tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3914270465389963562024-03-13T14:55:30.870-07:00Life is a Journeylearning, growing, parenting, crying, laughing, struggling, hoping, praying, believing, lovinghappymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.comBlogger172125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-19366884785565786962014-06-06T14:55:00.001-07:002014-06-06T14:57:53.618-07:00Messy Motherhood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My kids are awesome. I mean, I <i>realllllly</i> like them.<br />
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I like my kids when we jump on the trampoline together, all bounces and giggles, hair flying every which way with static, clothing rumpled and mussed-up with leaves and twigs.<br />
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I really like it when people are blown away by my oldest boy playing
music on the piano. In that moment, I'm utterly proud, and can't
imagine anything better than being a mother to this kid.<br />
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I like it when I watch my older daughter snuggle my friend's one-year-old - comforting him and connecting with him in a uniquely heart-felt way.<br />
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I like when my 6 year old randomly looks up at me with big, innocent, blue eyes and says "Mommy, you're pretty!" in his hushed, raspy little voice.<br />
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I like watching my kids climb trees, do gymnastics, talk to our elderly neighbors, draw pictures, pray cute little prayers, sing songs, read to each other, and be imaginative, creative little people. <br />
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Those are the times when my heart bursts with gratitude, and I feel<br />
<b>"This is what parenting is supposed to be"</b> and I am content with my role as <i>Mommy</i>.<br />
<br />
But sometimes I don't like them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSoKWLUR6WADLi9yX3pXWgG62gsT8CCeBF0LfmPlWZ4TOibelCjKRXjW46IZASccIXHR3uLLURrVydcAD_x6p3tTEwwnTiRAt4AJB0Y-y1B3H2ta8E3yxRRGjI34_ePOK4jHLxBiFTeg/s1600/223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSoKWLUR6WADLi9yX3pXWgG62gsT8CCeBF0LfmPlWZ4TOibelCjKRXjW46IZASccIXHR3uLLURrVydcAD_x6p3tTEwwnTiRAt4AJB0Y-y1B3H2ta8E3yxRRGjI34_ePOK4jHLxBiFTeg/s1600/223.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peanut butter, meet the Tablet</td></tr>
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For example: when they fight, complain, make messes, fight, whine, argue, rub peanut butter all over the tablet, disobey, fight, run away when I'm calling them, break my favorite earrings, spill crumbs everywhere, push each other, spill juice all over the floor, act obnoixiously in front of our friends, and whine the whole time we try to put them to bed at night.<br />
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Then I begin to wonder and question:<br />
"Why am I doing this!?" and I think<br />
"I must be doing this all wrong since they act like this A LOT!"<b><i> </i></b><br />
<br />
<b><i>Sigh...</i></b><br />
<br />
I know mistakes are normal. I know that<b> perfect children are abnormal.</b><br />
<br />
So I'm guessing that<i><b> feeling like a mess as a mom must be normal, too. </b></i><br />
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The turning point for me was a few days ago, when my 4 year old yelled at me: "You're a bad mommy!"<br />
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Although I knew that this was the wailing, emotional, unrealistic assesment of an overtired child, it still made me a little bit sad. Especially after having a day filled with frustrating moments with my kids.<br />
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Yet, this time, instead of feeling frustrated and angry - instead of thinking "I just don't enjoy this parenting thing!", I actually felt love in my heart. It was strange, really. It should have been one of those "throw in the towel" moments where I calmly shut his door, walked away and then screamed into my pillow. But instead of feeling like I was dealt a bad hand of cards, and my kid was just unlikeable - in that moment, what welled up within my heart was LOVE.<br />
<br />
I realized that no matter what mistakes happened or will happen in the future, I was made to love this child. It's foolish to think that LOVING means <i><b>always liking</b></i>. Certainly the goal of a loving relationship is compassion, kindness, and loads of patience. But it doesn't mean that things are going to work perfectly. It doesn't mean that you will always say or do the right thing as a parent. It most certainly doesn't mean that you will always FEEL the "right" way.<br />
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More important than liking my kids all the time, is loving them - messes and all. I can love them even when they say childish things to me. I know, deep down, that I love them even though they make messes, cost me lots of money, and take up most of my waking hours.<br />
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Love covers a multitude of sins.<br />
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I realized that even if I'm not feeling it, even if I don't have warm fuzzies towards my kids due to their immature, age-appropriate behavior, it doesn't make me a bad mom or mean that I shouldn't have chosen this as my profession, or that I'm not qualified to raise them. <br />
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Once in a while, when my husband is dealing with one of our older children's outbursts, in the midst of their emotional diarrhea spewing out towards him, he'll just pause for a moment, smile, and say "I love you!" I really admire this about him. It's as though he can cut to what really matters - and that this moment, this lapse of restraint and unlikeable behavior will pass.<br />
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What remains even if the house is in shambles and we didn't have a perfect day is relationship,<br />
family,<br />
and love.</div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-90446608764121993932014-05-24T09:29:00.000-07:002014-05-24T09:31:17.360-07:00How To Hear<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad, making a lot of noise with a jack hammer!</td></tr>
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I have hearing loss.<br />
It seems to have increased after the birth of each of my six lovely, boisterous children.<br />
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Okay, if I'm really being honest, I don't think I've actually lost any hearing ability. Truth be told, I've heightened my selective hearing ability after each child was born.<br />
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For example, one of my older kids could yell to me with intense panic: "Mom!! Ezra's eating sugar!!!" and I don't think I'd even flinch. I'd keep folding laundry or picking pencil crayons up off the floor or whatever it was that I was doing... with little or no concern. It's as if I didn't even hear their hysterical accusation.<br />
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It's hardly different from the way I tune out my children's incessant tattling - or their whining complaints against each other - or the proclamation that Ezra (yes, he's quite the four-year-old) is peeing in the yard or parking lot or off the church balcony... again!<br />
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Maybe mothers gain this ability as a tool of preservation. Because if we really did respond to every little gasp, whine, cry or grievance - we would literally go insane! <br />
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Now here's the problem. I worry that an ability to be selective in my hearing may actually hinder my ability to listen to the things that really matter. Just like perspective matters in how you view the world - whether you can take the time to see beauty in everyday situations - I believe that there is just as much value in learning <i><b>how to hear</b></i>. (You can read more about <a href="http://exploitsofmommyhood.blogspot.ca/2014/05/how-to-see.html" target="_blank">How to See</a> in a blog post I wrote a couple weeks ago.)<br />
