Gobble Gobble

Well, we finished it...

...our sorry looking excuse for a turkey pinata. Minus the red wattle. it fell off in the car.

Uncle Ikey (Jet's youngest brother) held it for the kids. I would say he was a brave soul, but these armed children were not blindfolded. Therefore, his body parts were not in danger. :)

The kids opted out of blindfolds. wanting to make strategic, repeated *wacks* at the turkey.

Raegan, being the youngest (20 months), went first.

She was just thrilled to be the center of attention. allowed, even encouraged!, to hit something with a bat. Who needs candy when you got permission to destruct?!

Than came Symantha (2 1/2 years).

She actually made contact. And ripped a leg right off our fine feathered friend.

Then came Selah (4 1/2 yrs). She's going through a season where she avoids being the center of attention. So she only took one hit...

If you take a look at her stance, you can see that she was ready to bolt right after she swung.

And then came Trent (4 1/2 years). He meant business.

Then Jacob (5 years)...he only put the blindfold on for a few seconds. He wanted to plainly see his target.

...we had a hard time convincing him that his turn was, indeed, over. ;)

Moving onto Charis (6 years). She gave it her all. quite pleased that she took his head off. See the orange balloon flying off?

And then came Chris (7). He was so swift and powerful that I:

1. didn't have time to get a picture before he nailed the beasty. causing candy bags to fly across the room. and

2. didn't trust a 7 year old, boy-with-weapon enough to take my eye off of him so that I could take a picture. You could see he meant business...

So in order to avoid that taste for blood... Uh, I mean candy...I bagged the sweets in little ziplocks and put their names on the bags.

I had visions of larger children plowing down the smaller. all in attempts to stockpile the most candy. This way they just looked for the bag with their name on it. each with equal candy.

tear free. fight free. blood free. ah, sweet victory!

And just like that, we had a moment of calm while they ate their candy like sharks.

Raegan was especially intent on eating whatever she could, as quickly as she could. We don't do candy in our house very often. (next to never)

Afterward, they entertained themselves with the turkey's carcass. compliments of Uncle Ikey's example.

Man, how my girls love that guy! ;) ...and their Thanksgiving pinata that's gracing his head.

Cousins!

9:30 AM...

Hungry people descend upon my home. from different sides of the valley, my family came. each bearing gifts of food.

and offspring:

Hannah (10 months), Sydney (almost 12 years), Skyler (almost 4), Charis (6), Raegan (20 mo), Alana (2 months), Courtney (18 years), Selah (4), Justin (16), and Eli (2).

Then we had a little "intermission" of sorts. A time to recharge our batteries before diving, headlong, into a mass of children. ;)

5:00 PM. We pull into Aunt Joanna's drive. The last to arrive. effectively causing the already loud atmosphere to raise a decibel. or ten.

Raegan, Selah, Charis, Grandpa, Seth (maybe 4 mo?), Grandmama, Alana, Jacob (5), Trent (4), Symantha (2), Chris (7)...and Michael (1) was MIA. taking a nap, I think.

To our girls, a day just doesn't get any better than this!

Pilgrim Hat Cookies

Before people get the wrong idea about me and think that I'm one of those moms that spends hours being crafty, allow me to assure you. I am not.

though I am artsy at heart...and though I think it highly commendable when pancakes are made to look like dog faces... I do not take the time to create masterpieces with our breakfast foods.

I am lucky to get through breakfast without an emotional outburst (the girls, not mine *grin*) without adding the pressure of "Art Class 101" in the midst of it.

Don't get me wrong. I have high hopes of one day being "That Mom". But in general, that's where my motivations remain. Hopeful. nothing more.

Only this Thanksgiving, I did want to make the attempt to include my girls in more than just the eating of our elaborate spread. I wanted them to feel like they're a vital part. to know they are.

And at this age, that is accomplished by the making of food. the creative kind.

Thus, the Pilgrim Hat cookies:

Take a bowlful of dark chocolate chips. Melt in microwave. Be sure to not burn it!! Mix in between the heating session.

Take large marshmellows. Dip in melted chocolate with toothpicks.
Place on striped shortbread cookies (the kind that you used to wear as rings when you were young. remember them?). chocolate side up.

