Lent In My Belly Button

Recently, Jeff and I decided that our kids would give up all games, computer and video for Lent. We decided this for our kids, spouting the usual spiritual application that giving up stuff for Lent is good because we’re looking forward to Easter with Christ’s death and resurrection, and it helps us remember to anticipate this when we give up something really hard.

But, really, I think we were trying to stop the craziness of gaming that had kind of taken over, and this was just a good excuse to do it without having to pull the “I’m the parent, get off the computer” card. Plus, it also made it “spiritual.”

Since Jeff and I don’t have a problem with computer games, we had to come up with stuff to deny ourselves as well. Jeff gave up looking at trivia on his phone and the computer.  He is a trivia fanatic, constantly in search of information and news flashes. He loves the Drudge Report and knows crazy minutia. So this was hard for him.

Personally, I would rather bury my head in the sand than put anything else in my brain. It rattles around enough without throwing completely worthless stuff in there, to boot. So, my Lent give-up was the weather channel. And I’m not talking about the cool weather channel on cable. I’m talking about the ghetto weather channel that you get when you don’t have cable. Regardless, I turn it on all the time to check to see what I should wear and when I can hang laundry outside and just out of curiosity because I have to know, and I can’t just stick my head out the door.

The Lent “rules” say that you can take Sundays off (or so I’m told; I’m sure this was some bit of information that Jeff told me).  So my kids, well, they go a little nuts with the games that day. And Jeff, I’m sure he’s cramming all the information in that he missed over the past week. I, too, take full advantage and try to memorize the temperatures for the upcoming week. But it doesn’t seem to stick, so Julia wrote down the weather for me for last week, including the temperature for each day, complete with drawings of rain clouds and suns. Somehow, I think we’ve all missed the point.

A couple weeks ago, Julia and I went on a girls’ trip, just her and me, for one night at a state park complete with chilly indoor pool. We had so much fun. But I needed to know if I was going to have to drive home in the rain, so I wanted to check the weather. But, it wasn’t Sunday. I told her I was just going to check the weather real quick when Julia said, “I won’t tell anyone.” But then added, “But God will know.”

Geez. I don’t think it was supposed to be like that. Some where along the way, it took on a pharasaical bent. If keeping Lent just means not breaking another rule, then really what’s the point?

So, we’ve kind of let it go. It seemed to have taken on a life of its own and in the process lost its real significance.

Yep, next year they can choose to do their own Lent or not do it. Lesson learned.

Oh, Brother

We recently went out to eat for Jeff’s birthday. We went to one of those all you can eat buffets where we enjoyed our time and ate a whole lot of food. During our trip, Jonah, who is 14, went to use the bathroom. Not realizing that Jonah went to use the bathroom, Jesse, 15, also went to use the bathroom when Jesse saw Jonah’s shoes under the bathroom stall. Jesse told us all back at the table, “I didn’t even have to formulate a plan. I already knew what I was going to do.”

So here was the “already formulated plan” that was in Jesse’s head: Jesse went into the stall next to Jonah and started throwing toilet paper over the top of the stall onto Jonah. Jonah did not realize that Jesse was even in the bathroom and got nervous that some stranger was throwing toilet paper over on him. So Jonah started kicking the tp back under the stall with his shoe.  Jesse did not get the result that he was looking for with the toilet paper (it lacked heaviness), so he wet the tp down using clean toilet water (gross) and then threw it into Jonah’s stall. Still, Jonah did not realize until he came back to the table that the person who caused his bathroom agony was his beloved older brother.

A couple of days later, brotherly love came around again when Jesse took Jonah and Jake’s doorknob off and switched it around, so that the lock was on the outside of the door, making it to where he could lock them in their room from the outside.  Apparently, Jonah and Jake did not like being locked in their own room and started yelling, so Jesse switched the doorknob back around before anyone else was the wiser.  To be honest, his misplaced creativity boggles my mind.

But, apparently, this is how Jesse shows love. And he often goes too far.  He tickles Jeremiah until he can’t breathe and teases Julia until she really can’t handle it anymore and sometimes wrestles Jake to the floor, which is really funny to watch two big kids with long legs and long arms rolling around on the floor laughing.