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Sometime one of my little guys will peep up with a random "I love you, Mommy!" and I might be in the middle of something - even in the middle of a frustrating moment with another child, but something in me knows that I ought to respond. So it's often a quick "I love you, too!" right back at him, and sometimes I spend a little more time or put a bit more effort into my response - but I know that I'm keeping the door of connection open to his little heart - and it REALLY matters.<br />
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Other times, I hear the typical: "Mom!!! Look at this!!!" And it could be that my 6 year old is balancing a rock on his head - or maybe my 4 year old drew a picture that looks like a cross between a cow, a house and a turtle - but I will gasp and say "Wow! That's great!" Because I'm speaking to his heart, his treasure, and he's vulnerable about my opinion and whether the things that are important to him matter to me.<br />
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Here's what I've noticed. When I'm too busy, too frazzled or even when I'm just being too complacent - I don't hear my kids the way that I should. Even worse, when I'm consumed by the interactions of social media - the voices that talk constantly, but say little that really matters in life - when I'm plugged up by all of that noise pollution... I don't hear.<br />
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Hearing can only come by intentionality. Hearing requires focus, and purposefulness. Because I'm not talking about noise that registers decibles in your brain - I'm talking about understanding and connection. I need to really HEAR my kids. I need to HEAR my husband and care about what's happened in his workday - even though I feel like I've survived a dozen earthquakes and I've had to navigate the stormy waters of several pre-teens and my teenager clashing and being "emotional".<br />
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It's hard to hear. It's hardest if you feel like no one really listens to you - and believe me, even when I yell and I'm frustrated, it seems like my kids still aren't listening! But even in the best of circumstances, listening - really hearing those around you - is an art. It is intentional and requires engagement with the people (even the little kids) around you.<br />
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Here's a thought for those who have trouble really <b><i>hearing</i></b> those around them.<br />
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Learn how to be STILL.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-N8P58AfeUY0CSj1Qt6KKS8froXy9Q-GwyHOxfW8yYoFa1V3uTtSvwHK3V9Pm0x7BSiwHww5TfhmmJwkRuW-9N3omGPEC_IX2-AP2ME76UbOqZbaYd50zKBX3ptXdrHWR3mMh48wNf0k/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-N8P58AfeUY0CSj1Qt6KKS8froXy9Q-GwyHOxfW8yYoFa1V3uTtSvwHK3V9Pm0x7BSiwHww5TfhmmJwkRuW-9N3omGPEC_IX2-AP2ME76UbOqZbaYd50zKBX3ptXdrHWR3mMh48wNf0k/s1600/photo+4.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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It feels like, in this day and age, we have so little opportunity for true quiet. My iPhone follows me everywhere with bleeps, bloops and alerts. I can even watch movies in the bathroom! (Not saying that I do that...) While I don't want this to be just another blog about how you should flee from the evils of technology, I still feel that it is worth mentioning. Turn off your freakin' phone!!!! I guarantee, you will not learn to be quiet if your iPhone is beside you, alerting you to the newest angry-cat clip that your friend posted or if it's tempting you to play the next level of Zombie Candy Crush Super Saga (or whatever those annoying games may be). <br />
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So learning<b><i> how to hear</i></b> starts with practice in the right environment. <i><b>When you learn to be still, you have a chance to find true rest for your soul.</b></i> In stillness, we can recharge with prayer, meditation or simply quiet communion with God.<br />
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Next, hearing those around you, and listening for the things that matter requires insight and intentionality. Sometimes you have to look for the unspoken signs in order to hear the whispers of a heart that is trying to be conveyed.<br />
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I'll end with this... A few nights ago, when most of of kids were already in bed, my hubby and I were hanging out in our room with the door open, chatting on our bed. One of my older kids (who shall remain nameless), came and stood in our doorway. They didn't ask for anything and it wasn't their bedtime yet, so we didn't shoo them away. That's when I got it - a sense that comes from learning to listen. I realized that this child was seeking connection - that they needed affirmation and closeness with us. So I initiated a conversation that allowed us to talk about some of the deeper, more important things in life. Afterwords, I marveled at the gift of intimate communication that I could have missed out on if I hadn't taken the time to hear.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“There's a lot of difference between listening and hearing.”
-G. K. Chesterton</blockquote>
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<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.”
-Ernest Hemingway</blockquote>
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happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-90847421338670561582014-05-11T15:10:00.000-07:002014-05-11T15:10:42.661-07:00Being Okay on Mother's Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's here! </div>
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The radio, Twitter, Facebook and my email inbox are blasting me with messages about one of the most anticipated events of the year - Mother's Day. It's a day of extremely high expectations - and if dads and kids and even the pastor preaching a sermon at church don't deliver - moms will be disappointed and feel under-appreciated. <br />
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On a positive note, I've seen many beautiful tributes filling up the Facebook newsfeed and pictures of moms of every kind - young moms with babies, mothers with grown sons and scanned old photographs of mothers from decades ago.<br />
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Some of us have fond memories of our mothers, and for some Mother's Day is etched with sorrow and grief. <br />
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Some mothers delightfully look forward to a day of pampering, adoration and acknowledgement, and others feel guilt, anxiety, disappointment and emptiness.<br />
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I've been a Mom for nearly 15 years now. I have six kids. I guess you could say that I'm kind of qualified to speak about being a mom.<br />
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Being a mom is nothing like I imagined. Being a mom has a lot more mundane than I expected; scattered with high times and low times.<br />
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I thought when my first baby was placed in my arms, that I'd be magically equipped with all the patience, wisdom and virtue that I needed to deal with a willful, uncooperative yet beautiful little person. I thought I'd be full to the brim with ooey gooey mushy infatuation that would power me through every long, sleepless night. I was supposed to be such a good mother that even when my kids got older, we would be harmonious and happy - instead, I often feel challenged and I doubt myself.<br />
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I never thought I'd actually get to the end of myself and secretly lament: "I wish I wasn't doing this. What was I thinking?" But, sometimes those feelings come. So after a good cry, some chocolate, time on my knees and maybe a hug from someone who is not utterly dependent upon me for EVERY. LITTLE. THING., I find some new inner strength, and I plunge back into my role with perseverance.<br />