Put them in the frig immediately. Allow to cool. then use yellow frosting to make the gold buckles.

Jet, my ingenious homeschooled husband, came up with the ever-so-helpful idea of putting the frosting into a baby's medicine dropper...

for a more precise miniature square. Worked like a charm!

Thanksgiving Fun

In two days, my girls will be spending the day surrounded by cousins.

In the morning, we'll be with my family. For a laid-back brunch, where we have the opportunity to just sit around, talk, and hopefully play some games.

Oh yeah. And eat.

There are 10 kids, ranging in age from 18 to 2 months. So I expect there will be a lot of laughter!


But then that afternoon, we'll be with Jet's family (most of them anyway). Where there will be 10 kids ranging in ages from 7 to 2 months.

Can we say LOUD?! CrAzY, fun times ahead!

So...this year, I wanted to make sure that all those young kids had something specifically designed for them. a special sumpin-sumpin for them to remember. hopefully something that they will not only remember, but cherish.

One of the great things about children is, it doesn't take much to please them. Just a little recognition and interaction. And so I researched Thanksgiving Crafts and Games.

Here's the template for the Turkey Hat we'll be doing at Aunt Joanna's house:

You can find the specific directions here.

I am using the kid's handprints for the wings and white construction paper eyes instead of pom-poms. I figure there's enough to spend money on without buying little white pom-poms.

And to help the different parts glue, I used clothes pins. Just *clip* them on, keep them there for about 10 minutes, and ta-da...it's glued! Otherwise, I'm sure the pieces would fall off before they made it through 5 minutes on the child's head.

Now. I'm off to finish up the Turkey Pinata. God help me.

Because sometimes

...clothes are over-rated. and you just gotta go al naturale.

Raegan is ready to potty-train. She has been for a while now. And I, to put it simply, am not.

But in keeping with her strong personality, she isn't taking no for an answer. and has been stripping down to nothing. strategically positioning herself at the bathroom door. waiting for a sister to emerge. allowing her immediate entry to the room I am trying so desparately to keep her out of.

Apparently, I will soon be in full potty-training mode. whether I like it or not.

*The Dream

God is into planting dreams in our hearts. The life-changing kind. The ever inspiring this-is what-will-fulfill-the-core-of-who-you-are kind. The kind of dreams that are worth devoting our lives to.

I can just see Him now. Up in heaven. molding. sculpting. chiseling out the perfect Dream for each of our lives. A dream that he has equipped us to carry. equipped us to complete.

I imagine him completing this Dream...fashioned by his hands and his hopes...and calling over an angel.

"Alright. This is a special assignment. I've spilled blood and tears over this set up... over wooing her heart by my Love and then carving out a little niche where this Dream will go. You take care not to deliver it to anyone but the person I have fashioned it for."

And then he tenderly hands the Dream over to the angel-on-assignment...

Have you ever noticed that when you receive a Dream from On-High, it feels all light and fluffy? You like pulling it out and tossing it around. You show it off to those you're close to. You sit in on a proverbial shelf and examine it from all angles. It feels good, this gift postmarked from Heaven.

Yep, you say, this is one special Gift... given just to Me. God...well, He must think I'm pretty stinkin' special.

And then time goes by.

The dream gets a little dusty sitting on that shelf. It takes some time and patience for the upkeep. Plus, things aren't going quite as you thought they would. not as quickly. not as smoothly.

And yeah, the dream is growing and all...but as it does, it gets heavier. harder to hold onto. harder to throw up and toss around. It no longer feels all light and fluffy.

In fact, it sort of resembles concrete: heavy and impossible to tote around.

Do you have a Dream Shelf? Because I know I do. Some dreams have been sitting there for quite some time. Some I've had to push wayyyy back and ignore due to this season in my life. And some the Lord has recently pushed to the forefront of the Shelf. reminding me of them. challenging me to step out in them.

And then there's one Dream in particular that I'm currently walking out.

For I'm starting up a Life Long Discipleship Program, where the prime focus is to train up a generation of worshiping warriors. People, recruited from birth, to participate in a specialized program where they come to intimately know the heart of the King. And then, take it out to a world in critical need of understanding His Father's heart for them.

