Charis Reading...

My 4 year old is reading Dr. Suess books on her own now. Apparently, we're not so bad at this whole homeschooling thing! Yes, yes...I AM homeschooling her. It's something that I never thought I'd do. But I'm truly excited about it...and know that it's what we're being called to as a family. At least for this season. But that's a topic for a whole other blog post.

Now this summer our little town is doing a Library Reading Program, which offers prizes as you read certain amounts of book.

5 Books...ice cream cone from McDonalds and a Free kids meal from Cracker Barrel
10 Books...Family DVD rental from a local video place
15 Books...1 Day Swim Pass at a local pool
20 Books...Pizza Hut pan pizza

Pretty sweet, eh? SOOOO when Charis heard this, she started jumping up and down, laughing, and yelling. She immediately ran to get a book that I had just checked out from the library. She had never read it before, but did a really good job of sounding it all out.

The following video isn't of the best quality; it's from our digital camera's 60 second video feed. But it at least gives you an idea (especially for g'ma and g'pa up north) of how she's doing. Though I have to say, it mainly shows you the little dance/cheer that she does as she reads. Obviously, she's not lacking in self confidence.

I'm so proud of her!!

Until I can figure out how to put the video directly on here, I'm just going to include the video link.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=si0wrN9P9ZQ

The Rabbit Haven

As we were playing at our neighbor's house the other day, Laura showed the girls a little rabbit's nest, where three little bunnies were resting inside. Can I get a collective "Aw"?

But the thing that struck me was even standing right next to it, you could barely see it. And then when you WERE standing on top of it with your face inches away, it still just looked like a clump of dead grass, leftover from last week's mowing. She went on to tell me that two of our other neighbors also had rabbit's nests in the middle of their yards.

I remember as a little girl, my dad accidentally mowed over a nest. I was horrified when I heard it, wondering how he could be so blind as to run over baby rabbits. NOW, as I look down on the near-invisible nest, I can understand it. Why on earth do the rabbits build the nests like that? Right in the middle of a yard?! Haven't they taken note of the large number of snakes slithering about?!!

Do YOU see the bunny? Would you have mowed it over without given it a second thought? I'm thinking I may have. Crazy. But despite the rabbit's poor choice of nursery locations, they seem to be thriving. Because our neighborhood has rabbits ALL OVER the place! It isn't unusual to see three or four of them playing around in your backyard. And then a whole other set of them over in your neighbor's.

Thankfully, our garden is over at my parent's house. THOUGH if you want a tip on how to keep rabbits out of your garden...put dried blood (which also acts as a fertilizer) around the perimeter of the garden. It's supposed to keep critters out.

Evolution of the Bandaid

Ah, the bandaid. It really does have many uses.

In our house it's considered a trophy piece.
If your sibling gets hurt and truly needs a bandaid...it becomes your single-minded goal for the next twenty minutes to peruse your own body finding that spot that does, in deed, require the use of one. Because...well, if SHE gets one, than I want one too. It's only fair.

And there are actually many, many, many kinds of kids' bandaids to choose from. Who knew this before becoming a parent?! Shelves of them. All sporting different cartoon characters or super heroes. Blue's Clue, Elmo, Batman, Spider Man, Bacon Strips! (can you even believe that one!?)... As a child, you beg for one. You admire it. You show it off. Because to wear a Dora bandaid is to OWN Preschool Cool.

In our house, the soft rule is...if it's bleeding, then you can use one. Thus, suddenly, I have a house of girls who want to bleed. So once blood is shed, providing proof of necessity, we move on to Bandaid Use #2.

The child has just taken a bad fall. Tears, sobs, and screams are reaching decibel levels where glass shatters on the spot. But then *insert melodramatic music*, you pull out the bandaid box. Ta-Da!! The sun breaks through the clouds. Cries turned to subdued sniffles. Unintelligible screams are replaced by a timid "Can I pick one?" The universe becomes, once more, aligned. Parent exhales a deep sigh of relief.

Thus, the bandaid becomes quite the diversion tactic. The fact that your right arm was just severed is no longer important. Because you have a DORA bandaid. Ya-hoo. Mom, can I go back out and show my friends?!

So as a child, you find yourself awaiting the opportune time for The Bandaid. Which, to review, is all about getting that perfected look. And to a preschooler, that look says, "I'm brave. I bleed. I like Dora the Explorer." I mean really, what more is there to say?

But oh! how things change with time! Because once you become a teenager, having a cartoon bandaid is shockingly not considered cool. In fact, using a bandaid, period, is not cool. It shows weakness. Completely not an acceptable thing to do. It proves that you are not invincible. Completely not an acceptable thing to be.

Thus the reason for see-through bandaid strips.

Well, at least for girls. You see, a teenage GIRL can get away with the see-through bandaid. Because she wants to make sure that the blood does not get her trendy outfit stained. Because the perfected look now has nothing to do with bandaids. The look she wants to pass off is the one that says, I have style. I have Designer Jeans. Not I have a Disney-designed injury-hiding accessory. Go figure.

Now for boys, it's a whole other story. In the twisted irony of growing up, it's now the wound that becomes the trophy piece and the diversion tactic. Instead of showing off the bandaid, you sit around for hours telling stories of how the flesh wound came to be. You take wagers over the size of the impending scar. You relive it. You relish in it. You WANT to get blood on your clothes. It completes your "look". You get many jealous pats on the back from peers.

And suddenly, in the blink of an injured eye...the once sacred bandaid becomes an unnecessary part of life. ...Huh. Who knew it would end this way?

Note to self: Have plenty of see-through bandaids on hand in 8 years. Start interceding now for the day I become a parent to "the teenage boy".

The Glory...

A long time ago, Jet started the tradition of praying with the girls every night before they'd go to sleep. He'd spend quality Daddy-time singing a song to them, telling them a funny story(usually a 'messed up' version...like Rudolph the blue nose reindeer), and then asking them what they wanted to thank Jesus for. Where they'd sometimes spout off long lists of everything under the sun. (insert: I Thank God for daddies that are willing to put time into the bedtime routine...when mommies are sometimes ready to quick, throw them in the bed, shut the door, and run away) *grin*

Tonight the tradition played out a little differently.

Jet was putting Raegan in her crib and I was reading the girls a story as they sat on their beanbags beside me. We were just finishing up as Jet walked in. And since everyone was already sitting together, we decided to just stay out of bed and pray in a family circle.

Now I have to backtrack and say that Charis has been fighting an odd body/face rash again. Very frustrating. But this time, instead of beating my head against the wall with doctors who say they have no idea what it is, but "we'll just try this medication and this one and...", I have been praying with Charis about it throughout the day. We even wrote out a Bible verse, so she could read it to herself whenever she wanted to and proclaim it over her own body.

"For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, says the Lord." Jeremiah 30.17


So fast forward to tonight, sitting on the floor together. We were praying and thanking Jesus (tonight our dog was the beloved choice of thanksgiving from both girls). But this time, instead of just ending it there, I wanted to try something new. I wanted to do something that the Lord has been challenging me to do as well. To Just Listen to what HE has to say.

I explained to the girls that Jesus also wants to talk to us. To whisper things into our hearts for us to know. And that we needed to quiet ourselves so that we could hear him if he wanted to say something.