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So as this Mother's Day approached, I have been mindful of the fears and trials and the lessons I've learned (and I am still learning) as I continue my life-long career as a mother. I hope I'm not the only one who approaches Mother's Day with some hesitation.<br />
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Mother's Day might be all about gratitude and adoration - but I need so much more than a "Thank You" card and breakfast in bed. (A day in the mountains, followed by a candle-light dinner with steak and wine might be sufficient, though!)<br />
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So here it is - the simple and perhaps obvious fact that reassures me as a mother:<br />
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<b>Kids are resilient.</b> Even when you mess up, even when life is crazy and you can't provide the "perfect" environment, kids are remarkably capable of defying the odds and coming out on top. I have a friend who told me a story about her childhood. She said that at one point, her family went camping for around 3 months - imagine that! They spent the entire summer cooking, eating, playing and living outdoors! She said that as a child, she thought it was awesome. However, as an adult, reflecting upon this memory, she realized that something was a little weird about her family camping for such a long time. She asked her parents and they told her that it was because they were literally homeless - Dad had lost his job, and they had nowhere else to go - so they just camped for a while until they could get back on their feet.<br />
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I think we put an awful lot of pressure on ourselves to be perfect moms, with perfect homes, and we try to juggle so many things, attempting to be the glue that holds it all together and keeps our children's world defect-free. The truth is - our kids will be ok. They don't need everything to be utopian all the time.<br />
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So those blurry months when I had morning sickness and felt like I barely had enough energy to change diapers - let alone cook a somewhat wholesome meal for my other kids and the TV pretty much babysat them? It's ok... it all turned out.<br />
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And the months of transition that we've experienced with my husband changing jobs (twice) and moving from city to city and house to house - so that homeschooling became incredibly inconsistent and only happened if I could actually find our books...? I think we're going to recover from that too. Thank God kids are resilient.<br />
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Sometimes life throws us a curve ball, and sometimes we just screw up as a mom. I don't need to stop making mistakes - I just can't get stuck. <i>Our kids need us to forgive ourselves, and move on.</i> I think God has a special grace for me as a mom, because DESPITE my many failings, my kids keep on loving me. <br />
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Unfortunately, Mother's Day can be a time that highlights inadequacy for some of us. It's easy to think of all the accomplishments of a mother and praise her for them, but it's equally easy for those accomplishments to feel like weighty expectations, heavy with immense responsibility.<br />
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I'm not bashing the celebration of Mothers - I'm not bashing Mother's Day cards and Mother's Day sermons - BUT... I think a lot of moms need reassurance more than anything. Because you can celebrate us today - even give us the day off, but we have to go right back to reality tomorrow. We need to know that we're doing ok. We need you to know that we don't feel perfect and motherhood is really hard and sometimes we don't even feel like doing it anymore - but it's not exactly the kind of job where you can hand in a resignation (believe me, I could try, but the kids would wail and scream and eventually bang down my bedroom door.)<br />
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So I encourage you today. If you are an imperfect mom and you worry about being enough, doing enough or even surviving motherhood - you're gonna be ok. Your kids are going to be okay. The good news is that you don't have to be a super-mom to raise good kids. Kids are resilient and forgiving. I remind myself this daily. <br />
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Happy <i>Encouraging</i> Mother's Day! <br />
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<i><b>How to encourage a mom on Mother's Day:</b></i><br />
<i><b>To put it simply - I think that on Mother's Day, Moms need mothering.
We need to be taken care of, believed in, reassured and... okay...
maybe a little bit of chocolate or flowers or a massage would help, too.</b></i></div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-29238963929335242942014-05-07T19:04:00.000-07:002014-05-07T19:05:17.058-07:00How To See<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was a gloriously warm, summer-like day.</div>
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I was happy.</div>
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I wasn't yelling (much) and our little exploration had turned into a winner in that we had spotted turtles in the wetland - something we'd never seen on previous nature walks at that particular location. </div>
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The kids were excited, contented, playing, and most of all, they weren't bickering, complaining or fighting with one another.</div>
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It was bliss.</div>
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Even the antics of this boy - my wild-child, as I call him, couldn't disrupt the beauty of our meditative outdoor enjoyment. So when his drawing paper landed amidst Water Striders and Whirlygig Beetles in the glassy, aquamarine water, I calmly scooped them up with little more than a sigh, and laid the papers to dry on the dock in the unusually hot May sun. It wasn't even breezy (which is unusual for our city), so in a matter of minutes the accidental near-drowning of drawing papers was forgotten.<br />
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I wonder: <i>Why can't every day be like this?</i><br />
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I told my husband later that night, as we stood in the kitchen wiping up crumbs and putting away pots and pans, "See.... the sun makes me so happy! I'm made to be in warm places!"<br />
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And it's true. I gain an unusual contentment from long, summer days. Winter is my hibernation - I eat too much, feel sluggish, want to sleep more and often find it difficult to face day after day of cold weather that coops us up indoors. I can relate to the dormancy of a deciduous tree - barren, no life apparent, waiting for the kiss of the sun and warm weather to "spring" forth with green buds; welcoming the chorus of songbirds and awakened with the promise of a fruitful summer.<br />
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Yet, as I looked at my pictures and strained to see the beautiful moments that I felt so strongly, I was surprised that I was scrolling through mediocre snapshots, not stunning works of art. My heart remembers the warmth, happiness and joy - but the images captured with my iPhone don't come close to expressing the true beauty we indulged upon. But my heart is still happy.<br />
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<i><b>How much more so is my life a snapshot in time?</b></i></div>
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Can I look for the beauty - glorious moments where life and love pop up, unexpectedly - even when skies are gray?<br />
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If only I could remember and abhor my proclivity to be too busy, too sharp, too narrow-minded...<br />
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Often, it's when I'm finally quiet, breathing slowly, eyes closed and unsuccessfully attempting to sleep that <i><b>I finally remember</b></i><br />