These little people just happen to come from my womb.

I remember when the vision of Motherhood began in my heart...first, the shock of it all. then, the sheer joy of having received a Heavenly Invitation over my life to participate in something larger than myself.

It felt like an honor. like a sweet recognition of how much God trusted me with something of such magnitude. like a higher calling to partner with him to accomplish the things that are on His heart.

Ah yes, life was grand. because I had been hand-delivered The Dream.

With it came peace... yes, a knowledge that all wouldn't be roses and such... but still, a peace and a joy in the knowledge that this was MINE to accomplish. And though it remains a joy...admittedly there comes a day when a certain reality sets in:

Um, excuse me, Lord? We need to chat...because this dream takes work. Tons of it. The hard and sweaty kind. And I'm losing some sleep in the process. When did that become part of the deal? Because really, I didn't sign up for interrupted sleep.

AND while I'm on the topic, it seems to have come equipped with the innate ability to chip away at my rough spots. What's up with that?! So not only has it lost the whole fluffy feeling, Lord, but it seems to have exchanged the feathers for arsenal. The kind designed to hone in on my weaknesses.

AND let me just add, the whole "finished product" isn't coming together quite as fast as I had thought it would when I first opened this Dream of yours. In fact, I'm not seeing much progress. If any.

And just so you know, God, I'm all about seeing progress. On a daily basis! It so happens to be one of my personal motivators. Weren't you aware of that bit of information when you designed this thing?! This Dream called Motherhood that you hand-delivered. You know. Especially. For. ME!?

Has that ever happened to you? You receive a invitation to partner with God on a specific assignment, down a specific path.

Uncharted Territory.

Where you naively assumed "uncharted" meant exciting adventure around every corner. NOT the drudgery of walking blindly into a pathless jungle. Where you have to remind yourself, almost daily as you forge ahead, that this Dream God planted in your heart IS a gift. Still hand-picked by the Father especially for you. Still a blessing.

Even amidst the rugged terrain that I now am wading through, I daily remind myself of this. For I know the Promised Land is not too far in the distance:

A land flowing with milk not drank from sippy cups and honey not caked in some one's hair. big girl panties and gateless stairways. children who sleep through the night. and conversations that do not include the words "poopy" and "no-no".

It's so close, I can almost touch it.

Yet. As mind-numbing as some days can be, I have to acknowledge that this season is still a part of The Dream. A priceless part. And I want to embrace it. I need to embrace it.

For I've heard it said "The days are long, but the years short."

I believe it. And before I know it, this dream will be over. I'll wake up. and this season in life will be gone. finished. My part in the playing out of this Dream will be done. And now is the only chance I have to partner with God in this arena.

So yeah. This particular Dream IS of the life-changing kind. The ever inspiring this-is-what-will-fulfill-the-core-of-who-you-are kind. The kind of dream that's worth devoting my lives to.

But admittedly, it's also the kind that can suck the life right out of me.

Honestly God, I'm not sure how to end these thoughts....other than to say THANK YOU for choosing me to raise these girls. For picking me to carry this Dream that your heart birthed. To be the one that gets a front row seat in its revealing. in its unfolding.

I just ask that you please enable me to carry this Dream through to the end. In a way that I'm proud of. In a manner that produces a strong foundation in the lives of my daughters.

Hmm. Kind of like concrete. You know, the things not so easily tossed around.

Sumo Wrestler

And in this corner...

...it's 9 week-old Buddha Baby. Weighing in at 12 lbs. 10 oz.

Effecting raising her into the 75% for weight. Matched with a whooping 25% for height and 75% for head.

Coming soon to a Sumo Wrestling match near you.

(height was 22 inches. though I could see by the mark the nurse made that it wasn't quite accurate. but oh well.)

Birth Order

**the following is not my original writing; I don't know who the author is. I got it from my mom, who read it to me over the phone this morning. all while laughing like a crazed hyena.


"BIRTH ORDER"

YOUR CLOTHES:
1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.

PREPARING FOR THE BIRTH:
1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don't bother because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your eighth month.

THE LAYETTE:
1st baby: You pre-wash newborn's clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby's little bureau.
2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?