Honestly, I was surprised at how receptive they both were. We all bowed our heads. Selah whispered something quietly. Charis shushed her, saying "We're listening. You have to be quiet." :)

Immediately, I heard the Lord say, "This is a priceless time for you as a family." I knew the He was pleased, which completely warmed my heart in so many ways. So after a while of silence, I asked the girls if he said anything to them.

Without skipping a beat, Charis said, "Yes! Jesus said something to me! I heard him!"

"What did he say?"

"He said that he was going to heal all of my wounds. And make them all better. That he was going to heal my face and my leg and so he could decorate them."

"Decorate them?"

"Yeah. Decorate them." (She looked at me like Mom! Don't you get anything!?)
"That he was going to heal them. and them make them all shiny so I can show people."

In that instance, I knew that she had heard from the Lord. That's not the way we talk around here. We don't speak of Jesus decorating our faces...or showing our healings to other people. It's not like we don't think He could do those things or that we shouldn't share the miracles our family experiences with others. It's just that we've never really talked about it like that.

Immediately, I thought of Jesus adorning her face with oil and gold dust. "Making it SHINY." Like He has been known to do with us, our friends, and those that we are hearing about in other churches where the Lord has begun to display his glory in the physical realm.

David Goddard writes, "In the Tabernacle of Moses we see that the Ark of the Covenant was placed in the Most Holy Place as God's temporary dwelling. The Ark of the Covenant was a wooden chest made of Acacia wood, overlaid inside and outside with gold. The mercy seat or lid was made of pure gold with two cherubim, also made of pure gold, facing each other on the mercy seat. Wood in scripture represents humanity. The chest was made of wood, overlaid with gold, gold representing the nature of God. This was a picture of man (wood), clothed with the nature of God (gold). Our Lord was showing us that God's intention for man is to clothe him with glory, both within and without. (Ps 8:4-6)

I've seen and experienced God covering His Church in gold dust. And in oil. (which in scripture represents healing) Why, you ask? Because God is God. And therefore, he can do what he wants. :) But I believe it's a manifestation of His Glory. Because WE are his dwelling place now. Not the Ark of the Covenant. And He is starting to pour out His Glory is greater measures. I've heard of it happening around the world. And I've experienced it, on some level, here in my home and church.

And tonight...God spoke that into the heart of my little child. Who is waiting in expectation for her healing. So that God can "decorate" her...so that she can show others what Jesus has done for her.

...I called Mom to tell her about all of this. And she said that after I was done reading this blog entry, the Lord whispered really quietly into her spirit, "And so it begins."

Open our eyes Lord...to see what it is you are doing. I love watching You at work!!

Potty Talk

Disclaimer: The following content is rated P. For Parental. If you are not a parent of a small child, you may wish to skip this entry. As it may cause some of you weaker-stomached people to think twice about becoming a parent.

Let me just preface this by saying: Yes, both of my girls are potty trained. But no, I'm yet to trust them to wipe their own rear ends. Because I actually want them to be clean. And because I prefer everything to end up inside the toilet. Call me crazy. Call me controlling. Call me obsessive. I prefer to dub me 'hygenic'.

So anyway, we have this ritual. The girls go potty and then they'll call me in to wipe them. I usually walk in to the bathroom to a little bare bottom up in the air, as they bend over waiting patiently. It's actually kind of endearing. In a parental sort of way. *grin*

Today has proven no different: Selah runs by yelling, "I have to go potty!"

"Okay, just tell me when you need me."

Maybe three seconds pass. "Mommy!!!!!!! I go potty!!"

I walk in facing the normal butt shot. Proceed through the routine. And then from upside down, Selah yells up: "Mommy, say 'Look at that beautiful hinney!'"

I laughed, thinking either my child has an uncanny sense of in-born self-confidence or, unknown to me, this is a part of her daddy's potty routine with her. So I ask "Is that what daddy says?"

Not wavering in confidence and completely not seeing the humor in it, she sweetly says "Yep!" I wipe her cute little hindend, as I continue to laugh to myself at this little daddy-daughter interaction.

"Mooommmmeey!" she says, interrupting my run-away thoughts. "You didn't say 'that beautiful hinney!'"

Oh. How could I forget. :)

I love how much confidence these little girls are getting from their daddy. I mean, what woman loves the image of her rear?! I've read that even Shania Twain has said something to the extent of "no woman wants to see a picture of herself walking away."

I'm not one to disgree with that. But maybe, just maybe, there are a precious few of you out there that are thinking to yourselves: "Actually I don't mind my butt shot." And to you, I say, you are either:
1. 14 years old
2. have not had the honor of multiple pregnancies OR
3. had an amazing Daddy, who gushed all over you as a little girl. and therefore have the kind of unwaivering confidence that my girls easily claim.

I love my husband. He's so good for my little girls...and their rock solid body image. May they forever hold onto the assurance that they are beautiful. Every angle of them. *laughing*

A lazy? Sunday Afternoon

First thing out of Charis's mouth this morning "That was a great party last night!" Next thing: "Is today Elias's party?" Yes. We all are loving our partying lifestyle. :)

One of my daughters' friends turned 5 years old recently. So in honor of him, we all gathered to celebrate today. And get this...there were TWENTY FIVE children aged 6 and under !! It was beautiful chaos! Complete with a swimming pool, cake laced with frighteningly high levels of sugar, and water balloon launchers. Yes, the parents HAD temporarily taken leave of their senses allowing that sort of combination to take place. *Insert here wild children screaming with delight and parents yelling for their child to calm down 'just a bit'*

To let you know just how much fun my girls had: On the way home, Charis said "When I have my birthday, can I have it at Elias's grandma's house too?"
Notice the look on Rose's face. She blew out the candles before he knew what happened. ;) No caption here. Just the sounds of splashing and screaming and running and laughing.
I love this picture! These were the kids we were able to corral into sitting for a second. They all go to the same church...I wonder where they'll be and what they'll all be doing in 15 years. :D Whatever it is, I hope they're all still the best of friends!

The parents trying to pretend that they don't have children. "Kids? what kids?"
The Feeding Frenzy around the presents. It was so completely adorable to see all the kids excited for SOMEONE ELSE to open up presents. Too sweet!
Even these guys made it...with their week old baby girl. *love them*
The only thing that could make them sit for 5 consecutive minutes. Sugar.
What would this be without a picture of my sweetheart? A natural at the daddy thing.

This weekend was beyond fun! but I'm kind of ready for a slower paced Monday morning. Can you even believe it?!

Game Night

When we first moved to this house, I felt the Lord say that we were entering into a season of "Giving Parties". Uh, yeah...I'm serious. On the off-set, I was pretty all over it. We had just come off of this year-and-a-half of hardcore "Desert time" (LOTS of being stretched and emptied and challenged and prodded). And I was thinking the whole party theme sounded pretty sweet. I mean...God could've had said we were getting ready to enter a season of ...any number of things. So I considered myself pret-ty stinking lucky to have drawn the party 'chip'. Yay me!

But here's the thing. I have this problem. It''s called perfectionism. So the whole host-a-bazillion-parties ideal started making me nervous. "You mean, have people over here? to my not-so-perfect house?! and then proceed to entertain them with my not so perfect ideas? and feed them with my not so perfect food? and laugh at their not so perfect jokes? (hee hee) Uh sorry, God. You got the wrong girl. Not sure I'm equipped to go through with it."

YES, I am so serious. Admittedly, I have this anal retentive streak that struggles to keep me in the grand stands watching... instead of living life.

