Christmas Photo. Take One.

Well, I did it. I took down Christmas and boxed it away in the attic.

I had intended to pack everything but the tree. You know, so I could attempt to get better Christmas pictures of the girls in front of the it. Like I did last year.

But once I got started packing boxes, I couldn't stop. What can I say? It's the OCD in me. heh heh

Bu-bye, Tree!! Your pre-lit lights were, once again, a royal pain in the *ahem* ...hind quarters this year.

So this will have to do for our 2008 Christmas shot of the girls.

At least the one in front of the tree (albeit it in an off-centered sort of way). But so help me, I will get a better picture in a few days!! Sans the tree of course.

But eh. Who cares? I'm planning on sticking them on top of something red and green. And when all's said and done, that's what really matters, right? ;)

Favor

This evening as I walked on my tredmill, I began thinking/praying over some of the current difficulties that friends and businesses are going through during this economic downfall.

And my mind was drawn to This Season of Favor, wondering how it plays into all of it. When the Lord spoke to me.

You cannot learn to fight with favor, if there's no need to go to battle.

Wow, Lord. Can I just say that one statement about made me fall off the treadmill?

For those that go to my church... that are trying to embrace the prophetic word while living out certain current circumstances that appear to be a direct slap-in-the-face of the Promise....this speaks so much. Does it not?

Keep pressing in as we learn to FIGHT with the favor He's promised.

My Sweet Selah

This little lady's mind is always working

...even when she's not saying anything.

Tonight I was in a rush.

I wanted to put my daughters in the bed. have them quickly brush their teeth, get dressed in their footie pajamas and go straight to sleep.

I wanted my downtime. But Selah didn't want to be quiet; she wanted to chat.

Admittedly, most nights I'm so ready for some time with Jet...or to myself...that I don't stay and let the girls just talk. But for whatever reason, this particular night, I did.

And I'm so so thankful. Not only was it a sweet time for me as a parent, but it also gave me a little insider's view into the Hand of God on my sweet Selah's life.

Selah: Sometimes I pray for yours and Daddy's friends. Like sometimes I pray for Aaron.

... she pauses as if she's trying to think of their last name...

Me: "Gabi's daddy?"

Selah: Yeah...Gabbi's daddy. Sometimes I pray for him. Who's friend is he?

Me: Mommy's and Daddy's. What do you pray?

Selah: I don't know. Just whatever I feel.


I sit in stunned silence for a minute before gushing over how proud I am.

Me: Does God tell you what to pray?

Selah: No...I just pray what I feel.

Me: "Well that is sometimes the way that God speaks to us. by giving us a "feeling"

... continued gushing of how proud I am.

Selah: Well I only do it sometimes...

And with that, the moment faded away. never to be retrieved again. like so many of the fleeting moments we have with our kids, huh?

I can't relay how precious this whole thing was to me. First, knowing that she's been doing this. interceding for people on her own. inspired by God.

AND that she wanted to share it with me!

AND that she wanted to clarify that it wasn't an all the time thing. Even though she could see that her doing it made me proud, she didn't want to give me a faulty view of the frequency. That showed such integrity!

I'm so so blessed by this little girl. by her relationship with Jesus. and her obvious heart for others. and I had to document this small moment in time.

Christmas has come and gone.

Let us pause for a moment of mourning...

How I dread this time of year. The After Christmas season. Town is all a-buzz...with cranky, unsatisfied consumers returning gifts that, for a plethora of reasons, didn't suit them.

And my own home is also all abuzz. with sad people who have to partake in the dismantling of All Things Christmas.

My sparkly, beautiful tree is still up, mocking me.


For it has to come down.

And when it's a faux (doesn't that sound better than FAKE?) evergreen tree and piles of breakable ornaments needing to be individually wrapped in tissue paper...this includes a better part of the afternoon. Complete with many-a-trek up two flights of stairs to its cozy home: the attic.


*the following is my nativity set that our good friend, Jon Clark, said I'd be reported for... to my church elders. for its Swedish rendition of Jesus. complete with blond hair and ultra-pale skin. *laughing*

The Christmas decorations that make my house feel so festive and colorful are needing to be packed away. causing a sudden lack of festivity in my soon-to-be lackluster abode.

Where Red, Green, Shiny, and Sparkly have been for weeks, there will soon be Nothing. just an empty space of ...has been. Normal, every day nothing.