WORRIES:
1st baby: At the first sign of distress...a whimper, a frown...you pick up the baby
2nd baby: You pick the baby up when her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
3rd baby: You teach your three-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing

PACIFIER:
1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until you can go home and wash and boil it.
2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice from the baby's bottle.
3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in.

DIAPERING:
1st baby: You change your baby's diapers every hour, whether they need it or not.
2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed.
3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees.

ACTIVITIES:
1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, and Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.

GOING OUT:
1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home five times.
2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.

AT HOME:
1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday watching to be sure your older child isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby.
3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.

SWALLOWING COINS:
1st child: When first child swallows a coin, you rush the child to the hospital and demand x-rays.
2nd child: When second child swallows a coin, you carefully watch for the coin to pass.
3rd child: When third child swallows a coin you deduct it from his allowance.

No words.

...And they buried a son.

It's ironic to me that I've been nominated for Best Encouraging Blog. Because I these past few days I've had nothing to give. nothing but questions.

Actually even before that. for weeks I've felt less than encouraging. I'm sleep deprived. exhausted. and emotionally torn over many different aspects of my personal life. And I'm questioning many many things.

Encouraged yet?

Yeah. Me neither.

This past week, we heard of a young couple who lost a son. My husband was actually holding our precious 2 month old when he heard, causing Jet to immediately weep.

because their son was also an infant (5 weeks).

I didn't know them. I had only seen them a few times. a few years ago. I didn't know the child. I wasn't even aware that he lived.

But I'm very aware that he died.

I have miscarried three times. painful experiences, to be sure. Yet I have no concept of what they are feeling in this moment. the nightmare that they're forced to wake up to every morning.

And I grieve deeply for them. strangers who now have my prayers.

Would you pray with me? Jesus is the only thing that can bring healing to this kind of sorrow.

Gift Tip

As I perused my attic this week, I came across a couple of things that made me sigh. Remember these?

Think hard. I may take a moment or two to jog your memory.

That's right. It's called a walkman. I'm sure you had one. We all did.

Well, we have two stored away in our attic. Unused for years. Rendered completely useless by CDs, Ipods, and Mp3s.

I couldn't even sell these if I tried. Thus the sigh... I hate harboring useless stuff in my attic. I admit, I was tempted to just trash the beasties and be done with it.

But then, it hit me! (Thank you for inspiration, Lord!)

My girls would love these! They've never seen them before. and have no clue that they're considered "outdated." I have old cassettes they can listen to...and the library has stories on cassettes that they'd love during Rest Time!

Sweet.

And just like that...I have another inexpensive (Can we say FREE?!) gift to add to their Christmas morning fiesta. one that I know will be used over and over and over again.

Just like it was looonng ago. in my own life. Got any that you could pass on to your young child this Christmas?

And so I challenge you, as you try to save money this Christmas...Go shopping. In your very own attic (or basement). Go with an open mind as you try to see your old "junk" through the eyes of a child. You may be surprised.

I know I was.

Baker's dozen

This picture AND blog were first posted summer of 2007. I repost it because its contents have CONTINUALLY been on my mind these last couple of months. And I plan to try and capture some of those thoughts over the next few weeks.

And so I leave you with this. the foundational point of where my heart is as a mom....

Confession: I want to have a ton of children.

I'm sure that THAT comment, all by itself, is enough to send most of your brains into warp-speed shock. WHAT?! You mean, have more than the 2.5 children alloted by the US Census? Or even more than the 4 that the "really far out church people" have?!! Have you lost your mind?

In a word. Yes.

Which moves me to answer the next question that you're thinking: How many children do you mean exactly? I mean are we talking 5 here or are you making plans for your very own sports team?
To answer. I don't really know. But I have to say that when I see three teenage boys walking around together, something deep inside of me says, "I want that." I like the idea of having a three-some of boys. And being that I'm yet to have ANY boys... you do the math.

And this brings me to the next thought. There's no way to ENSURE that we will actually have three consecutive boys. OR three boys at all. In fact, allow me to give you a birds-eye-view into one marital conversation:

Me:"Well, how many do YOU want to have?" -I'm pretty sure it's my turn to ask our tri-yearly question. Therefore, I do my wifely duty and start the conversation.