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Each day is filled with opportunities for wonder<br />
if I could slow myself enough to notice.<br />
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My children are marvelous creatures who are always learning, growing and changing and I can hurry them along, or try to see life through their eyes by taking time to really listen.</blockquote>
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In the pauses; the deceleration of our minds and hearts, we see more clearly and begin to hear the melody of life's symphony.<br />
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When we train our eyes to look for the beautiful, we find that as Dostoyevski said:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<h3 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">"Beauty will save the world."</span></span><br /> </h3>
</blockquote>
Because it's the ugliness of my wrong intentions, my false expectations and misperceptions that are ruining me. I don't see beauty because my eyes are drawn far too quickly to the soiled, the broken, the misleading. And it wears me down.<br />
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I'm not naturally a "glass half-full" sort of person. But there are moments in time, flashes of inspiration and divine unfolding when the dust and smog of the pains and cares of this world peel away and I truly see, and breathe, and absorb what I believe this world was meant to be.<br />
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There are moments in life when you can't deny the God-tinged, unearthly and unspoiled illumination. Like when my last baby was born and I held him - still blueish with waxy, vernix-smeared skin and then his eyes opened on this side of earth for the first time, and his little lungs sucked in his fist breaths, and I beheld life: freshly kissed by heaven.<br />
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When we see beauty, we see the Divine. <br />
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"For since the <span class="Highlight">creation</span> of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen" -Romans 1:20</blockquote>
Who doesn't gawk with awe at the mighty Rocky Mountains? Who doesn't gasp at the awesome roar of thunder? Something within us all is set to respond to the magnificence of earth.<br />
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My aim, then, is to peer at the world in anticipation.<br />
To watch, to wait, and then to <b><i>wonder</i></b>. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ST1emNaSmDKGf2UH6Z8ANbk1tJFH0jWbFVlInDM_jak5Wsk9YoP-vINBlGFeWHPwUG1RPGW5Zhxm4JgYM4JH_9b8yBvwIj92MbzKJB734zK3FG4SzQYPgk54bApFZriSEacOIRElut4/s1600/photo%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ST1emNaSmDKGf2UH6Z8ANbk1tJFH0jWbFVlInDM_jak5Wsk9YoP-vINBlGFeWHPwUG1RPGW5Zhxm4JgYM4JH_9b8yBvwIj92MbzKJB734zK3FG4SzQYPgk54bApFZriSEacOIRElut4/s1600/photo%25283%2529.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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"Then sings my soul, my God, how great thou art."</div>
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<span class="st">Carl Gustav Boberg (1859–1940)</span></div>
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happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-71460409610552007142013-12-19T21:10:00.000-07:002013-12-19T21:10:17.161-07:00When Basmati Won't Suffice<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"I'm hungry"<br />
"Mo-o-om! Can I have something to eat?"<br />
"Can we have a snack?"<br />
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I hear this about 500 times a day... or so it seems.<br />
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My kids are ALWAYS hungry... even if it's only 5 minutes after lunch.<br />
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Something I realized, is that their request for food is a sign of a home where food is available and abundant. And I'm thankful that we live in a way that my kids do not have to go hungry - where we have enough to provide regular meals (and snacks) for them. I imagine that kids who live in a place where there is not enough food would learn to stop asking, because they would continually be turned down and disappointed by lack. <br />
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However, we've had our ups and downs as a family. And right now happens to be a "down". I'm not saying that we're going hungry, but we are trying to be frugal and budget conscious and also making sure we aren't wasting food (which translates to wasting money). That also means trying to use food we already have in our cupboards, instead of automatically running to the store for our favorite items.<br />
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So this evening, when I was preparing the ingredients for dinner, I noticed that we were almost out of our favorite Thai rice that we use in a lot of the meals we cook on a regular basis. "No problem," I thought, "I'll just use a different kind of rice." Which really wasn't a big deal because there were 3 other kinds of rice in our cupboard: Basmati, sweet rice and brown rice. I figured that the Basmati would be the most appealing to my kids, so I cooked up a pot to serve along with the small portion of Thai rice.<br />
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Then it happened.<br />
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"Mom! What is wrong with this rice?" A child burst out, referring to the Basmati rice on their plate.<br />
<br />
"It's Basmati rice." I replied. "We ran out of Thai rice, so I had to use something else. And actually, Basmati is a really nice type of rice AND I put butter in it, so I don't know why you are complaining!" As you might gather, at this point I was feeling irritated!<br />
<br />
"Butter!?!?" The child whined and then showed a face of extreme disgust.<br />
<br />
"Okay" I responded not so calmly, "Then you may go to your room for supper if you are not grateful for the food we have to eat!" Except, since we are currently staying in a two bedroom basement suite (it's complicated) and this child doesn't have their own room, they just went to sit on their bed and sulk.<br />
<br />
I had to shake my head at the preposterous nature of this moment. Like, really? Did my child just turn their nose up and reject a perfectly nutritious and delicious dinner because they were served the WRONG KIND OF RICE?!?!<br />
<br />
We ended up having a little talk when I finished my dinner, although (with the age and stage of this child) it felt more like a lecture - and I tried to enlighten this child on how blessed our family actually is. Yes, we don't have a ton of money right now, and we didn't buy more Thai rice - but we have plenty of food in our fridge and cupboards and we are NOT going hungry! I referred to my husband's growing up years, where he not so fondly remembers times of eating lots of eggs and zucchini because their family could get it for free to supplement their meager stock of groceries in a home with four growing kids. <br />
<br />
When I come to the heart of this situation, I realize that my desire is to see my kids exhibit grattitude - not just when things are good, but even in the midst of trials (like having the wrong kind of rice, or being served something you don't like at a friend's house).<br />
<br />
My grumpy side would like to teach my kids a lesson: Maybe I could make them eat plain food for a while - like Kraft dinner and frozen pizzas and stuff that comes out a can - and then, when we finally have something homemade and delicious, they will be so thankful and grateful that I won't even have to prompt them! However, I don't think I could bear to punish my kids that way - especially when they have two culinarily creative parents.<br />
<br />
So I'm looking for a solution. I'm tired of reminding them to say "thank you" all the time and I don't want to have to prod them to be grateful for the food that others make for them (even when they don't like it very much).<br />
<br />
I'm looking for gratefulness to be a heart attitude, not a sign of a good upbringing or good manners. True gratitude comes from the heart; I don't want my kids to perform - or worse yet, roll their eyes and speak insincerely.<br />