But *drum roll* I have obediently "suffered" through. :) And to be honest, I'm not even sure I can count up how many parties we've had in the last 2 years! It's been a B-L-A-S-T!!! And I'm so proud to report that anal retentive streak has suffered a mighty blow. Can I get a Hey-Ho!! Hey Ho!! *doing a little chair dance*

This evening was one of our "random parties". Which, by the way, is what we do. We invite a bunch of random people over...people that we think would gel well, but don't normally get to hang out together. (I LOVE connecting people like that) Add a little food to the mixture and voile! You can rest assured that the people will talk and joke and play games until the wee hours of the morning. Some people we can't push out of front door if we tried. hee hee I love it!

This go round, we decided to go ahead and do the whole dinner thing together...that way, we'd at least be done before midnight. :) We barely made it!!

And for the record, Bill...the men may have won this time. But--and there IS a big ol' butt--next time is another story. Jeanie, Ellen, Nell-Marie, Linda, Hannah, and I WILL prevail. I can just feel it.
Our newly finished deck. Complete with deck furniture borrowed from my parents. :)
Bill...Not sure what he's charading, but it was hilarious. You'll never get to know someone quite so well as you do when watching them try to get you to say "mermaid" ...with gestures only! For the record Jet, YOUR rendition of a mermaid looked like a sick duck. Sorry, babe.
A couple of the ladies. You know, pretending to like each other for posterity sake.

As Iron sharpens Iron

"The better part of one's life consists of his friendships." Abraham Lincoln.

My life's path has crossed with many people who have challenged me, encouraged me, listened to me, loved me, changed me. Forever.

I think of Candi...my ywam mentor who was willing to dig deep into my heart. I have no idea where ywam's roads have taken her, as my attempts to track her down have fallen flat. But I know that because of her persistence to get me to verbally open up in certain arenas, my heart still remains free in those places.

I remember the mass of high school youth group leaders who DEVOTED their lives to the betterment of mine. Who went to my track meets, listened to broken hearts over relationships gone wrong, endured bouts of immaturity because they could see gold was coming. Who not only lent me their ear for a season, but their friendship for a LIFEtime. Julie, Lisa, Curtis, Randy, Roger, Dawn, Gail, Brenden, Shaundra, Janice...

I think of all the MANY friends from college and ywam who inspired me to go after God. All in very different ways...all with differing flavors that matched their personalities and reflected a part of God's...all with a heart of true interest in my life. Heather, Janna, Emily, Wendy, Stephanie, Serena, Corey, Doug, Trevor, Brian, Crystal, Miriam, Valerie, Sandy...

And the Ladies Bible Study that was the answer to my prayer for deep friendship after I left ywam. Those weekly meetings for three years fine-tuned me. In the safety of a friend's home, we discussed every topic known to man. Laughed for hours. Cried for some. Prayed each other through many, many, many things. That time, and those friendships, will forever be priceless to me. Priceless. Cheryl, Jolanthe, Becca, Carla, Suzie, Crystal, Lourdez, Darne...

I have been truly blessed to know ALL of these guys (and all the ones that I didn't include) and to have connected with them in a gut-level way. I KNOW I am the person I am today because of these faithful few. I know it. And I realize that though those people's paths have, for the most part, been separated from my own...I can STILL say those friendships will forever remain precious to me. Key to my becoming me.

But God has remained faithful to make sure that I continue to be surrounded by people who's very lives call out to something deep within my spirit. Something that I lack the words to define. Yesterday was one of those days. One where a simple conversation with a friend turned into something that inspired the very core of who I am. who I desire to be. who I am destined to become.

I almost canceled our little get-together because, for some strange reason, my equilibrium had gone out of whack the night before and I wasn't sure I should go out. But even as I called her to reschedule, something in me cried out. I knew I wanted to go. I knew I needed to. and I started to physically feel better! So I threw some clothes and deodorant on, gathered up all my children, and met my dad in town (to give him the two oldest girls) and drove to her home where I spent the next FOUR hours (i had no idea I was there that long...whoops!) discussing the depths of Jesus.

She took the time to ask me questions that I hadn't taken the time to ask myself. To share her experience on the realm of the supernatural with me. To encourage me to look at things from a different standpoint. To challenge me to see what the Bible says instead of going by what I've always heard...

I suppose the "what" of what we talked about isn't important. Because even as I sit here, I can't remember it all. What I remember is the feeling of being understood. of being ALIVE. of having something in me called out...called forth.

I know I'm being vague. It's not my intent. But words can't always describe the working of the Holy Spirit on your life, you know? So all I can say is yesterday something happened in me. Something was awakened. An expectancy stirred. And I'm so ready to see what comes from it all. I'm so ready to grab ahold of Heaven's Gates...

Best Friend...

Last night we had some friends and their three children over for dinner. Charis was thrilled! She and Selah waited for their friend, Ali, all day long. Making her cards (which they forgot to give her) and watching on their "perch" by a front window for a car to pull up.

When it was time for the family to go home, none of the children (though tired) wanted to stop playing together. There were even some tears.

Well, Charis informed me this morning that the next baby we have "you can name her Ali." Apparently, she loves her friend that much. :)

I love watching friendships form between children. They love each other just because they can, you know? Not because someone is the prettiest or the best at something or for any ulterior motive whatsoever.

For instance...
I was asking Charis about Sunday School a couple of days ago. Her only comment?
"Quinn wasn't there."

"Oh? You must really like Quinn, huh?"

"He's my best friend" (now it must be said that she ONLY knows him through her contact in Sunday school. We've never hung out with the family outside of church).

"So what makes him your best friend?"

She immediately says...in the tone of a 'duh statement'.
"Because I know his name."

*grin* Don't you just love the simplicity of a friendship with a child?

Little Miss Manners

It's officially happened. I have crossed over into Parent-Of-One-Who-Speaks-Her-Mind. God, help me.

So I, being the perfect mom (yeah, yeah...hush it!) am fairly rigorous in trying to teach my girls good table manners:
-Chew with your mouth closed
-Don't talk with your mouth full.
-Use your utensils and refrain from putting your face in your bowl like Tobe (our dog) does.

You know, the real essential ones.

Well, point for me! Because apparently Etiquette Lessons have stuck. To the extent that Charis has given herself a promotion from mentor-ee to mentor-er. She will now correct any and all whose eating ventures come to her attention. My parents. Myself. Perfect strangers.

It's the latter focus of her tutoring skills that I lament.

Picture it. Costco. Open room filled with tables of eating people who are either
1. in a hurry and not in the mood for fast food.
2. in a hurry and looking for a good price. or
3. In a hurry. Period.

As it would seem, the whole "in a hurry" thing doesn't bode well for focusing on correct chewing methods. Well, recently Charis used one hurried Costco member as the point of reference on "how not to eat".

We're sitting there. Patiently waiting for Daddy to come back with the food. And, of course, with nothing else to hold her attention, my 4 year old starts to utilize American's favorite pasttime. People Watching. And I, tending to our infant, am otherwise occupied. Until I hear a LOUD "Mommy! HE'S not chewing with his mouth closed!!"

I turn around looking for the little imp of a child that obviously needs a lesson on good manners. To my horror, the imp is sitting directly beside me. Right arm stretched out straight ahead. Pointing very obviously at the older man sitting at the table directly in front of us. Whose eating skills, in the defense of Charis, much resemble that of a drunken goat. Simply put, it was revolting.