We just watched the movie Warrior which I really liked. One of the themes was families but more specifically brothers. It was about love and anger, betrayal and forgiveness. I loved how they beat the crap out of each other, only to compassionately walk with each other in the end. The younger brother was finally willing to let go when he heard his older brother say that he loved him, and that was when the  I got tears in my eyes and a really large lump in my throat, like I sometimes do around here.

Jesse recently got his air soft gun out and threatened Jonah and Jake with it. I thought everyone was having a good time. Jeff had the hose out, trying to soak Jesse with it, and I was laughing my head off. Jonah and Jake were way out in the backyard, while Jesse stood near the house shooting his air soft gun in their direction (it can’t shoot that far, and they both wear glasses, so I thought they were okay). They weren’t okay. In fact, they were angry and scared. At some point, Jesse realized that they weren’t okay with his game.  Without saying anything, he walked inside and put away his weapon. Walking away at that moment was Jesse loving his brothers; it was Jesse showing compassion. And that is the way of this brother.

The Best Worst Birthday Ever

Recently my third son (which shall remain nameless) turned 13, which to me is such a big deal age. Entering teenage-hood. Big stuff. But this kid doesn’t like any attention drawn to him ever. He’d just rather blend in with his environment. He doesn’t really like to be hugged or touched and acts like he’s being electrically shocked when he is touched. I hug him anyway and sometimes make him hug me back just because I believe everyone needs physical touch. And we play the game of him being electrocuted by my touch. I’m cool with that.

But, a week before said son’s birthday, he started saying that he didn’t want to have a birthday. Once again, I’m sorry, he’s going to have a birthday. This is just how it is. We celebrate birthdays. They’re important, no matter what age. And it wasn’t like I invited 50 people to come celebrate. We have a very simple birthday with our immediate family only. We have cake and ice cream, sing happy birthday, and open presents. That’s it. No big deal. Really.

So I backed off a little in talking about his birthday and bought a few presents anyway, even though he said he didn’t want presents or cake or ice cream. What kid doesn’t want presents or cake or ice cream? I understand not wanting to have people watch you open your presents or having a short song dedicated to your day, but it only happens once a year, so really, just suck it up.

So “the day” arrives. And it slowly unraveled. Cake and ice cream and singing did not go well. I thought I remained calm and didn’t push, not all that hard anyway. It was kind of like a big joke to me, for a while, thinking that he would eventually give in, act like he was being electrocuted and then open his presents.

His presents sat on the piano bench all day long. Second son could hardly stand it because he is such a party person. He lives to plan parties and can’t understand why someone would choose to not open their presents. So second son tried to entice third son by carrying presents around and putting them in close proximity to him.

It didn’t work. He still didn’t want to open his presents or eat his cake and ice cream that we had all gotten into several hours earlier. I had no idea this child was this stubborn. Or really, that I cared that much.

I finally lost it. Badly. Very, very badly. He had finally gotten to me, and I exploded in anger and unwrapped his presents and showered the wrapping paper all over the floor and put his now-opened presents back on the piano bench. And then, I proceeded to cry my eyes out, because I don’t know how in the world to love this kid, to really, really love him. He had just broken my heart, and I realized how rash and angry and how wrong I had been and how I had made his birthday about me.

He came downstairs and saw his opened presents sitting on the bench. And ran back up the stairs, crying like a wounded animal.

At this point, all I wanted to do was crawl in my bed and go to sleep and forget this day forever.

But somehow, I gathered the courage to go talk to third son. He was crying on his bed with his blanket covering his head, and I managed to blubber out how sorry I was that I opened his presents and how much I really do love him. I felt like he had rejected our attempts to love him, as poor as they were. And both of us just kept crying. And I’m not really sure what happened at that moment. But something broke in me. And whatever it was, that same thing also seemed to break in him.

I hauled his opened presents up to his room, and he pulled them out of the bag that I had stuffed them in and looked at each one of them and said, “Thanks, Mom.” They were all the kinds of things my third son loves.