I know...just hand over the Drama Queen award. I'm pathetic, I don't dispute this.

Our mailbox goes from filled-with-holiday-cheer to bills. and non-profits asking for donations before December 31st. What happened to the spirit of giving? Oh that's right...it's my turn to fork it over. to our local mortgage lender.

So in a span of a few days, my house goes from looking all cheery to ...not. Tis a sad sad time for me.

But despite the depressive "after" part, I wouldn't trade the last months for anything. I love all things PRE Christmas. Especially the shopping for my loved-ones.

And this year, I found something last minute that I'm thinking will go down in Christmas Present Hall of Fame.

At least in this house of daughters...

*we got the book version. not the audio

I'm happy to say that I got this little beauty of a stocking stuffer last minute for $3. And it fast became Jet's and my favorite gift this year.

We cried. We laughed. We were inspired to look at our daughters trek to teenager-dom in a whole new way.

It's a story of a guy with four daughters (so easy for us to relate to him, eh?!) who decided when they were young that if a guy wanted to take his daughter out for a date, he had to interview them first.

(Jet said to put in here that the cover makes him look like a dork-dad. but his image is redeemed in the pictures inside. *too funny*)

No, the "Interview" wasn't in some over-controlling way. but.......... oh, just get the book and read it. It's was so sweet. eye-opening. inspiring for both of us.

especially for Jet.

Here's a quote from a man who was one of the young guy long ago interviewed by The Dad:

"Removing a father's role as protector of his daughter and her purity would be like removing the castle wall that guards a princess."

Exactly. Get it. Read it.
...I would say you can borrow Jet's, but I'm thinking you'd have to wrestle him to the ground to get it. being that this copy was signed by the very princesses that he's standing guard for.

So help me, Lady,

If you don't get that camera out of my face....
Have I mentioned I got a new camera for Christmas? (Thank you, hon!)

Nothing fancy. Nothing big. In fact, it resembles a box of cards. thin. sleek. capable of more things than I am aware.

I got it just two days before my other camera died. *ka-put*

And, as you can see by the above picture, the Maternal Paparazzi is driving the kids to do senseless acts of vulgarity.

Anything to make that lady with a camera go away...

Sounds heard around my house this evening....

**Don't forget to go to the previous blog and leave your blog site (or email it to me) since my computer has rebelled, committing electronic mutany... effectively erasing your blog sites from my Favorite File.


Joe Cool here (21 months) likes to do things her way. Enough like our way, so she feels like a good girl...just her version of it.

Like meal-time prayer, for instance.

The three oldest girls were sitting at the table. I was just walking into the dining room when Raegan busts out, "Food. Body. Amen."

And then she proceeds to devour...

I foresee Inner City Ministry in her future. Not a lot of fluff. just straight to the point. :)

...
And then there's my oldest girl. Charis (6)...

The ever sweet-spirited little lady. always wanting to see the bright side of things. always wanting to encourage.

Jet was holding Lani, and trying to manuever a knife at the same time. I offered to help. To which Charis yells out,

"Mommy is so very awesome!! She can cut food with a fork!"

Just reading that, it may sound sarcastic. But sadly it was beyond sincere. Apparently I'm not very impressive...if my ability to cut meat stands out and dubs me awesome.

Eh. Who am I kidding? I'll take whatever "awesome" accolades I can get!! ;) Even though it always appears to be the small things that leave a lasting impression on the girls' awe of me.

.....

And then there's my little Selah-bug (4 1/2 yrs).

She walked up to me today, crying "I miss my Daddy!"

After having him home (and all to themselves) for five days straight, his going to work this morning came as a bit of a shock.

Me: Do you want to call him?

Selah: No. (Imagine those big eyes puddled with tears. saying no only because she knew he was busy at work. but wanting to talk to him all the same)

Me: Maybe he'll call you? Because I know he misses you, too!

Selah: It's okay if he doesn't call me. She sighs and walks away. (insert me frantically emailing Jet that he had better call. Seconds later, the phone rings.)

Selah answers the phone: It's DADDY!! She cries all over again as says that she misses him.

I don't know if, outside of this blog, that she'll remember this little interchange years from now.

But I know, without doubt, that Doted-on Daddy will.

....