<br />
Maybe the place where it all starts is with me? Perhaps I should sincerely investigate my heart attitude, not just my actions? Sure, I act grateful when I'm invited out and someone makes me dinner (even if I don't like it). I know my manners... I've been raised properly. (Thanks, Ma!)<br />
<br />
But I think it goes so much further than the "thank you" at dinnertime or when someone holds open the door for you at a store. Gratitude comes from a lifestyle of constant mindfulness that I am am getting far better than I deserve. Gratitude comes from recognition that life is a gift. Gratitude also acknowledges the value of those around you - their <b><i>preciousness</i></b> as a "fearfully and wonderfully made" human, to quote Psalm 139.<br />
<br />
I wonder if I am showing true, heartfelt gratitude both around my children as well as towards my children? Maybe I think that I shouldn't have to thank them for doing their chores, cleaning up after themselves - or even for showing me affection. But if I begin to create an atmosphere that values and encourages these actions, I believe that not only will these actions become more commonplace, but they will also begin to adopt my posture of gratitude. <br />
<br />
If I am quick to point out the positive of my children's behavior, then that behavior will be what is honored and upheld as desirable. But I'm not thinking about how this will merely make life easier for me - I'm not trying to use a formula to induce better behavior in my children. I have a feeling that this will actually result in my heart being more content and joyous. And that sounds like a really good thing.<br />
<br />
I don't expect things to change overnight. I know that my kids are adaptable and as I pursue gratefulness, it sure to rub off on them. But for me, it's a journey...<br />
<br />
I know that I'm still going to have days where someone doesn't like dinner and then refuses to eat. And in that situation, I'll do my best to remind them of our blessings and then send them to their room to find their "happy, grateful attitude".<br />
<br />
And my kids will most certainly continue to whine incessantly at me "Mo-o-o-mmmm, I'm hungry!"<br />
<br />
Thankfully, I still have one last trick up my sleeve - it's the kind of answer that annoying parents like me give to their kids in this situation:<br />
<br />
"You're not hungry, you're bored!" <br />
<br />
(Feel free to use that one, it's a freebie!)<br />
<br /></div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-62316847419906084832013-12-12T12:21:00.000-07:002013-12-12T12:22:26.850-07:00Redeeming Christmas (and recognizing the grinch inside me)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><b>Joy!</b></i></h2>
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I've been a bit of Grinch.<br />
<br />
In my effort to avoid this culture's tendency towards commercialism in a season that is supposed to be about hope, joy, anticipation and giving, I've become a miser and festivity-extinguisher.<br />
<br />
Because, if I'm being entirely honest, the Christmas season has the ability to highlight my insufficiencies as a mother - lack of time, lack of patience, lack of joy and one of the big ones - lack of CASH!<br />
<br />
I found myself annoyed a little more each year when the Christmas carols would begin to play on the radio. To further amplify this attitude, we had the opportunity to get to know our family better and shared our home with my husband's younger brother, wife and kids for a little over a year. The thing about my little brother-in-law is that he is the KING of Christmas music. Apparently, the Christmas season begins the day after Halloween... when everyone is hung-over from a sugar over-dose. So when I had an opportunity to smile and enjoy his child-like delight in one of the most important events on the Christian calendar of events, instead I was grouchy and informed him sternly "In MY house, Christmas doesn't start until December!" So the Christmas DJ was dethroned for the rest of the month... at least when I was at home.<br />
<br />
Probably my biggest argument for putting a damper on Christmas is that I hate the commercialism of it! I hate how worked up kids get in their desire to GET more and more stuff! Even if I had tons of money, I still don't want to engage in the chaotic, hectic shopping marathon required to appease the greediness of the green-eyed monsters (...I mean munchkins) who just want more and more! My thought was that if Christmas has become about anticipating what amazing present you'll get this year, then I'll work in the opposite spirit and minimize the emphasis of gift-giving altogether! <br />
<br />
At church on Sunday, one of the pastors and his wife shared about the season of
Advent and how we can bring into our homes the true meaning of
Christmas. I found myself totally nodding my head in agreement with him
as he mentioned how he was the "Christmas Grinch" of the family, and
had to undergo a change of heart over the past couple years in order to
really experience the hope and joy that the Advent season can bring. So
I really owe this post to the honesty and openness with which they
shared. <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/ca/podcast/river-of-life-church/id397451794" target="_blank">(Listen here, it's the Advent message dated 12/10/13)</a><br />
<br />
This Christmas, my family is in a unique situation. We're in-between moving. Our house is in-between being sold and having the new owners taking possession. We have a temporary tiny little basement suite in the city we're moving back to. (I think we have about 100 square feet per person in our family!) It's complicated....<br />
<br />
At any rate, despite our confining, challenging environment I have hope and expectancy that this will possibly be our best family Christmas ever!<br />
<br />
What makes things so different for me this year?<br />
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<br />
Instead of focusing on all that is wrong with Christmas, I'm determined to focus on what is RIGHT about it. The season of Advent, is about hope, expectation and promise. I long to bring a sense of worship and wonder to my home as we anticipate a time of feasting and celebrating Jesus, incarnate, born to redeem all mankind.<br />
<br />
However, just because I'm trying to focus on the spiritual and more meaningful message of Christmas, it doesn't mean that I should be a religious miser and put a damper on the festiveness of the season. That's where I've been floundering - caught in the wrestle of emphasis - and wondering how we can maintain the true value of this holiday without being wrapped up in selfishness.<br />
<br />
Then, on Sunday morning, I heard a quiet whisper in my heart regarding our family's holiday season. Though Christmas has often seemed to be a busy, expensive season that overflows with obligation, this year it could be different. In my heart, I felt the assurance and soul-quenching message: "God gives good gifts!" <i><b>While I've been focused on all that I've had to do and to give, God wants me to focus on His goodness and provision for me and my family.</b></i><br />
<br />
In my effort to squelch the materialism of Christmas, I've been imparting an unhealthy attitude that causes joy and generosity to deteriorate in my children's hearts the way osteoporosis weakens bones and causes collapse. Conversely, my kids will learn about and experience the goodness of God through my generosity and intentionality as a parent. <br />
<br />
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As this realization blossomed in my heart, I pictured a Christmas where I delight in blessing my children. I envisioned family-time that was filled with laughter and celebration - and realized that even the smallest of gifts could be a gesture that sparks anticipation and joy in their hearts. And it most certainly isn't the price tag that matters, instead it's the thoughtfulness and meaning that is behind the gift. Also, "good gifts" don't have to be defined by being items bought in a store, but can be experiences - moments of joy and words of affirmation that warm the heart. Most of all, the gift can be found in <i>slowing down</i>, and enjoying a season that celebrates what really matters - relationships, both with our Savior and with our families.<br />