I just stood there with my heart so gushy with all the sadness and the happiness and the love I didn’t think it was capable of after such a day. I had made such a mess of his 13th birthday, but we’d seemed to have made a break through in our moment of brokenness, making each of us perhaps realize that it wasn’t all about him or all about me. I’m afraid, it may be his most memorable birthday. It will definitely be mine.

A few days later, his grandparents brought over a cake and wanted to take us all out for pizza. And they made such a big deal over third son, I thought that he might crack under all the pressure, but he actually smiled shyly and took it. I wouldn’t say that he enjoyed being the center of attention, but he endured it in a very brave kind of way that if we hadn’t had his hell-ish birthday of confusion and clarity, he might never have withstood it. But he did great, even down to the singing of “Happy Birthday” in the middle of Pizza Hut. Wow.

Driving Miss Crazy

Jesse, my 15 year old, is now driving. He’s pretty good. He knows he’s not when I grab the van door and the armrest at the same time and hold tightly until my knuckles turn white.

This letting go stuff is hard. Really hard.

With Jesse learning how to drive and living in Nashville, where roads are busy most of the time, it feels a little out of control, and it makes me want to hold my breath a little. You either drive on interstates or back roads, and I think some of the back roads are scarier than any highway, especially with someone just learning to drive. It makes me think about all these student drivers on the roads and freak out just a little. And knowing that I have four more kids to go through this driving thing with.

When I was learning to drive, I drove around our little city of Anderson, no big deal (okay, for me looking back it was no big deal, but I’m sure there were times when my dad wanted to hyperventilate, and my mom was never involved in that process, lucky her). Ten minutes pretty much covered where you wanted to go. My dad, in teaching me how to drive, had me drive routinely to the DMV so that I could practice my parallel parking, which, to this day, I never would have passed if he hadn’t figured out that I could line up the middle of our car with a telephone pole across the street. I still don’t parallel park. Mainly because there’s no telephone pole. And for me, parking in general can be a problem. Good thing I like to walk.

My dad never let me drive on the interstate, which was safest for everyone involved. He did, however, let me drive in the Everglades in Florida when we went on vacation down there one summer. I guess he figured the worst that could happen would be for me to hit some kind of wildlife. I didn’t cause any injuries or fatalities, but, I did manage to go the wrong way, which sent us an hour in the wrong direction. Things have not changed much with me. I now have my beloved GPS, so direction doesn’t matter so much.

Jeff and I approach the driving thing a little differently. He doesn’t talk to Jesse at all unless to give some kind of warning, like “brake, brake, Brake, BRAKE.”  And I’m the running commentary, all the while pointing out the mailboxes that he’s getting way too close to as well as the oncoming traffic and telling him not to roll his stop signs (which I consequently did and failed my first driver’s test at the very first stop sign coming out of the DMV) but also telling him to “gun it” because it’s hard to see around some corners (crazy Tennessee back roads), only to tell him to slow down again because I don’t particularly like the combination of steep hills and old vans and speed so much. But I’m also throwing those “When I was learning to drive” stories in there too for comic relief. Jesse tries to listen to the radio while driving with me, which he doesn’t try with Jeff. Jeff says he doesn’t need to be distracted. Which makes me the fun parent.

I kind of like to drive, and it’s been hard for me to give up my driving time for this kid of mine, only to be scared half to death a few times.This doesn’t sound like a good exchange. But this parenting thing, it’s very rarely an equal exchange. I’m going to have another student driver next year and then again the next year after that. I may not ever get to drive or breathe again.

I’m enjoying my family more than ever these days. Some days I really wish I could freeze time, just for the moment. But probably not when Jesse’s behind the wheel. Not yet anyway. Right now, I just have to remember to exhale and not hold onto the door quite so tightly.

Kids, Diapers, and Stand-Out Moments

When you have really little kids, older moms like to say, “Enjoy them while they’re young, because you’re going to blink, and blah, blah, blah,” and I know I smiled sweetly and rolled my eyes, but in my brain I was thinking, “Are you crazy? I would give anything to have my kids grow up faster so I can have ten minutes in the bathroom to myself without someone beating down the door.”