After writing some of what my day looked like today, my mind rests on one thing. And that is this...I truly feel sorry for people who view children as a bother. an annoyance. a "have to" if you want to wear the hat of Parent.

Because children are treasures. Beyond worth.

I can't imagine my day without them. And I'm so glad I don't have to.

Need Your Help

My computer has...hm...how to say this? Personality.

The not nice not kind. The kind with grudges and personal vendettas. The kind that likes to delete my saved emails without asking me. and purges my Favorites Folder without so much as a warning.

And it's done it. Yet again.

All of my Blog Friends have been deleted. People who's blogs I visit daily are now erased from my favorites list. Yes, Jo, even yours.

And though I read their content on a regular basis, I have neither the time nor the memory power to track the addresses down.

That's where you come in.

Please leave a comment (yes, I am opening comments for this blog) ;)....just so I have record of your blog once more.

And no, I usually don't comment on blogs...so even if you THINK I read, I probably do. Just silently. PLEASE leave a comment, so I have your address again!! (I may leave this up for a while...as I know that people are traveling and not spending time in Blogdom)

And yes, I will be getting kicking AOL to the curb in the near future. Enough is enough.

Premanufactured. Why not?!

For the record, I neither bought nor assembled this beaut' of a gingerbread house.

And my girls loved every minute it took to put it together.

To them, it is completely normal and even fun to pull out:
1. Cardboard-like stale gingerbread.
2. Frosting, thick enough, that it would kill you on the spot, were you crazy enough to try it
3. Hard little candies that no one with a taste bud would want to try

all from the convenience of a handy-dandy box. designed to aid you in baking building a gingerbread house of your very own.

Awww. Can't you just feel the Christmas cheer just looking at the picture?

Well apparently, my husband...upon viewing said gingerbread house...felt something a tad bit different.

Shall we call it "I-want-to-one-up-you-ism"? Yes, lets! Because I'm not quite sure how else to refer to such...uh, ambition. But you be the judge. Mkay?

*clearing throat...as I prepare to relay a story that still makes me shake my head in awe and wonder*

Jet: "We should make a gingerbread CASTLE next year."

Christin: "Uh. right." I look at him and give him 'that look'. to which he smiles and returns it.

But after completely blowing him off, I try to make amends by offering: "Well, I have a baking kit to make those things."

Jet: "Castles?!"
Christin: "Well. No."

I was thinking of the Pampered Chef Stoneware Gingerbread House Baking Molds. that I have in a box in the closet.

A box that's been set aside for things I had rendered completely useless. things that would most assuredly never be used. things I unsuccessfully tried to sell on Craigslist.

And honestly? I was feeling pretty stinkin' MarthaStewart-esk just confessing that we owned such an oddity.

I mean, really...Walmart sells KITS, people. Why make it from scratch? I scoff.

But Jet wasn't impressed by my confession. Nor was he kidding...or backing down.

Jet: "No really. I could draw it up on AutoCad..."

He lost me after that. My mind went blank.

I hear when extreme shock occurs, your brain sometimes has to shut down. ignoring all stimuli, in order to remain conscious. Especially when confronting that of an excessively talented husband, who is honestly much more Martha than I will ever be.

He bakes. He sews. His poop is gold.

Next year, after my husband has successfully autocad-ed (is that even a word?) us a Gingerbread Castle, I will forever be deemed the Lesser-parent. (like many times before)

Note to self: Must track down a Gingerbread Bill Gate's Estate Making Kit. Call Costco in the morning.

Recipe for love. Canine style.

Take one rather large dog...
With a propensity to love little people...



Add one small girl with a strong desire to lavish gifts on large animals.

And you get one huge pile of brand new raw hide bones.

And a very happy dog.

As you can imagine Toby tends to favor the little Cabinet Thief.

I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap...

Hello Poison Control?

Uh, yes. I have a problem. You see my 21 month old got into the bathroom.

Well, no. She didn't ingest anything. At least not that I'm aware.

Because...I didn't know where else to turn. and you people are supposed to help, right?!

Well...she came out of the bathroom with sopping wet hands. The bathroom that has no sink, mind you.

Uh-huh. That's my guess. She stuck her hands in the toilet.

Well, it's just that... *sigh* when I walked in, those same hands were in...well, they were in her mouth.