But that's not my point. :) I'm horrified. I can hardly just say "You're so right, honey. He's completely inept of all table manners. He should be shot." NOoooo...the Parental Handbook specifically instructs that you must
1. Cower in shame
2. Throw offending child under something. Like the Costco table.
3. Apologize profusely that the target of Preschool Correction has been called on their obvious lack of social skills. Because it's not their fault that their eating resembles that which we've seen at the zoo. NO! It's the fault of the observant child, who has taken it upon themselves to advertise loudly to the free world.

I jerk her hand down quickly. Immediately her other hand...complete with pointed finger aimed and loaded...shoots up. "But Mommy!!! He's NOT chewing with his mouth closed." This time it's LOUDER, as if I'm not understanding the fact that she has identified something that I need to correct. *Breathe Christin. Just Breathe*

Though, I do have momentary reason to rejoice! I thank God silently that the man and his elderly wife are obviously deaf in both ears. Yeah, I know. So much for my compassionate heart. But it's every man for himself at this point. And I'm just glad they're paying her no mind.

But while I'm correcting Charis and giving her the quickie-version of a "it's not polite to point at someone" lesson, my 2 year old---not to be outdone by her sister---turns around and sticks her finger inches from in the face of the offending stranger...

I start sweating. WHERE is that man I call Husband? WHO are these children? WHY have I taught them manners and then released them onto the unsuspecting public!? Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! (note: I am not taking the Lord's name in vain here...I am praying. desparately. for the floor to open up and swallow me.)

This time the couple notices the crazed look of a wild-eyed 2 year old. Pudgy finger in their face. Her shrill voice making her sister's sound like a whisper in comparison. No joke. I give Charis a "warning look" that lets her know we are NOT finished with this conversation and she had better NOT revert her eyes back to that man. I try and calmly grab my 2 year old. I try to tell her that she needs to be quiet. But she only gets more and more insistent.

I am sure at this point I wet my pants. Costco is full. My children have obviously lost their minds. My husband is obviously caught between enemy fire and is unable to return to rescue me. Or at least he had better be. And I am fast losing all desire to eat.

And Then.

The wife of the man looks up at me. Calmly saying to her husband, "I think she's talking about you." I close my eyes, just waiting for some comment to follow. But none comes. So I can only assume that she wasn't able to interpret that which was spoken at decibel levels only heard by dogs. and mothers.

I inhale air for the first time in 4 minutes. I exhale another 4 minutes later when the couple leaves. And I christen myself "Arrived". Now I hold rank with all those poor mothers who speak about their children and their lack of tact when dealing with strangers. In public restrooms. In grocery store check-outs. In store dressing rooms. Oh, the horror of a toddler with the ability to loudly voice thoughts not okayed by the parent.

SO for those of you that KNOW us, be forewarned: When dining with my oldest daughters, please take note of your table manners. Because God knows that my children will.

Africa-a heart after God

Some of my mission-minded, albeit adventure-seeking friends leave for Africa in a few days. They'll be gone for 2 weeks...ministering to, serving, and praying for the African people. In some ways, I envy them that. The ability to just pick up and take off. To take Jesus and his practical ministry of healing to the world. Something not so easily done when married...with children.

Don't get me wrong. It is completely POSSIBLE. I spent a year with YWAM (youth with a mission) watching families go around the world together. the children being VERY involved in the ministry part of things. So I know it's possible. It's just not very EASY to leave the country. Anyway...I digress.

AFRICA.

The word alone stirs up a passion in my husband. And a curiousity for me. He has gone twice. For weeks...or months at a time. I only have a vision. A literal one. One that I saw YEARS before I ever met Jet. And I was so random that it stuck with me. I don't remember where I was when I had the vision...only the vivid image remains: I was sitting in the sands/dirts of Africa. Playing with a small, very dark, African child. And I was much much older. I'm thinking late 50's, 60's?

When I met Jet, he was thinking very seriously about moving full-time to Africa. Obviously meeting ME put a wrench in those plans. :) But the fact that his heart was for Africa and I had this random, not-attached-to-anything vision about Africa...well, I took notice.

And so...here we are, another trip to Africa without our little clan. One day I'm pretty sure that we'll head out there as a family. But for now, my heart (and most definitely the heart of my husband) goes with the team...as they set out to hold up the hands of those ministering in the bush-bush.

Looking at the pictures of Jet's trip...I can see why he loves the African church. They are hungry for the things of God.

They will walk for HOURS...sometimes barefoot...to hear God's Word preached. They will sit for another 2 HOURS in the HOT sun to learn of God's ways. Without complaining! Their worship is LOUD and joyous and WILD. :) Their churches are not all made-up with lots of color or padded seats. Because they come, not to be entertained. But to be forever changed.
They happily jump in to the mirky, dirty, ICY (an understatement) waters to be baptized because to remain outside of the water is like remaining outside of God's plan for them.

Their hearts are rich. Though their lives are poor. I love that. They obviously have something that we, as the American church, sometimes lack. Perspective. Heavenly treasures. Joy in the sufferings.

Maybe some of the African church should come here to minister that spirit to us. More, Lord!

Good Times

We've been to so many get-togethers the past 24 hours, that I don't have the brain-power to even blog it. So here are some of my favorite pictures from the different parties.

Here is one of the little ones... 10pm. Stocked full of chips and rice crispy treats. Exhausted, yet willing themselves to go on.




Emily...quite the thirsty little lady! Apparently the dixie cup size isn't adequate. Nursing an infant...it will do it to you every time! ;)
Is he not adorable!?? (insert: there is only ONE correct answer!)

"Aunt" Dawn had to work very very hard in order for this to happen!!


Baby Row. There were children every where at Amy's Going Away party. 16 total. All aged 5yrs and under. And one expecting in the background. :)

Crazy fun times!

Mini Me.

Charis has taken to chewing her hair. A nasty little habit. One that I actually remember doing myself. Ew. So I tell her "If you don't stop doing that, I'm going to cut your hair off."

She slowly takes it out. Looks at me kind of funny. And says, "Alllllll of it?" Because...well, you know, she must weigh her options.

Now, obviously I did not mean I would shave the girl bald. But I have to admit, for a freak second, I pause and think "What is the best way for me to answer this? Do I let her think that I will, in fact, bic her? Would the fear of becoming a Brittany Spears look-alike be the ticket in nixing this dirty habit?"

Honestly, I don't remember WHAT I said. No, really. It's true. So I can't tell you if I allowed this little miscommunication to remain. (I'm thinking I didn't). But I do know that it came up again today...when I found her, hair-in-mouth. She looked at me and without my even saying a word, she took it out of her mouth and said, "Are you going to cut it off? Like Granddaddy's?"

"Nooooo. I won't cut it all off. But I will cut it very short. And I'd reallllllly like to let your hair grow long and pretty." Without missing a beat, she says innocently, "But Mommy, I want my hair like yours. Because yours is very, very Beautiful."

Awww...what a wonderful diversion tactic. How sweet. How completely intelligent. ;) And in that instant, the whole hair-chewing thing was forgotten. ...Until next time.

But it's got me thinking. I had better watch what I say. I had better NOT lead her to think XYZ will happen, when I will not, in fact, enforce XYZ. Because one day, they will call me on it. And then *poof* there goes my credibility. And trust me, that is not something I want to lose.