<br />
Part of what this looks like for my family this year is what I'm calling the "5 Days of Christmas". We've been incredibly blessed with an opportunity to have a mini-vacation in Montana for 5 nights and so, with some planning and intentionality, we're celebrating the idea that God gives us good gifts. Each day, the kids get a tiny gift to open at breakfast time - and then we've planned fun activities and games we can do as a family. All along the way, we're pointing out how God has blessed us and given us so many good gifts - like friends to go sledding with, beautiful scenery to enjoy and a family to cherish.<br />
<br />
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<br />
So far, the redemption of this season has been a success. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><i>Our hearts are tuned into the goodness that God has for us and the gifts He's given us as a family. </i></b></blockquote>
We have so many reasons to celebrate, and we've only just begun. With hope and expectation, as we journey together towards Christmas Day, we will enjoy and experience gratefulness... not grinchy-ness!<br />
<br />
<br />
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happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-12049577462377888082013-12-07T01:18:00.000-07:002013-12-07T01:18:25.094-07:00Afraid of the Pagans<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I am afraid of the pagans... or the heathens... depending on your definition.<br />
<br />
<br />
Did I really say that out loud?<br />
<br />
All my life, I've grown up fairly sheltered, in a Christian home. A good home. A religious, Jesus-loving, Bible-thumping home.<br />
<br />
And I sincerely loved Jesus and started talking to Him on my own from the time I was about 3 years old. Feel free to think that I was brainwashed, but I know that I haven't been talking to myself all of these years.<br />
<br />
But when I read an article this week, <a href="http://infoforfamilies.com/blog/2013/11/13/how-to-raise-a-pagan-kid-in-a-christian-home#.UqLDQOKFUpc" target="_blank">How To Raise A Pagan Kid In A Christian Home</a>, it shook me. And it also resonated with my deep belief that I don't want to shove Christianity down anyone's throats - including my kids' throats. I want it to be real - so real that my kids don't need to be prodded and pushed and forced and coerced - but that they actually WANT to know the same Jesus that I profess to know because they actually SEE IT displayed in my life in an appealing context.<br />
<br />
However, I've sheltered my kids. I don't necessarily feel bad about all of it - I mean, it's not like I should turn on a porn channel and say "Hey kids, this is the kind of crap there is in the world, so get used to it!". But I've been careful - really careful.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BaB4zmFCAAAZe2x.jpg:large" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" class="media-image bottom-corners" data-height="640" data-width="480" height="320" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BaB4zmFCAAAZe2x.jpg:large" style="height: 530px; margin-top: 0px; width: 397.5px;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My "sheltered" kids climbing on the fence to talk to a neighbor.</td></tr>
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Today we ran into an old neighbor (a child, around 11 or 12) and her eyes lit up with recognition when she saw us. I wouldn't say she came from the best of homes, but I also wouldn't say her home was bad. They rented the house across the street, and the mom had a boyfriend living with her and then another suspiciously dead-beat sort of guy sleeping on their couch, and they had their parties... TV blaring all the time... that kind of stuff. <br />
<br />
I would let her hang out at our place, but in limited measure. Truth be told, I was nervous... what if she influenced my kids for evil? What if she taught them bad words or told them about "bad" movies that she was allowed to watch? What if she sang non-Christian songs to them... songs written by people like.... Justin Beiber!?! (ha ha... you know I had to throw that in there!)<br />
<br />
So when I saw her today, my heart melted a little. I've personally been going through a lot of changes, and have been doing a lot of assesment of my beliefs and behaviors - asking myself questions like "Why do I act this way?.. respond this way?... etc." Basically, I'm trying to figure out if my actions really line up with what I think I believe in my heart and if I'm being honest, it doesn't always translate properly. I'm not exactly who I think I should be according to my beliefs and desires. I've definitely got a ways to go...<br />
<br />
Perhaps my present day actions and responses are merely the response to being afflicted with the homeschooled-religiously sheltered mentality that I was given in my growing-up years. But I'm not throwing out the baby with the bathwater. I homeschool my kids, yes... but my primary reason is not to "shelter" them and keep them from the big, bad world. I love the freedom it brings us as a family, when we can learn and grow - creatively, unhindered, together. (But that is a subject for another blog.) However, when I was in high-school, I definitely felt that one of the reasons I was homeschooled was to shelter me. (And my parents had their reasons, and I do respect them for all their efforts!)<br />
<br />
Yet, when I look at the Jesus we see in scripture, the Jesus of the Gospels, I see someone who unreservedly enjoyed ALL manner of people. Especially heathens. Maybe even pagans (insert winking smiley face here!). He was accused by the religious people of being a winebibber and a glutton (see Matthew 11:19). In today's standards, that might be translated as Jesus being accused of being a party animal and a pot-head! (Or maybe a foodie!)<br />
<br />
So I'm left with this thought about my perspective: something is messed up. What is it that I fear? Why couldn't I freely open my home to a (then) 8 year old child who just enjoyed the rowdiness of my full household?! What is it that makes me freeze up when I'm talking to... gasp!... non-believers?!<br />
<br />
I know one thing... I don't want to come across as arrogant. I don't want to be self-righteous like the Pharisees whom Jesus called out time and time again for their hard hearts and their blatantly unloving (godless) behavior. <br />
<br />
So the answer to that is humility, and love. I'm not on this earth to call out people's wrong-doings. It's just not my job. Christians, the Bible is pretty clear that the only ones who we should be ragging on for bad behavior is the people who actually profess to be believers... the ones who should know better! (See 1 Corinthians 9:5-13) <br />
<br />
What else? I'm also afraid of not knowing what to say. I'm afraid of being stumped when someone asks me to defend my faith.<br />
<br />
Should that keep me from being engaged in relationship with people who believe differently? No. I hope not. On one hand, I would hope that if I'm speaking with grace and humility, as well as speaking from my personal experience - that I don't have to have every "i" dotted and every "t" crossed. On the other hand, I'm not saying that personal study isn't important... but it would be pretty ridiculous to avoid all conversations of potential contraversy and challenge until you feel that you are fully educated in every area of doctrine, theology, eschatology, ecclesiology, and every other "ology" that there is pertaining to scripture.<br />
<br />
Let's bring this full-circle. I stated my fear of <i>heathens</i>. This realization and admittance is embarrassing. I really love some "so-called" heathens and I know the world is full of wonderful, kind, compassionate "heathens". Do I personally believe that they need Jesus? Yes. Do I need to treat them like they have the plague and I should avoid them at all cost? No.<br />
<br />