Come to think of it, they still beat on my door while I’m in the bathroom. That really hasn’t changed all that much. But there are definitely some things that have changed; some things that made me giddy and had me jumping up and down.

Here are a of those few stand-out moments for me:

1. A few years back, on a trip I realized there were no more diapers to change. NO ONE WAS IN DIAPERS ANYMORE. I no longer had to try to change a wiggly little kid with a dirty diaper on a van seat, trying to figure out where to put all those used wipes, while trying not to get poop all over the van. And after 11 years of diapers with one year off around year 7, I was ecstatic.

2. But, even though there were no more diapers to change, there was still poop to deal with because there is the butt-wiping that takes place for a good while longer. But the day I woke up and realized I wasn’t wiping anyone else’s behind was a good day, a very good day. It’s the kind of thing that catches you off guard. It just kind of happens, and then you notice you have been freed and the freedom is, I must say, rather crazy good. So much so that you want to start telling everyone you see.

3. A while back, when my in-laws took us out to eat, I noticed I didn’t have to order off the menu for anyone. They all read and can figure out what they want. And not only that,  I’m not cutting stuff up anymore. I noticed Julia picked up her hunk of steak and chowed down. But you know what? She’s happy; I’m happy. She’ll probably eventually learn not to do that.

4. I don’t have to lock cabinets afraid that someone might drink something they’re not supposed to drink or down too many gummy vitamins. I haven’t had to call poison control for some time. That’s always nice.

5. No one has played in the toilet or put things in it that don’t belong, like say, toys or toothbrushes for a good long while. Now, they don’t always flush and since I have four boys, my bathroom is rarely clean and the seat inevitably stays up. But, no toilets have had to be completely taken apart to retrieve toothbrushes.

And, here are some really good things that stand out these days:

1. Talking. We sit around and talk a lot, which I love, since quality time is my thing. We talk about everything. Into the wee hours of the night sometimes. Like last night, my two oldest just didn’t want to go to bed. At 1  o’clock in the morning, they followed Jeff and me into our room, exhausted, but wanting to be around us some more. Very cool.

2. We play games and do puzzles. I have a few kids who really like to play games and connect in that way when connecting is sometimes difficult in other ways.

4. We watch movies that I have loved sharing with my kids, which inevitably evokes more conversation since we have to analyze everything to death.

5. We laugh and joke and have fun. And, yes, sometimes at other people’s expense. For Thanksgiving, we went to see my family. Julia got carsick and threw up. Jeff insisted that her brother Jonah, sitting beside her, hold the trash can while she was vomiting so her hands could be free to hold her hair out of the way. Her brother Jake, sitting in front of her, was holding his ears so he wouldn’t hear her vomiting. And Jesse (biggest brother, sitting as far away from her) and I were laughing, while Jeff continued to drive and insist that Jonah keep holding that trash can. I’m just not sure what Jeremiah was doing because I was laughing too hard at Jake and Jonah to notice. We finally came to a gas station, where we all tumbled out of the car. We all talked and laughed and replayed the whole thing again while Jeff washed the trash can out in nasty, leafy, drainage water. More laughter, of course. And then we all piled back into the van and continued on.  Julia was fine, by the way.

6. We camp. And even though a couple of them aren’t that fond of it, they humor me. And we have a good time. Together. And even though we’re together all the time (due to homeschooling) we’re really together in a tent, out in nature, and it’s great most of the time. Unless you bring one scooter and have four kids who all want to ride that one scooter at the same time, the whole time. Will be camping. Won’t be bringing the scooter.

7. They run around like a bunch of crazy lunatics who are completely out of control. And they’re big; they could knock each other and me down, and it would hurt. A lot. They have no common sense when they get like this, and their hearing becomes impaired (I read this in a magazine somewhere), so I get out of the way and laugh. And say things like, “Watch your brother’s neck” and “Please, don’t drop him on his head.” Even though I know they can’t hear me between my laughing and their lack of sense.

So for any moms out there who still have little ones, they really won’t stay that way long, (blah, blah, blah), hang on and enjoy. And please, by all means, share your stand-out moments.