I truly AM VERY careful to NOT make empty threats. Most definitely!! But man oh man, if I'm not tempted at times to take the easy road of empty threats. But then, I'm always drawn back to a little memory of mine: I remember the first time I called my parents on a bluff where I knew they wouldn't dare follow through.

It was my birthday. Maybe my 5th? Maybe not.

Allow me to set the stage: Eating dinner at Nana's house. The birthday cake positioned strategically on top of the fridge. Suddenly, I came to a point in dinner where I had force-fed myself all the green vegetables I could stomach. Unfortunately, those 2 bites weren't enough to appease the big people. And I had already tried moving them around on my plate to make them disappear. Didn't work. Big People piled them back up. You know, to show me just how much I had to eat. I said I couldn't do it. They said, "Well then, if you don't eat them, you won't get any cake."

Now...I REMEMBER thinking this over in my mind. I REMEMBER looking up at the cake and thinking "They are sooo not telling the truth. It's MY birthday. They wouldn't dare to not let ME have any birthday cake. What SING to me and then excuse me while they dine on my cake?! I think not."

Yep, I am praying that my children take after their passive and agreeable father. Thanks for asking.

And Yes. I did get to eat cake. Without finishing those green things. *Score* for the kindergartener! I say this, not to diss my parents...but to highlight that I may have passed down the ol' bluff-calling honing device. And since Charis was successful at diverting attention off of her hair onto mine, I'm thinking I may have ALSO passed down the "I can talk myself out of anything" gene.

...I saw a friend today that I hadn't seen in a long time. Her reaction when watching Charis? "She's such a little Christin." Yessirreebob. I foresee fun times ahead. *laughing*

Lessons from a garden

The girls and I are spending some time at my parent's house this summer... to garden. We're using their large garden plot and, in the process, having "special Grandma time."

Not too long back, we went to get a few plants: tomato, eggplant, squash, and peppers. None of which the girls will eat. Or so they declare. :) But still, the idea of growing their own food, be it the "gross" kind, excites them. I don't know if it's because they get to play in the dirt. Or because they get to see ME play in the dirt. Or because it's just doing something new.

But regardless, it's fun for me to see them experience it all with such innocent wonder. Which happens to be, as I'm finding, one of the many perks of parenthood: Renewed outlook.

Fresh. Untainted. Nonjudgemental. Full of expectation.

No wonder the bible says we all need to become like little children again. I mean, Charis will literally stop at a flower and exclaim "Beautiful!" Never before have I understood the phrase "stop and smell the roses" like I do now. Man, I'd love to have that kind of zeal for the every day things!

We just put the plants in the ground about a month ago. Yet, the very next week, as we discussed going to our garden, Charis thought we were going to be picking the fruit right then. :) Just a few days after sowing the seeds. But isn't that how I am too sometimes? I do some thing...pray some prayer...obey some spiritual law...and expect immediate results.

Yeah, there are times that prayer is answered almost before I get out an "amen". Like a 911 call. "The answer is on the way...be there in 5 minutes." I've seen those immediate answers unfold before my eyes.

But then, there are times that I. must. wait.

Circumstances have to fall into place, perservence has to be strengthened, the stage has to be set....before the Lord's answer comes. Just like my garden. For, I KNOW the fruit will come. As long as I take care and water and weed and watch....

Lord, help me to first, realize the true nature and power of prayer. And then to simply pray. And pray. And pray some more. Without trying to analyze whether this one will be answered as a "garden prayer" or as a "911 prayer".

All I need to know is my part is to pray. That my part is to set things in motion in a realm that is usually unseen. And then to wait for the answer to make itself known. like the first sign of growth pushing up past the dirt. (and on an aside: if you think about it...farmers use manure to help things grow. I'll let you come up with that analogy all by yourself. :) Because that's a whole other story!)

In the blink of an eye

Here is my Nana with ME at 3 months of age. Below is a picture of Nana with Raegan at 3 months old. :) I'd heard growing up, that the older you get, the faster time flies. I remember balking at that idea as a teenager, feeling as if the 6-weeks grading period of school was an eternity.

But now, at age 30, I'm finding that concept to be incredibly true. And I wonder...does it only get faster from here? Will I wake up one day and my newborn will be having her own newborns?! Even as I write that, part of me is like "No way! I have all the time in the world! They'll be young forever!" But wasn't it just yesterday that I was a freshman in high school?! I mean, I don't feel like what I thought 30 would feel like. I still feel like the same person I was back then, only better. In fact, I sometimes have a hard time referring to myself as a "woman" and not as a "girl".

Is that what people who are 60, 70, 80 are feeling as well? That they are somehow trapped by their bodies... by their mirrored reflection... by the concept of age? And only because each passing day turned into another passing year turned into another passing decade? I think I am catching a glimpse of this untamed reality.

As best I can I want to enjoy each day. Squeeeze the joy from it. LIVE it and not just be run over by it. Because before I know it, my daughters WILL be having their own children.

I know this because I see "that look" on the faces on my parents as they watch me with my girls. The look that says "I can't believe you have children. I can't believe how much your children remind me of you as a baby. It feels like just yesterday that I was in your shoes, with little ones running around. And here I am...a grandparent. It's mysterious and wonderful all at the same time."

Yeah, that look.

Apparently, what they say is true. In a blink of an eye it's all gone. or at least forever altered. ...I'm determined not to blink today.

Soccer Trophy

Kids Soccer.

Charis wanted to sign up for it this summer. Jet and I had a hard time getting her there at first (as I blogged on my myspace account) because she didn't want to go. Then she had a sudden change of heart and loved it. Then came the big skin rash of '07 that kept her from going for 2 weeks. And then... there was last night. The final one. The big picnic. And the Trophy presentation!!

Jet and I had refrained from telling her about the trophy the entire soccer season so we could capitalize on the Kodac moment...the REAL surprised look of acceptance.

I envisioned it being like a graduation moment. They call her name. The coach hands her the trophy with one hand and reaches out to shake her hand with his other one. Everyone claps. She smiles. I take a dozen pictures. Somewhere in the distance soft music would be playing. Ahh, what a moment.

My mom even called me today to make sure that I get video. "In case Charis ever gets really big into sports, it would be fun to have her receiving her first sports trophy." Yeah sure. I'll try.

The picnic is supposed to start at 6pm. At 5:30, I'm getting everything ready. Trying to juggle it all until Jet gets home. Everything's going well. coming together. falling into place. The girls are all quietly playing. But then, screams break the silence. Loud ones.

I'll leave out the details of the next 10 minutes. But I'll just say biting was involved. And it definitely wasn't my "Best Mom" moment. (and no, I wasn't the one doing the biting). Everyone's crying. I'm at my wit's end. And then Jet walks in. "Welcome home, honey!" I'm ready to forego the whole soccer moment. Thunder sounds in the distance.

By the calming presence of my dear husband, we make it to the soccer field on time.

Fast forwarding... It's 7pm. We've just finished up the child vs. parent soccer match and have been eating for a little while. Sky turns dark. Very dark. Thunder rolls, loudly. And tiny drops of rain tease us. Every parent looks to the sky. We all know that when it breaks, it's going to be bad. (the night before we had hail accompany the thunder storm). Charis starts to complain about her stomach, clutching her little tummy.