Husband: "I don't know. But I do want a boy."

Me: "Yeah well, I think if we have one boy, we at least need to do the courtesy of giving him a brother."

Husband:"Yeah. So what if we have a boy...and then try for another boy, but get a girl. (note: this is not posed as a question. But rather a statement. Hence, the period mark.) Where does this theory of yours go from there?"

Me: "Okay, so what if the next baby we have is a girl. Four girls."

Husband, without a moment's hesitation: "Then we're done."

Me: "yeah, but what about the boy?"

Blank stare. No words. My husband is stumped. And though he says nothing, I guess that he's envisioning himself later on in life. Me, surrounded by my girls doing what girls do. Him... surrounded by bottles of conditioners... and lotions... and hormonal boys trying to date his babies.

I know there's no way to tell what we'll have. Though I've heard there are "theories" out there about how to create the "correct" gender. Trust me, I've seen the writings. Do yourself a favor and don't read them. Otherwise at that moment when you and your spouse are being intimate, your mind will flash to "page 3. third paragraph down" And you'll realize that you need to stop and reposition. Because obviously this is the way to have a GIRL. Um yeah, not so good for the whole romancing thang. *laughing*

But still...I know that I want to have a house full of children. Well, let me specify. One day, I'd love to have a housefull of grown children. There's just something about THAT thought that really appeals to me. I envision huge Thanksgiving dinners. Everyone laughing. Siblings picking on each other and trying to embarrass the newest datee. Built-in friendships. The lifelong kind.


But it's just the getting there part that gives me a thirst for the hard liquor. The sleepless nights. The family flu bug...and all that that lovely venture entails. The endless diapers. The potty training mishaps that leave tell-tale marks on your Persian rug. The constant fighting over the toy that someone else has.

But regardless, I cannot deny that my heart seems to have been created to mother a lot more than I currently have. And somehow I doubt when I'm lying on my deathbed, that I'll look around me and say, "dangit, I knew I shouldn't have had those last two kids!"

Somehow, I know that I'll look back on my life and know that I did something good. Because as Dr's Sears and his wife say (they have 8 children and are always questioned on the wisdom of it):


....The world needs MY children.

My beautiful, sweet family...

I've mentioned Lisa before, the photographer who recently took our family pictures. But I have to mention her again, as I "unveil" my favorites.

How she was able to get these pictures is beyond me! Being that Raegan stayed still for a whopping 1.2 seconds.

But she not only captured their individual beauty, but their personalities as well.


Our Clan of Girls...


The whole motley crew...

Lisa, your ability to capture my family in all their beauty and spirit... well, those photos made me realize just how deeply I love my life.

And I couldn't be more sincere.

**again, if you're in the PA, MD, VA area and want to use this photographer, email me at GvnJCmyALL@aol.com

Through the eyes of somone less "experienced"

They stare each other down, the two females sitting at neighboring tables in the crowded restaurant. The Hispanic. The Caucasian.

Neither face held any tell-tale expression as they sat. Blank stares. intently watching the other one...watching them.

And there I sat, in my corner of the restaurant, watching them watch each other.

The interaction was completely spell-bounding to me. For though I felt a little intrusive watching their eyes locked in a stare-down, I couldn't bring myself to look away.

What were they thinking? Why were they staring? Why weren't they talking? Wasn't this whole interaction uncomfortable, to say the least? Why didn't someone at least look away...put an end to this misery?!

If it were me, I would have looked away LONNNG ago. most likely annoyed that someone was just staring at me in the first place. The nerve.

But I wouldn't have stopped there. I'm sure I, in all my creative imagination, could have taken it a step farther had their stare-down of me continued.

I probably would've assumed that they were judging me. and finding me lacking. And then that assumption, begun in the corners of my active imagination, may have magically turned into an irrefutable fact.

Turning my annoyance into to anger. "What right do they have to judge me? punk. Why don't you and your indifferent expression find someone else to stare at?!

But I could tell that these two ladies weren't entering into the self-talk I know I could have been tempted to entertain. These ladies didn't even look remotely upset. Just unabashedly interested.