My challenge, (and really I am challenging myself,) is to be REAL everywhere I go, with everyone I meet. I don't need to hide my Christianity, but I also don't need to use my "religious words and sayings" as a battering ram against those who don't believe. If my Christianity is real... it will speak for itself in my actions, deeds, family, lifestyle... and in my love.<br />
<br />
To take it another step... and I do so with much trepidation... if my Christianity is real, then my kids don't need to be lectured continually on how "moral" and "Christian" they should act, but they will absorb and ascertain for themselves the truth of a relationship with God, if I am indeed living a life that cries for relationship with a heavenly Father and is not just about following a rulebook. That means I shouldn't be afraid to be kind and loving, and to open my home to all kinds of people.<br />
<br />
Now hang on, it doesn't mean I have to allow my neighbor's kid to bring over "The Exorcist" and have a movie night with my children... 3 year old included! For sure there is an element of common sense. But what I recognize in myself (and I could be the only messed-up Christian who feels this way) is an unnatural fear of "badness" seeping into my household. As if my beliefs are that innocuous and tepid that they could be plowed over by a couple swear words and mildly lascivious behavior that might be displayed in my home by a... heathen.<br />
<br />
I recognize that this has become a rather long post.. though it still seems incomplete to me. So if you've followed me thus far, my concluding thought would be... liberty. A Christian life is meant to be a free life. Romans 8 talks plenty about being freed from the "law of sin and death". If we are truly free, then what have we to fear? Certainly not our neighbor who just wants to chat about kids and the crazy weather and how their in-laws are coming for Christmas. <br />
<br />
In the words of Jesus "Love your neighbor as yourself." Since I don't live in a commune (yet!) my neighbors include a lot of different people... even some heathens. So I'm committing myself to be more open, friendlier and less fearful as I continue this life-long journey. </div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-90707615044702755782013-12-02T19:52:00.000-07:002013-12-02T19:52:31.407-07:00Mama Messed Up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Defeated.<br />
<br />
That's about the best way I can describe myself right now, as I hide in a dark room with tear-stained cheeks.<br />
<br />
What went wrong?<br />
<br />
How did I turn into such a failure as a mom?<br />
<br />
These are the questions that pour from my hurting heart as I ponder the deterioration of my day. <br />
<br />
Probably worst of all, I feel like a hypocrite. Just a couple hours ago, I had an intense one-on-one time with my daughter about her being so emotional. I spoke to her about how to change your heart and deal with your nasty feelings when they make you want to do or say horrible things to your siblings... again and again. I talked about making choices to let go of anger and let it be replaced by peace - and most importantly, how you can not blame others for your reactions - because let's face it... even if your little brother spills cereal on your craft, it does not give the right to push him and scream and explode with fury.<br />
<br />
But when push comes to shove (and push my buttons, those 6 kids sure do) I am at fault. I respond wrongly. I sin against my kids with a tone of voice that cuts and I respond with a frustration that bruises their little hearts.<br />
<br />
All I can say is that I have another fantastic opportunity to model repentance to my children.<br />
I will ask them to forgive my harshness and anger towards them.<br />
I will hug them and make sure we are "okay" with each other.<br />
I'll show them that mistakes happen... but the real mistake would be in not repairing what was broken down. <br />
<br />
Moms and dads, we don't have to be super-heroes to our children. Because after a while, your kids can see through your disguise and the costume (or rather the role) that you wear in your child's presence won't glimmer like it used to. So instead of pretending, and trying to maintain that "authority-perfection-super-parent" image in the eyes of your child, you have the opportunity to be genuine and to show your kids how relationships should work in the real world. You have to chance to teach them how to handle mistakes, ask for forgiveness and experience the beauty of reconciliation.<br />
<br />
I wish I didn't make mistakes as a mother, I really do. And I'm not writing this post as a way to excuse myself for being angry or frustrated; that it's all okay just because it means I'm teaching my kids to say "sorry". No, I don't like my mistakes and I will endeavor to improve. I will seek encouragement when I need it and look to resources to improve my parenting... until the last kid has grown up and moves out! However, the beauty... the silver lining to my cloudy, gloomy moments - is that I can equip my kids to do relationships well. In my acts of repentance, I'm modeling the behavior that will one day impact their future friendships, marriages and even the raising of their own children.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-15724077965181525412013-11-14T18:27:00.000-07:002013-11-14T18:27:36.736-07:00True Confessions of an Imperfect Parent<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If you are a parent, or if you have ever been a child, then you know for certain that in a family of more than one kid, it's inherently wrong to pick favorites. You are <b>NEVER EVER</b> allowed to say: "Billy, you're my favorite kid." - especially if your other child is standing next to Billy.<br />
<br />
I know, I know, sometimes you have a child who is an absolute delight all the time, sickeningly sweet in demeanor, always being helpful and making you feel like you are the best parent in the world. <i><b>But you just don't pick favorites</b></i>. It's wrong. It's cruel. <br />
<br />
However, I have an admission. A confession. I'm gonna say something that parents should never, ever say.<br />
<br />
One of my children is my <i>least favorite</i>. I even have moments (sometimes hours) where I feel like I don't even like this child. (And I am rightfully embarrassed about this.)<br />
<br />
It's awful, I know. A mother's love should be unending and unquenchable. We've all heard the phrase: <i> a face that only a mother could love... </i> So what does that mean? Could it mean that I should be full of love, cuddles and syrupy-sweet goodwill towards my child even at the worst of times?<br />
<br />
Sorry. It just doesn't work that way.<br />
<br />
Somehow, this child (whom I will not identify) has the ability to reduce me to tears with only a few words. Their stubbornness and effluent attitude melts my patience like a snowflake melts when it lands on an open flame. I have found myself at wit's end more often than not due to this child's amazing ability to push all of my buttons, excessively and repetitively until I feel literally broken and totally inadequate as a mother. I am not exaggerating. <br />
<br />
Yes, deep within my heart, and on the good days, I really love this child. <br />
<br />
<i>But it is so stinkin' hard sometimes.</i><br />
<br />
So what do we do with a close relationship that seems to be all bumps and jagged edges?<br />
<br />What do you do when someone you are supposed to love has an amazing ability to rub you the wrong way?<br />
<br />
What do you do when you're supposed to be the grown-up, the example, the leader... and you keep on making mistakes, saying the wrong thing and over-reacting?<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Pull them closer.</b><br />
<br />
Yep... you heard me. As much as you want to run away... instead, when you are in a difficult spot with a loved one and you feel like you just don't get it and you can't make it work... the best thing you can do is <u>pull them into your embrace</u> (figuratively and maybe even literally).<br />
<br />
Now, I can't exactly take credit for this advice - I don't remember where I heard it though, and I've adapted it to my own situation. So I'll paraphrase and try to explain what I mean and what I've experienced with this "special" child of mine.<br />