We start to pack up, in anticipation of the coming storm. Yet wanting to remain long enough to get the Kodac moment. Coach Joe walks over, handing Jet a box with a picture of a trophy on it. Your kidding me?! THIS is the big moment? The finale?! Jet gives it back to him, sort of nodding over at Charis. And Joe, being a parent of 5, completely understands and kneels down, handing it to Charis and congratulating her. She turns away... complaining about her stomach, refusing to even take the box. Another parent makes a quip about the safety of handing out metal trophies in a lightning storm. But I can't even laugh, my mind is frantically trying to figure out how to even get a picture out of this.

But before I can gather my thoughts, the sky opens up! All the little soccer players scatter. And we make a break for the car.

The 2007 soccer season is officially over in our home. And there was no great trophy moment. No happy surprised look. No Kodac picture. Bum-mer. But we did get some hurried pictures at our home of our little pro-athlete before she went to bed. :)

Our very own Alcatraz

My neighbor and I emailed back and forth yesterday. Because, well, that's what neighbors do, right? Who has time these days for an actual face-to-face talk? I mean, that would require me actually walking across my yard to hers. And WHY would I do that when I can e-mail in the quiet seclusion of my home?

Ahhh...the life of a recluse.

Actually our new-found hermitism hasn't been one of choice. For the past couple of weeks, Charis has had some sort of horrible rash that the doctors (yes, that would be plural) haven't been able to figure out. So, being extra careful, I've tried to keep her out of the sun. (Our strawberry picking time was her first official venture out.) Sooo...my girls have been living like bats. Coming outside around dusk, when most normal people are eating dinner.

On a couple of occasions, I've seen them with their faces plastered to the door, waving frantically at Laura and her children. "Mom! Miss Laura sees me! She's waving!! See? Hi!! Hi!!"

Pitiful. One rash has caused me to become a prison wardon.

In fact the other day, I walked into the front living room. Both Selah and Charis were propped up on a chair, looking out the window. "Look at that, Selah! I think...I think it looks like a bird. Yeah, that's a bird."

Doesn't that just break your heart? The little inmates hoping for a chance-spotting of wildlife. At that point, we all got in the car and left. I don't remember WHERE we went. But we went.

The love of my life.

Six years ago this month, I walked down the aisle towards the man that I knew God had hand-picked for me. Today...I am even more assured of it. And here, just for the fun of it, are some of the reasons why I love him like I do.

1. He knows at least a little bit about everything. For instance: The reason why those little birds always seem to be dive-bombing the big ones. The details of World History. The names of the different types of farm machines, and their uses. The names of every type of tree...and their uses. Politics. How to build a house from ground up. How to kill and prepare a turkey dinner. What bear meat tastes like. You know, the things that really matter. Comes in handy when the girls ask all sorts of random questions as we drive down the road.

2. He can parallel park the largest moving van there is, WITH a trailer hooked on the back. All without looking behind him. Only using the side mirrors. No joke! Until marrying him, I thought using those mirror thingys were optional, that everybody just looked over their shoulder.

3. He can relate to ALL types of people. Having spent the better half of his life in tight wranglers and belt buckles, he can relate to them there type people. Having married into a family of gym rats, he can relate to those egotistical-type people. Having worked in different career fields...at times owning his own business...he does well with the grouchy-type people, otherwise known as "the consumer." He's just genuinely a NICE guy who most people like dealing with.

4. He's not afraid to try something. Hence the 4 years he spent riding bulls. And the marrying into my family. ;)

5. I truly believe him when he says he LIKES the fact that I am 15 lbs heavier than I was before this last baby. Yet, he cheers me on as I exercise it off. And he doesn't give me "the look" when I eat a cookie.

6. He can laugh at himself. And me. (note: he does NOT do #5 and #6- part b simulanteously)

7. He can fix everything known to man. Cars. Appliances. Houses and everything about them. Dirty diapers. A lamb getting ready to deliver a breech baby. The hole in his little girl's dress. Snakes that need to be killed. A five course meal. ...seriously, he can do all that. In fact, I'm yet to find something that he can't do.

8. He has a way about him that makes his little girls feel special. I can't put it into words, except to say that my girls are always asking me to go away, so that they can have "Daddy time."

9. He spent time putting together a music CD for me. With all sorts of country songs. As a surprise. The sappy love ones, not the ones bemoaning their dead dogs and broken gee-tars.

10. He listens when I tell him that something bothers me. And does everything in his power to change it.

11. He can come home stressed and tired from a horrendous day at work and see that I'm burnt out. Without a word, he'll gather up ALL three girls and take them out. To the grocery store, if we need something. To the pizza store, if I haven't had time to fix anything. To our backyard, if nothing else. just to give me some alone time.

12. We'll have spent the entire day working outside. And he'll give ME the back massage, even though HE was the one that scraped the roof for hours.

13. He NEVER complains about things that I can't change. Actually he doesn't complain about things that I can change.

14. My parents truly love him and recognize that he is the BEST man for me. (I think they know he's the best man they've ever met, but have come just short of saying it).

15. Even when I've had an especially crazy day with the girls...and I've forgotten to brush my teeth, get out of my pajamas, and put deoderant on...he STILL calls me beautiful.

16. He turns his eyes away if a half-dressed woman comes on the TV screen...or is on the cover of a magazine...OR walks in front of us on the street. He truly has eyes for only me. Because he's trained them that way.
17. Because even though we've been married for almost 6 years, I can say, without hesitation or doubt, that I love him MORE today than I did when I said "I do."

18. I love him because I KNOW this list could go on and on. Because he gives me endless reasons for loving him. On a daily basis.

19. I love him because for some strange reason only known to God, I have captured his heart. And he is devoted to ME.

I only hope that one day my daughters will be as blessed as I am; that they'll find a man like their daddy to call husband and best friend.

Homemade Icecream

Last night we went to a friend's house
...for grilling, homemade icecream, and a BUNCH of laughs (anyone met Zeke's FAT cat "Bitty"?).

After amassing 17 pounds of strawberries this weekend, we decided to hi-jack the icecream maker from my parents' cellar. Where obviously it's used quite frequently. I mean, don't most people go to the depths of their cellar to make food?

Jet (otherwise known as the male version of Martha Stewart. minus felony charges) had made up the "mix-stuff" ahead of time. So when we got to Zeke's, all that was left to do was pour everything together. My girls were all about helping. Rose's body language says it all. She opted out.

The icecream was a-ma-zing!!! My thoughts...we'll be having a Grilling Out party soon to show off our stolen, uh... borrowed icecream maker! And maybe we can give the kids the cheapo Food Lion kind. Since there will probably be a dozen of them here and they don't care what type of icecream it is. As long as they get some. Adults on the otherhand. Well, we like the good stuff.
Being that these three girls have never gotten together "officially" to play, they hit it off!! Selah will be 3yrs. in a couple of weeks. Rose just turned 3 yrs. and Charis is 4years. Who knows? Maybe years down the road, we'll have another picture of the three of them together. :)

I love those types of pictures. The progressive, we've-been-friends- forever kind of photos.
And I love this one!! No, you are not in need of glasses. And yes, I DO realize it's blurry.

It's an action shot.

They were hugging. Violently, quite obviously. Where they all ended up in the grass from the force of it all. But because I didn't have my flash on, movement is what you see more than detail.

Yet, somehow I still love it.

Cousin time!