I know it's not really a poisonous substance! But you don't understand. I'm a busy woman and that toilet isn't always the most sparkling fresh place in the house. I wasn't planning on someone using it for a punch bowl.

I will from now on. trust me.

But all I want to know from you, Poison Control Dispatcher, is should I try and make her throw up or something? Because if she doesn't, I may.

Thankful

My mind goes into a thousand directions these days. Christmas shopping. Baking. Wrapping. Planning. Watching my amazingly adorable girls innocently interact with All Things Christmas.

Hence the lack of posts, as I can't seem to keep my brain still long enough to record anything.

Yet. There is one thought that I find myself coming back to again and again. And it all revolves around an indescribable thankfulness when I think of my little girl, Alana.

But first allow me to back up a bit...

Ever since I was a baby, my Mom has bought and/or made me a Christmas tree ornament. After a couple of years, my Nana joined in on the fun. So when Jet and I got married, I came equipped with enough Hallmark Holiday Flair to outfit a 12 ft evergreen tree.

When Charis was born, it was only natural to continue with the tradition. So each year, the girls get all giddy unwrapping their own personal ornaments from when they "were little".

(Note to my incredibly intelligent readers who will want to start this cool tradition: make sure you use a permanent marker to write their initials and year on the bottom. helps to eliminate sibling rivalry over who Frost the Snowman really does belong to)

Well, this year I found the perfect ornament for my little Lani...



Many of you will remember that when she was born, her umbilical cord had two knots. knots that were incapable of being pulled tight because of the thickness and elasticity of the way-healthy cord. And therefore, rendered unable to do damage.

My midwife said she had guardian angels on her shoulders. Because in all reality, outside out heavenly intervention, she should not be with us today.

And it's here that my over-active mind will pause.

Every single day of this holiday season, I have been reminded... as I look into the face of my chubby, happy little girl...that this holiday would be inexplicably different had Lani's "guardian angel" not been assigned my child. had God not saved the life of my little one.

Just as this ornament will remind her, every year she hangs it on her tree, that the Hand of God held and protected her before she was even born.

I got my Christmas gift on September 16th (also my birthday) when the midwife handed me a perfectly healthy baby girl.

The wonderful world of Blog.

The odd thing about putting it all out there, in the from of Blog, is that people read it. Shocking revelation, I know. But tis true. tis true.

And as with anything else that people read...people judge. It just comes with the territory.

I suppose as a blogger, you could pick and choose what side of yourself that you want to display. The funny side. The deeper side. The confused. The motherly. The... on and on the list of human traits continues.

For me, I had determined long ago that I was just going to go with whatever I was feeling at the time. I wasn't going to try and showcase any one part of me...or of our family. I just want to be completely real.

Because years from now, I want my children's children to be able to read this and have a full understanding of who their grandma is/was....and who their mommy was as a little girl.

(Shew. now if that isn't a weird thing to call yourself: 'grandma')

Anyway.

With my just putting it all out there, I know that I run the risk of people making loads of assumptions about me. about my heart. and my life.

Is that why I've taken off the ability to comment? NO. (this is why) I actually love people commenting. Please email away!! GvnJCmyALL@aol.com

But what I don't appreciate is someone reading my blog once. and then making negative generalizations about me. as if they were infallible facts.

That said.

One of my most recent blogs created quite a stir. I received more emails regarding that blog than any other since I removed comments from my blog site.

But in the first email I received... I was accused of being indifferent to scripture, as well as being in sin because I was "wrestling with God" over my feelings....among other things (and yes, I am serious...I have her emails in front of me).

I've debated back and forth over whether to even share some of the harsh comments that I received from that one woman. But have ultimately decided against it. Regardless of how she sees me, I still feel some sort of desire to protect her even though she is a stranger to me...as well as to my blog.

Her emails (there were multiple of them as she and I "conversed" during the course of a day) disturbed me to the extent that I called one friend and emailed two more (this gal and this one) to ask them to read my posts and tell me if I am off, deceived, or just plan wrong. I picked them because
1. I know them to be heartfelt believers. and
2. I knew that they'd tell me the truth and not just what they thought I'd want to hear.

They, in fact, encouraged me beyond belief. (thank you guys) And then...by God's divine timing...the emails started to pour in from, literally, across the globe.