Yet I had to at least wonder...Why wouldn't they just look away? Stop this intensive ogling and just move on with life? But I already knew the answer.

It was obvious. acceptable. expected even.

They were children.

Completely devoid of "social rules," where interest in someone has yet to come pre-tagged with an insinuation of the motivation.

And this interaction was anything but uncomfortable for them. And far from misery-inducing. For they appeared completely captivated by each other. content in their silent conversation.

Though their faces held neither a smile nor a frown, I saw a simple, pure curiosity....armed with the possibility of something more in each of their eyes:

An "I know we don't know each other but you might be my next best friend" type of mentality.

OR at the very least, a miniature verison of a Dinner Theatre:

I'll watch you while you eat. You may very well make me smile. And that'd be worth it, right? So go ahead. Be yourself. Flaunt your stuff. I'm just here to watch you shine. And maybe when you're done, I can express myself too?

Such is the life of a child when encountering friends and strangers alike. It doesn't matter who it is...the point in their existence is to enjoy others and be enjoyed by them.

But then you grow up.

And suddenly that doesn't seem so right, you know? For some reason, it seems more suitable, more respectable to hide ourselves behind something. in attempts to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. for fear of coming across as too strong. or too self-absorbed. or too flirty. or too....

and to definitely not be caught watching someone else live life. where we may be accused of judging. or criticizing. or stalking. or...

Therefore, it's obviously much more "mature" to just live life where staring and curiosity of the stranger sitting next to you is Off Limits.

Sad, isn't it?


Because as I sat there watching my 6 year-old daughter stare at that adorable Hispanic girl sitting across from us, I had to wonder...how many times have I been sitting beside my potential "next best friend". but passed them by. robbing myself and others of the chance to love.

All due to adult decorum.

And though I am the mom, the one dedicated to teaching my daughters values as well as their ABCs... there are times where all I can do is sit back and watch them.

and learn.

A stirring in the wind

As I slowly logged a few miles on my trusty treadmill, I watched our front yard's lone tree. Mindlessly I watched, trying to focus on anything other than the miles that were s.l.o.w.l.y ticking by.

Then. A gust of wind came, blowing the remaining few leaves off its branches.

And it's as if the Wind of the Holy Spirit accompanied those leaves that rushed towards my house, hitting the window. For as the leaves collided with my home, He breathed this phrase to my heart.

"The winds of change are coming. It's time."

I've known it was coming for a while now. The Lord warned me about five months ago. saying "You'll be fine, but you need to prepare as if things were about to get hard."

I thought I knew what he meant at the time. But most likely, I still don't understand the exact details. But this I do know, change is coming.

Ironically, it's the exact promise that Bar*ak Oba*ma has flaunted.

Now, I'm not about to step foot into political arena, armed with my boxing gloves and bared teeth. That's so not the point of my thinking at all. It just strikes me as ironic that the very thing Oba*ma has promised is the very thing that God has also spoken.

Though I'm fairly certain, they have different things in mind. *insert a raise of my eyebrows and a sigh*

These are the thoughts that flooded my brain... the thoughts that accompanied the words He was speaking to my heart as I drummed out a marching rhythm on the treadmill:

It's time to put away laziness and a comfortable familiarity with God. to go beyond just proclaiming to be a "Christian." to dig in. hardcore.

I believe we are entering a Time where we can no longer just say "Sure, I'm a Christian". For that word no longer holds power. It's been misused.

for political gain. for personal gain. in casual conversation as if speaking of a hunting lodge where we have membership.

Most assuredly, a far cry from the weighty meaning it first held: someone who has given their life to purely represent Christ.


It's Time..

that we, the Church, stop throwing around some "title" (I'm Brethren. I'm Charismatic. I'm...blah blah blah) and instead start really LIVING out Christianity.

BE the living Word. DO the things God said he was giving us power to do. Allow God to ACT through us...to demonstrate the miracles he has on the sidelines, waiting for His Beloved (us) to call them forth.

It's Time...

that we, the Church, hold fast to Truth. in all its undeniable offense. Because it will offend. Christ promised it. It's time to unashamedly shout it. fight for it. Not for the intent of starting arguments. but rather for the releasing of God's power throughout the earth.