The Real Super Power

It’s the middle of the night, and I really should be sleeping now.  My lack of sleep will cost me dearly. But right now, I don’t care. The little girl inside me can’t stop jumping up and down because of Jesus. If the almost forty year old woman that houses the little girl attempts to jump and keep up, she might sprain an ankle, so writing is where it now manifests itself. (But, please by all means, continue to picture the little girl jumping and twirling because that’s what I’m really doing in my spirit).

Remembering and sharing…that’s what I’ve been doing the last few days. We have a sort of family reunion/Kuzin Kamp for the kids, and the unique thing about Jeff’s extended family is that many profess to be believers, which is an amazing thing. I realize what  a gift this is when I talk to friends who have very little family who are believers. So we get to share for three days about what God’s been doing in our lives for the last year.

But along with this remembering and sharing, Abba has revealed a couple things to me in the past few days. First, that I like to surround myself with people who are similar to me and have the same faith I do. (that’s why church can be such a crutch for me…I feel important there, and it’s not supposed to be about me; it’s supposed to be about Him) I get my “God talk” there and feel no real need beyond that to share anywhere else . Second, that I have a hard time reaching out to people who are not believers because of my fear of rejection and not wanting to be presumptuous. And the combination of those two things has left me paralyzed.  I don’t want to presume on people’s time, and I can’t face them anyway because of the lies I’ve believed about myself. Sadly, it has left me voiceless to those who need Christ so badly.

 I recently read the fiction book, A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers, which took place in Roman times, but applies a great deal to how we live here and now.

We must remember we are not called upon by God to make society a better place to live. We are not called upon to gain political influence, nor to preserve the Roman [American]way of life. God has called us to a higher mission, that of bringing to all mankind the Good News that our Redeemer has come…” (341)

Honestly, I have done very little of this. I have this Message of freedom, and I see so many around me in bondage, and I’ve failed to attach myself in relationships and tell of this freedom in Christ. However, I don’t look at myself with condemnation or judgment or shame or strive in my own flesh to knock down people’s doors and become the neighborhood menace, because that’s not done in relationship. It’s not about guilt or fear or shame or about doing better. It’s not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength that God gives that allows you to endure the unendurable. (Col. 1) It’s about listening and following Him and where He leads. It’s allowing people to look into our lives and the Spirit revealing Jesus’ power to heal and save.

Thankfully, God looks at me and sees Jesus and His righteousness. I am worthy because He makes me worthy.Which makes my spirit leap inside me (hence the jumping up and down/writing) Which, in turn, makes me want to know Him better. I’ve seen His power in my own life…power to free me from pits that I had no hope of ever getting out of in my own strength, power to love people I had no power to love, power to provide when there was nothing, and I’ve barely scratched the surface.  But when people begin to see His power and His love and not just Jesus talk (although that certainly has its place) but actual living proof of who Jesus is and what He can do in people’s lives, then that not only becomes worth living for but also worth dying for.

God’s Way is not a matter of mere talk; it’s an empowered life. (I Cor. 4:18, MSG)

anything but good?

I cannot imagine what the Jesus followers felt at this point all those years ago…devastated, hopeless, filled with fear.

Their Teacher, the Savior of the world died and left them alone. He promised them life, and He Himself died, and not just died a normal death but a death that only criminals died, a heinous excruciating death.

This man forgave sins and raised people from the dead and opened blind eyes and fed thousands of people, but He couldn’t save Himself from death. How could they trust what He said?

They wasted three years of their lives following this man all over the countryside, listening to a bunch of crazy things He said.  And for what?  This? He was supposed to be mighty and powerful, and the night before His death, He washed their feet and told them to serve others. It didn’t make any sense.

He abandoned them. And what were they supposed to do? Wait to be arrested and killed because of Him?

This man, who called Himself the Son of God gave glimpses of hope to many, only to have that same hope dashed by His untimely death.

To his disciples, Good Friday was anything but good.

But to us, who now celebrate Jesus’ resurrection in Easter, we know Jesus’ brutal death was necessary to take away sin and death…it was necessary for freedom. And Jesus told His disciples these things, but they weren’t yet given the insight in order to be able to see it.