People thanking me for the exact post the one reader pummeled me for. Their emails were filled with how the Spirit used my writing to bring refreshment to their hearts and hope to their current circumstances.

And so my heart was refreshed as well.

...I told my friend that if anything I was glad for the emails from that one stranger. That though I didn't appreciate some of the things she said nor the obvious judgements she held against me and her assumption of my walk with Christ, her accusations only caused me to draw nearer to Him.

And for that I am thankful.

This world of Blog is an odd one. Friendships are created...deep ones...with people you may never meet. People put their heart out there again and again, sharing their life's story with the masses. Women connecting with women...and in some cases, being drawn to the Father heart of God through these connections. in others laughing hysterically together over the daily trials of mothering these little monkeys we like to call children.

I cherish each one of you guys as readers. You encourage me, challenge me, and bring joy to my days.

You remind me that even though this season of my being home with the Littles can feel like a lonely one at times...that there are thousands upon thousands of you out there. experiencing the same thing. making the same sacrifices. and living, essentially, the same life.

this layed down life of Motherhood that some of us have been asked to walk. this blessing of simply being a Woman, regardless of the particular life calling.

Thanks for taking the time to read my random thoughts...to care about the ins and outs of our days...to press together with me, into the Throne room of the Lord.

I will continue to write, not for the masses, but for my children. my own sanity. and for the One to whom my soul longs. I'm just so honored that you've decided to join me in the journey.

I feel pretty oh, so pretty

If there's anything about raising daughters that worries me, it's the thought of what the world may try to do to their self image as they grow into adulthood.

All you have to do is look at magazines and read its articles to get a taste of what's out there. Haven't picked up a magazine recently? Just read this post.

Those are truly the pictures that the author used to describe women who needed to help to "appear thinner." The article still makes me gag.

OR not one for reading? The, turn on the TV. Apparently women are supposed to be fearless and completely devoid of need for men. Until the urge to kiss or other such...*cough cough*... urges come upon them.

Those same fearless women get all weak in the knees. Because then, she needs her man. You know, to fulfill her carnal desire. All the while flaunting an enormous amount of cleavage. Dolly Parton style, of course.

Give me a break.

Yet. this is the world that my girls will be growing up in.

And the thought of sending sweet little ladies-in-training... who, at present, innocently live to twirl around so all the world can marvel at their uniqueness and beauty... into a world who makes it casual sport to dissect women's bodies and harshly criticize it at every angle... Well, it doesn't bring me peace.

BUT... *somewhere angels are singing the Hallelujah chorus*... Yesterday did!

Because something that I've been saying has obviously stuck in the mind of my 6 year old daughter, Charis...

We had to arrive at church early so Charis could prepare for the Christmas play. Last minute instructions. Pep talks. and Stage Make-up were on the Director's To Do List.

It came Charis's turn for the blush and eye shadow. Monica, make-up sponges in hand, positioned herself to paint her face.

"This is going to make you really pretty."

Being that I wasn't there (this was all relayed to Jet after the fact), I can only imagine Charis sitting there for a second and then in all sincerity announcing what Monica told Jet she said:

"My mommy told me that I'm already beautiful. Without make up."

I about cried with joy when Jet told me. Have I ever said that?! Maybe? But being that make-up hasn't become an issue yet, I highly doubt it. But I do remember conversations like this:

Charis: "This dress makes me look pretty."

Me: "No, YOU make that dress that good. You're already pretty."

I cannot explain the feeling I have knowing that conversations like that...one liners that sound like they originated from corny pick up lines in movies... obviously stuck with her.

And impacted her enough to encourage her to speak up and correct a perfectly harmless statement. Just so she could clarify that she didn't need anything else to be attractive. ...that she already embodies it.

*insert a large motherly sigh of relief*

Moments like this show me that all I'm doing...all the small moments that I fear go unnoticed and unheard by their distractable attention span...are worth their weight in gold a rock solid self esteem.

Because sometimes being one of the youngest

...just plain stinks.

Dear Raegan,

In order to save you the time, I am giving you this picture as a reference... when, later in life, your siblings challenge you to prove that you were, indeed, the least favorite among the crew.

For when we had a round of hot chocolate, your sisters got buckets. And you, my dear one, only got got a wee drop.

in something resembling a shot glass.

But for the record, you loved it. and had three "shots" full.

My humble apologies,

Mommy