We had my 10 year-old niece spend the weekend with us. My daughters were in heaven.
Not only did they get to have Sydney's undivided attention and constant make-believe games, but they all got to sleep in the same room!!! Joy of joys! ;) Note: they went to bed around 8:30 one night (late for my girls, early for Syd), but talked and laughed for at least an hour.

As soon as they walked in our house, all three girls started to play school. Teacher Sydney had them doing 4th grade level stuff in no time. Poor Selah! ;)

We went to the strawberry picking farm today. First thing out of Charis's mouth...before we even stepped foot onto the fields...was "This is a great trip! Can we do this again!?"
I love that about Charis. She's always so enthusiastic!

Take note of the hat I'm wearing. A couple of hours later, when I was feeding Raegan (and still wearing the hat), she was happily eating. She looked up at me...studying, studying...? All of the sudden, her lower lip juts out and she lets out this pitiful wail. She didn't recognize me! I jerked the hat off and tried to get her to look at me, wanting to convince her that I wasn't some random woman. But she refused to even look at me for the longest time. Always diverting her eyes just a few inches past where I would move my face. Wouldn't nurse for a long while either. About the sweetest reason for sobbing I ever did see! Oh, how I love my little girl, who obviously knows her Mommy!!! Minus the hat, that is.



Somehow we ended up with 17 lbs of strawberries!! What in the world?! Here I was thinking that we needed to step it up in filling our three baskets. I thought, for sure, we weren't gathering a lot.

Hmmmm... Maybe THIS is the reason why I can't seem to lose the last of my baby weight. Because I'm eating 15 lbs of food thinking it's only a "small portion". ;) Lovely.




With Selah picking strawberries, I had to keep reminding her to pick only the big and red ones. She'd ask me "Is this a good one?" About 10 minutes into this constant question, I told her that she could taste it if she wanted to. Apparently, she liked that means of assessment. From there on out, she tried almost every one that she picked. Taking one bite out it, declaring it good or not, and then proceding to put the half-eaten "good" ones into the basket.

After she took this bite, she looked up at me and said, "Yep, this one's good." I had to tell her to eat the WHOLE thing. :) She didn't put up too much of a fight.

Now, hours later, we're left with a 1/2 ton of strawberries. Completely ruined pie crusts because the girls and some stray bubbles (?) sort of "killed" the piecrusts we were making, and one hungry daddy who has gone to the grocery store to get ready-made crusts instead. Because he's craving strawberry pie that much! What a fun day :)

Man's best friend

Heavy rains and high winds went through last week. Unknown to us, it took the lid off of our dog's food bin that sits outside, ruining all of his food.

Jet ended up having to go to the grocery store late the next night to buy a bag of dogfood. All he said was, "I'm going to get Toby's food."

Doberman are documented as one of the smartest, most trainable dogs. Our dog's intelligence is no exception: Obviously he knew what Jet said. Because he waited there...by the front door... from the moment Jet left until he returned. And as soon as Jet walked in the door, Toby ran for his food bowl. :)

He's very much a part of our family. Got a bark and a form that'll scare the pants off of intruders. Yet he's extremely gentle to our girls and all of our neighbors. Oh how, we love our "first born". And I have to say if any one is looking for a family dog that's easy to train, a doberman is perfect.

The Adult version of Middle School Feelings

Do you ever have those days where suddenly every insecurity you struggle with ALL comes crashing in around you? It's like one thing...usually a very small thing made bigger by your perception...unlocks the storehouse to every "I'm not good enough" feeling you've had since 7th grade.

I don't know why (well, actually I DO know why but that remains an unnecessary part of this blog) but not too long ago was one of those days. And for some reason, the fact that I'm a parent only makes it worse. Because then it's not just MY insecurities and shortcomings (whether just perceived or real) that I see blaring before me, but those "possible" future ones of my children. Set in stone through the faulty DNA that I contributed. The "I know I've screwed them up past the point of their having normal social interaction" feeling. Yes, I know. Irrational. But it all snow-balled.

I have no idea why, but when I was younger, I naively thought that adults had it all under control. They had NO insecurities. They never felt left out. All their friendships ran smoothly. They never had "fat days". In fact, I'm pretty sure I remember thinking that once I got out of the trenches of middle and high school, I would no longer have to deal with all the unsure feelings that seemed par for that course. How come no one told me that, in fact, adults DO deal with them? And on a somewhat deeper, more intense level --because you think you're not supposed to be dealing with them? Because you think "Okay, I AM an adult. This shouldn't be bothering me." And because, quite frankly, this go round seems harder. Not so trivial. ...this time it's not about little Timmy choosing the new 6th grade girl over you. Or you not getting picked for the best team during P.E.

Of course, tell that to a 6th grader in the middle of a heartbreak. It doesn't matter that from where I sit, their issue should be a NON issue. The fact remains, I suppose, that heartbreak is still heartbreak. Do you think in heaven, we'll look back and say..."man, our adult woes WERE trivial"? I'm banking on it. But right now...to me, hurt feelings...well, they still hurt.

So here I am on the other side of "hurt," left with a choice. Do I fall into the trap of self-pity? Do I arm myself with resentment and bitterness? Do I retreat to my protective walled-over heart...where no one can ever hurt me again?

The obvious, good-girl answer is "No! of course not. I'll just love them all anyway just because I'm THAT good." Can't you see my red super hero cape flapping in the wind? But reality is that it's all too easy, when nursing a wounded soul, TO resort to any or all of those self-preserving tactics. Trust me, I know. I've ventured down those paths before.

I want to choose the higher ground now. I want to make it a point to reach out to people and love them in a way where I felt I was jilted. To do the exact opposite of what I received.
I heard someone preach one time that the enemy (Satan) can't guess what you're going to do next, if you operate out of love. Because he has no concept of that. He can't second-guess your next move. Not that I want to be motivated for the sole purpose of confusing him. But it is kind of nice to think that I'll be dealing a death blow to Hell...AS I'm loving people instead of licking my own wounds.

When we moved to Texas a while back...a HUGE story in and of itself...we went church-hopping. I thing I hope to never have to do again. But an experience that proved priceless, as it gave both Jet and I a point of view that we had never had before: It came as a shock to me, but the church people just wouldn't talk with us. Oh, we'd hear the occasional "Is that seat taken?" Or "oh, isn't she cute?" (referring to our daughter). But never would any one really take the time to TALK with us. And I think Jet and I are fairly approachable. We're both usually smiling. We both are NOT shy people. We both would TRY and make conversation with people, in attempts to connect with someone on a real level. To get to know the church family...in order to decide if we wanted to become a part of it. L-O-N-G story short, I decided that I would never let a "new person" visting our church feel that way.

In other words, I decided to not let my hurt cripple me.

I tell you this story, not to pat myself on the back. But to show you that I know I can use hurtful things for good. And to remind myself...even as I write....that I need to, yet again, choose to do that. To recognize that sometimes people can be clueless; they can say things or do things that hurt you to the core. And all without being the tiniest bit aware.

I KNOW that's what it was...the thing that hurt me a while back. Even though this isn't the first time it's happened. It was cluelessness of their part. Now, I just have to choose how I act. As the Lord has said to me on numerous occasions in the past: "Either you confront them on it now, or you have to forgive them and move on. You cannot hang onto this."

And I also have to try, with everything in ME, to not be clueless. Because trust me, I KNOW I can wax addle-brained at times. And though I AM extremely careful with my words...always trying to be aware of other's feelings...everybody has a different grid of "what hurts". So what may not register on my radar as thoughtless, may very well be a hot spot for someone else.