But don’t we act like those same disciples?

Jesus says over and over do not be afraid, and yet we cling to our fear. He says, don’t worry about the things that might happen to us or our kids or our parents or our money or our stuff, and all we are is a big bucket of worry.  We too, fail to see the bigger picture of what the Kingdom is all about.

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.  Matthew 6

For me, Good Friday is a reminder of not only the suffering that took place for me…for all, but a reminder to trust in an Abba who is working out all things for the greater good that I often miss.  Just like the disciples, many times I don’t get what’s going on…not really. But I don’t have to.

Perplexed, but not in despair…not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do.

So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace…The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever. 2 Cor. 4

I want to be like those birds that Jesus talks about in Matthew 6, the ones that don’t sow or reap or gather into barns, not worried about the future…free and unfettered…careless in the care of God.

too old to sled…

With all the snow we got this winter, we went sledding on a hill near our house. The second time we went, it was very cold and the snow had turned icy.

We have two sleds, so it takes a while for all seven of us to get a turn. A couple of my kids went down, and then Jeremiah and I got on our long blue sled and went down together, like we had done the day before.

I knew as soon as we pushed off that I was sitting up too high in the sled.  And, due to the ice,  the sled was going faster than it had the day before. I knew we might be in trouble, but I didn’t have time to ”right” myself.

I usually laugh all the way down the hill, but when we hit the first bump, I quit laughing because I knew the inevitable was about to happen.  We hit the second bump, and Jeremiah and I went flying off the sled. I tried not to land on top of Jeremiah, so I stopped myself and landed on my hand.

I don’t do so well with pain.  I don’t know how in the world I gave birth to five kids, even with drugs. Because, I can stub my toe really badly and feel like I’m going to throw up. So when I landed on my hand, I laid in the snow for a long time and focused on not throwing up.  

Jeremiah immediately jumped up and looked at me and said he wanted to go home. I just nodded at him. Jeff thought I was ok at first and waited for me to bust out in laughter.  He kept calling my name from the top of the hill, but I couldn’t answer because I really thought I might pass out or throw up or something.

So I just laid there in the snow until Jeff came down the hill.  When Jeff reached me, he said he would pull me back to the car in the sled.  But I declined and said I could walk.  I mean, there were people standing at the top of the hill, and I’m not that much of a baby. Geesh.

However, I should have taken him up on his offer because every few steps I would get lightheaded and feel like I was going to throw up all over again, so I would lie back down in the snow, kind of like a slow collapse.  We had 50 steps or more to get to the car.  So it took awhile. Step. Step. Step. Collapse back down in the snow until the lightheadedness and urge to throw up subsided. Step. Step. Step. Lie down in the snow.

We eventually got back to the car and got home. I couldn’t move my hand, and my wrist looked broken or at least out of place. I was all pale and lying gingerly on the couch, moaning in pain.

So Jeff took me to the emergency room to have a few x-rays, to find out not only was it not broken, but that there was nothing they could even do even if it was.  But that’s a whole other thing about our broken health care system and the absurb amount of money that they now want for doing next to nothing. (note to self: never go near an ER ever again.)

My wrist and hand are somewhat better now (it’s been 3 months), but I’m thinking I might have to forego sledding in the future if I want my body to remain intact for the long haul.

Actually, the RN at the hospital said I couldn’t sled anymore. I didn’t bother to clarify with her…Did she mean just the rest of this winter or forever?

I’ve always been spastic and prone to injury, so it’s no surprise that I would hurt myself, and I inherited my dad’s pain tolerance, not my mother’s. Although I don’t think my dad feels like throwing everytime he hurts himself.

Unfortunately, one of the people who witnessed my whole sledding incident told my neighbor about it the next day when they were out on the hill.

He described it to my neighbor something like this, This girl and her kid went sledding down the hill, and they hit a bump and legs went flying in the air, and they went sprawling across the snow. The kid got up, but she just kept lying in the snow. Her husband called her name several times, and she didn’t answer. So he went down to see if she was ok. He helped her up, but then a few minutes later, she fell back down in the snow.  After every very few steps, she would slump back down and lay with her face in the snow.  It looked really bad.