Before Truth's voice is drowned out all together. muddied by a little of this and a little of that.

It's time...

to dig further into the depths of Jesus. to press past the "church" mentality, where it's perfectly fine to just grace a building with your well-dressed self and sing a few hymns. All while mentally going over the past week and waiting for some benediction that will excuse you to go eat lunch.

It's time...

to press in to the presence of the Holy Spirit. To die to selfishness and embrace his fullness.
to let go of all the things that entangle me here and RUN after Jesus. like my very life depends on it.

Because it very well may.

None of this is meant to stir up a spirit of fear. because that's not of the Lord. But as an awakening of our hearts and an opening of our eyes that we cannot continue to go as we have been.

...So now I have to ask myself, since God spoke this to my heart and all. What do I need to change in my life so I can better position myself to do just that?

It's beginning to look a lot like..

It's that time of year again. The Holidays.

Admittedly, Christmas music has been playing in my house for weeks now. Along with a few select Christmas videos.

I figured, the girls were ready. And I...well, I'm sleep-deprived enough to give in without too much of a fight. Besides the fact that I love everything about this time of year. :) So "tis the season" has been happening around my home for a while now.

But I've been thinking.

Because it seems this time of year...Thanksgiving and Christmas... comes and goes before I even have a chance to take a deep breath. Even when we take the initiative to cut back on traveling, to cut back on spending, to just sit and relax as together a family...even then, November and December seem to race by regardless.

I'm left feeling like the Holidays, though we celebrated them, passed us by without much impact. Seriously, I think it happens every year... I go to bed on December 25th and ask Jet, "Is it really over already?!"

And so I've been thinking and thinking.... How can I make these next few weeks special. memorable. meaningful for my girls?

How can I stretch out the holiday for us as a family? to not just have it all end after the presents are opened Christmas morning... to not just have it be all about the presents... to use this time as an opportunity to celebrate the spirit of thanksgiving, the spirit of giving, the life of Jesus, and joy in the moment all at the same time.

And so I think.

All smiles

I don't remember any of my girls smiling...for real...as early on as this little one did. Before she was 5 weeks old, she would meet your gaze, wait, and then burst into a huge grin.

You couldn't deny that her smiles were, most assuredly, not gas. ;)

In following suit with her name's meaning ("A heavenly outpouring of Joy"), she continues to spill joy all over the place. At 8 weeks, she loves to coo and smile and interact.

This picture makes her cheeks look a little larger than they look in real life. But oh well...I still just want to *squeeze* her!

How do I love thee?

...Let me count the ways.

All four of our daughters are blessed in ways that they are yet to comprehend. yet are experiencing on a daily basis ...in their relationship with their Daddy.

...as I type this, they are all running around the house pretending to be hungry wolves that want to eat Daddy and Lani.



**picture taken by the most amazing photographer I've ever encountered. She is from PA but came to my neck of the woods. If you are interested in using her (and I advise that you do!), email me. (GvnJCmyALL@aol.com)

Neck and Neck

I happen to live in one of the "Deciding States" (or Swing States) of this election. At least that's what the news is saying.

Jet came home from work today so I could go to the voting polls without four wild children-in-tow. *thank you, honey*

And all I say is that I voted with the Good Ol' Boys. Just think "Dukes of Hazard".

Men who haven't shaved in ...oh, 30 years. People who think deodorant is optional. Citizens who aren't afraid to unabashedly proclaim their political opinions. loudly.

It was an educational experience.

For an HOUR I stood in line. waiting to cast my vote. listening to my fellow townsmen (that must be read as Professional Rednecks) declare Ob*ama to be the devil himself.

The Election Officials said they'd never seen the turnout like this. The line was LOOONNNGGG. It had been that way, nonstop, since 6 AM. Apparently there are some gun-loving backwoodsmen who are rather fond of their firearms, thankyouverymuch.

Hopefully all those gun-loving men and their votes will help capture our "Swing State" for McCain.

And for the record, I love my small town. and the simple people who live here. I just may take a complimentary case of deodorant to the next town gathering.

In the spirit of being neighborly and all.