Lord...me again. Please, give me a clue. So I will not be the source of someone else's brokenheart. Um, yeah. That about sums it up.

Just call me Aunt Bee

I live in a town of 11,000 people. A town that makes you feel like, somehow, you've gone back in time.

A town where:

-it's considered rude if you don't wave as you drive past.

-our house is still known for the doctor who used to live here. Even though that was years ago. "We live in the doctor's house"

-the week we moved in, we had people in our neighborhood stop and introduce themselves...telling us "if you ever need anything please come by"

- the postman actually parked his car and walked up to my porch to ask me about my license plate meaning.

-the library is a large, one room building where the librarian knows your name...and those of your children.

-it has its own yearly fair. that all fits in a "large yard".

-there's an elderly man who is retired, but does odd jobs for the town. The township and the people give him firewood, garden plants, and other things just because everybody watches out for him.

-a large group of young people gathers at the car wash to "park". But not ONCE in our two years of living here...and passing them almost every evening...have I seen them have anything resembling beer.

-strangers come up to us in the local McDonalds to tell us how much they appreciate our family

-we have neighbors on all three sides that I would trust our children to stay with

-the neighborhood policemen patrol our neighborhood just "watching".

-And the views...well, I'll just say we're surrounded by picturesque mountains (that's my town in the above picture...nestled among mountains).

In order for us to be able to get to our family, our church, and most of our friends, we have to drive around for a while on a highway with a bunch of Nascar-wanna-bes. But to be honest, Jet and I would have a hard time leaving this town just to be closer to the bigger one.

Somewhere in the background I can hear the whistle of "Andy Griffith". And I'm pretty sure that Deputy Barney Fife just drove by.

She found her thumb!

Ahhh. The thumb.

My almost 3 month old, Raegan, has just started to sleep through the night. In fact the past couple of nights, she's slept from 9 until 5am!! Ahhh, I feel like a real person again!!!! ;) And all because she has found her thumb. Now grant it, I didn't want her to be a thumb-sucker. 'Common knowledge' would say that making a child stop sucking a pacifier is much easier. The idea being that you can obviously take away the paci, but the thumb is always there.

But still, the verdict is in. And she's decided: a thumb, it will be. (note: my oldest daughter was a thumb sucker. Took her 1 week and the promise of a special surprise to stop completely. My second daughter is a pacifier girl. And she doesn't seem even remotely close to giving it up. So much for 'common knowledge').

But either way, I'm thrilled. I was so sleep deprived there for a while, I would fall asleep AS I nursed her in the middle of the night. Yes, I know. Put down the phone. Social Services was already alerted.

So far, she's been the easiest baby of all three. And believe me, for me to say that must mean she is an EASSSSSYYY baby because Charis was REALLY easy. How I love my girls.

Finding the Balance

A couple weeks back, I was asked to speak at a Ladies Retreat in New Jersey. For those of you that know me well, know that I am passionate about speaking. I love hearing the heart of the Lord for a particular group of people and giving it. But this time, I had to decline. Motherhood had to come first.

Some of you that read this may get a little indignant. "Can't you be a mother AND have a life?!" I certainly hope so, or I'm in for a rude awakening. But my newborn would still be exclusively nursing. And to leave all three of the girls with Jet, even if only for the day while they hung out at a near-by beach, would be bordering cruel and unusual punishment. (yes, Jet said he would do it. Simply because he's amazing. But...how about we try to vacation with three children before HE solos it?)

It was a really hard decision for me. And I tossed and turned mentally for a week, knowing that I had to give an answer to the woman organizing the retreat. I felt like two worlds collided. My passion and call to speak. And my being in the middle of a season where being a mom is a more than full time job.

But man, if the retreat didn't REALLY pull on the heartstrings of my personal passions! And maybe I'm still too new to the Realm of Motherhood and all it entails, but I'm finding that those "colliding world" decisions are becoming more and more commonplace. Where MY desires and needs come headlong up against those of my children. Even if in small portions:

I want to get back in shape. Therefore that requires time spent working out.
I want to talk to someone over the age of 4. Therefore I spend time on the phone.
I want to have ONE minute to myself...just to collect my thoughts. Therefore, I skip town.
I want to eat a pound of M&Ms (nevermind that it slaps my other desire to lose lbs in the face). But that requires sending my infant into rages of stomach cramps. She doesn't do "chocolate milk" very well.

Meanwhile, my girls...each at varying ages of development and desire...want one thing: mommy's undivided attention. It doesn't matter what that looks like. They just want it. And therefore that requires I set aside a Large portion of time to just be with them. AND THIS cuts into the "me" time. Thus, the dilemma: there's only 24 hours to each day and so many options on how to fill them.

So...I'm hit with that decision every day of my life. One that calls for balance. Because yes, I know there's nothing wrong with "me time". In fact, I know me...I'm a better mom because I get it. But on the other hand, these little girls are growing up fast. Too fast. And I get one shot at being their mom at this age. I want to be able to look back and think "I did a really good job." I don't want regrets, you know?

At the same time, I want to have a life outside of being a mom. Because if I focus my entire world around the adorableness of my little ones...one day, when they're grown up, I'll be a shell of a woman. Someone who's very happiness depends on the relationship with my adult children (trust me, I've seen this...not pretty).

Do I have a formula? No. Am I liking formulas? Yep. And charts and schedules and planners and hand-written instructional letters from God delivered by a fleet of angels ....

But all I can do is take one day at a time. (something that I'm slowly getting better and better at) And though it sounds cliche'...I want to live each day as if THIS day were going to forever be cemented on the memories of my little children.

Yes, Yes! I know that children have to learn to entertain themselves. It's life. And trust me, my children are PROS at that (thank you Jesus!). But I want them to look back on their childhood and remember ME. I mean, I remember specific times when my mom played with me.

--I remember her coloring a page out of my coloring book with me. She taught me how to outline the object first and then color it in. I was almost 5 years old. I loved it!
--I remember her taking me to the pool. She taught me how to have a "tea party" on the bottom of the pool. And we proceded to do it again and again and again. I was about 7 years old.
--I remember her taking me out to lunch. Golden Corral (in the bldg that is now El Charro's) . I even remember the booth where we sat. Just the two of us. She asked me if I had a boyfriend. I was in 4th grade. I felt so grown up. Like an equal. Like I really mattered to her.

And though it's very doubtful that Mom was thinking that those small moments would matter, I know I'll remember them until I die. Because it was a special time that MY MOM set aside for little ol' me.

I want my girls lives to be filled with those kinds of memories. Not the kind where I say "I'm busy ...can you wait?" Which, to my shame, happens more often than not. I want them to REMEMBER and KNOW that they matter to me. Especially when the teenage years of uncertainty come.
Bottom line...I know what I want. I want to be the best mom that I can possibly be to these little treasures. And I want to better myself by investing in friendships and exercise and down-time AND using the giftings the Lord has given me. Like speaking and writing. Now the only thing I have to do is find that balance. And something in me says that's not going to be the easiest thing to find...or to keep.

Oh God, help me not to let Life run me over...but to embrace it. Intentionally. as a wife. as a mom. as a woman. Because I want to make a difference. And for now, my sphere of influence is smaller than it has been in a while: my family and friends. But small or not, I want to do it well. I want to do it right. Because TODAY is not a dress rehearsal.