Which you’d think from how I was acting, it was really bad.  But nope, I just hurt my hand.

If anyone ever tries to hurt or torture me (too much Criminal Minds), that person will definitely have some surprises coming his way…

Living on a Prayer (the dark side)

I woke up several hours ago (that’s what I get for going to bed at 9:00), thinking and worrying about things I have no control over.

Some days, I just want to throw in the towel…it’s just too hard…too difficult to walk the path He’s called me to. I don’t want to live by prayer and faith. I want things to come easy. I don’t want everything to be a struggle all the time.

But instead of going to the One who can help me shed my worries and my fears, I try to procure my own peace by escaping.

The result?

It’s not pretty. And there’s no peace to be had. Just more uncertainty and yuck.

As I sit here with tears pouring down my face, I begin to cry out to my Abba. For He alone is the One I can run to.

And He draws my attention to the small blessings He’s given me in the last few days.

• Red tulips (I saw three at the library, and I was mesmerized,  and it was like Abba said, “You like that? Just wait till you see the dozens at the soccer field.”)
• Watching 2 of my boys playing soccer on the same team with their dad coaching
• Crazy little kids that laugh loud and hard
• Kids playing outside all day long with the neighbor kids
• The date I will have with Jeff tomorrow (well, technically today)
• Sunshine all throughout a day when it was supposed to be rainy and cloudy
• Laundry blowing crazily in the wind
• Yellow air soft BB’s that you can find in the nooks and crannies all over my house
• Songs that make me cry
• Watching Julia as she sword fights with our neighbor, because she’s his “apprentice”
• Kids that go barefoot, now till Thanksgiving (and that’s probably an under-exaggeration)
• Our small family garden that now has potatoes planted, given to us by our neighbors
• Warmer days ahead
• A friend understanding what we’re called to do and lending an encouraging word and help

Many, many more blessings…too many to count.

My ”stuff” isn’t fixed. It’s still there. But somehow it seems smaller, less consuming than it did before.

Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down {His peace}. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. (Philippians 4)

fully present

Right now, I’m in the middle of learning to be fully present. Which is good, since I stink at multi-tasking anyway. I’m not the mom that can do ten things at once, which is unfortunate since I have 5 kids.

I am the mom who turns the stove top on to make an egg and then disappears into the living room to check the weather. I become engrossed in the weather and by then my egg and the stove have become a memory of the past. Being engrossed no more than a few seconds, I get on the computer to check my email, but it never ends at checking email.  I start writing a blog post.

Only then, when my kids start complaining about the horrible smell and the smoke, do I realize that I turned on the stove many minutes before, completely burning the bottom of my pan and almost setting my kitchen on fire. I think that this type of behavior might be labelled as multi-tasking ADD.

I was struck the other day as I stood washing  dishes that I need to be fully present at whatever I am doing, whether it is washing dishes or hanging laundry or listening to kids who have more words than I do. To be present and not mentally go on to the next task that needs to be completed. To just enjoy the one at hand.

When I think of everything that needs to be done for the day, it makes me grumpy and overwhelmed.  And I miss out on the blessings of the task I’m in the middle of when I jump ahead to the things in my head that I may never accomplish anyway.

But this is more difficult than I imagined…this task of being fully present.

When my older boys were little, I was physically present but not emotionally present. I was too busy looking for what I thought would satisfy my hungry heart. So my husband and children got the leftovers, and there wasn’t much left over. But, thankfully, Abba showed me grace and is even now redeeming those wasted years.

I say I want to be fully present, but I can still zone out on God and my family by the many distractions I have around me. I too often find myself trying to find life from a computer screen or trying to live vicariously through someone else’s life…trying to escape who God has called me to be and the tasks He’s already laid out for me to do.

But even in confessing that this is my struggle, I find He has given me victory for this moment. And that’s all I can ask for.

…let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus… (Hebrews 12)

 

She Speaks Conference is about women connecting the hearts of women to the heart of our Father God and that your heart is to serve Him and His daughters, as He leads. A scholarship to the conference will be awarded here.