<br />
When my child doesn't respond or react the way that I want, to the things I say, I feel threatened. That's the bottom line. I end up feeling a loss of control both of my emotions and of my child. Unfortunately, when I'm losing control, this child reacts to my emotions and has a way of escalating the situation. <br />
<br />
Certainly we are clashing due to personality differences, due to circumstances and personal stress (mine and theirs) but life will always provide reasons (excuses) for blame in a difficult relationship. It doesn't mean that the end result should be frustration, hurt and separation. Believe me, I WANT to run away. I'd rather give myself a 'Mommy-time-out' and disengage myself from the conflict. Yet, my child deserves more. And I hope for so much more in our relationship. Instead of leaving, instead of shutting the door to my heart emotionally, I'm learning to draw this child close - to seek out points of connection and closeness even though the conflict seems to trump a lot of our days.<br />
<br />
So how do I cope? Well, I'd like to say that I have learned to instantly recognize when I'm becoming too emotional and acting like a child and losing control. However, I'm not there yet. <br />
<br />
My strategy is three-fold. <br />
<br />
First, I stabilize the situation. If that means that I have to stop the conversation... (even to the point of putting down the school book that only has half a question answered so far, despite all of my encouraging and prodding...) I will let it go - even if just for the moment, and sometimes for the rest of the day.<br />
<br />
This is similar to the idea of "picking your battles". Sometimes I know that I will not be able to handle the situation well, so we just <u>end that situation</u> while our emotions are heated. We can always come back to it later. The schoolwork can wait. My child's heart is not worth being trampled upon because I don't know how to respond without being emotionally stirred.<br />
<br />
The second part is the "pulling closer" part. That could mean that once you've shut down the situation, you immediately connect physically with your child (or significant other, if that is the person with whom you're having conflict). Or... if this doesn't seem feasable, then plan a way to connect later that day. Do something special together. Read a book, have a cup of tea, share a cookie. Just find a place of loving connectedness. Re-engage in a way that doesn't feel stressful. (Now is not the time to bring up the issue of conflict!)<br />
<br />
Lastly: try, try again. Could you have approached the situation from a different angle? Or, if it was clearly one-sided (and it rarely is....) then could you just get yourself to a place of peace where you don't react wrongly? Obviously when it comes to dealing with kids, I can't just expect them to act like mature human beings all the time. They are going to respond childishly. I do have to be the "better man" and choose to be more patient, loving and kind than I feel that their actions deserve. That is my responsibility as a parent. And if I'm dealing with an adult - whether friend, spouse or stranger - that is being difficult, I want to learn to be gracious. I desire to be a peacemaker - even when it is challenging. It's not easy, though.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On easy days & hard days: Pull Them Close!</td></tr>
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Okay, so I've admitted my weakness here. I'm not the perfect parent who deals graciously with my kids at all times. I screw up. I get emotional. At times I feel broken and sorely lacking in my relational skills. But there is hope. There is even forgiveness. And I really believe that the key is connectedness. Don't let the angry moments overshadow and quench the moments of kindness and closeness. Fight for the connection. Though I may feel wounded, I will push past my bruised ego that wrongly says "I'm the mom, so I always need to be seen as right". <br />
<br />
Life is a journey. I'm set on learning, growth and change. Even though there are the "bad days", and on those days, I may not feel as though I "like" my child(ren), I will <i><b>always</b></i> love my children and I'll keep on trying. <br />
<br />
<br />
Oh, and for the record, it isn't ALWAYS terrible with this child. We have some great moments, too. (But, I am looking forward to the season when we can relate better... probably when they <b>and I</b> have grown up a little more!)<br />
<br /></div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-25563893950159101282013-11-13T16:33:00.000-07:002013-11-13T16:33:10.584-07:00Why I Love Nature Walks...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For once, mud has made my heart happy. <br />
<br />
The muddy boots sitting by my front door are a welcome reminder of tromping through the hills with my family. We relished the November sun as it made slush of the snow-covered trails in the valley that echoed with the delighted exclaims of my inquisitive children. I taught my little ones to recognize the call of the Chickadee, and smiled to myself as they called back "Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!" to the tiny bird perched high in the naked branches.<br />
<br />
I highly recommend a regular diet which partakes of the great outdoors! <br />
<br />
Are you stressed? Get outside, under the vast expanse of blue sky on a clear day and soak it in. <br />
<br />
Are your kids driving you crazy with excessive noise and disaster-prone behavior? Get them outside! Trust me, the dirt is worth it when you account for the fact that their voices are lost in the wide open spaces and the entertainment is found - not in the eerie glow of a screen, but in the trees, hills, rocks and sky.<br />
<br />
Are you sad or lonely? All of creation cries of a God who meticulously designed a world intended to glorify Him, and give us delight. Every snowflake, every cloud, every snow-capped mountain on the horizon... all of nature's bounty is a reminder of a good God, who makes beautiful things and cares about even the smallest details. For that I am thankful, and in my grateful enjoyment, I am truly refreshed.<br />
<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span class="versetext" id="ps19-1" style="display: inline;">God's glory is on tour in the skies, God-craft on exhibit across the horizon. </span></i><i><span class="versetext" id="ps19-2" style="display: inline;"><span class="versenum"></span>
Madame Day holds classes every morning, Professor Night lectures each evening. </span></i><i><span class="versetext" id="ps19-3" style="display: inline;"><span class="versenum"> </span>Their words aren't heard, their voices aren't recorded, </span></i><i><span class="versetext" id="ps19-4" style="display: inline;"><span class="versenum"> </span>But their silence fills the earth: unspoken truth is spoken everywhere.</span></i><br />
<i>-Psalm 19:1-4</i> <i>(MSG)</i></blockquote>
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happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-42278669685738920902013-11-05T19:45:00.002-07:002013-11-05T19:45:33.803-07:00Change, Uncomfortable Change....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm in transition again.<br />
<br />
If you've had a baby, you know what I mean - it's that brief period of time before delivery where you shake, maybe vomit, and cry and scream at your companions: "I CAN'T DO IT!" <br />
<br />
That is the precise moment when one of the nurses knowingly nods her head and says: "She's in transition. It won't be long, now."<br />
<br />
Since I've had 5 natural births, I have to admit that when my last child was born (at home, unassisted) I recognized transition when it came. No one had to tell me: "It's okay, sweety, you're almost there, you're just in transition." Likewise, I recognize that the transition I am experiencing now, though not about to result in natural birth, is just part of the process in the season of life that I'm currently experiencing.<br />
<br />
The good thing is: the very nature of transition is change.<br />
The bad thing is: the very nature of transition is change.<br />
(Transition is hard, but can produce good results!) <br />
<br />
If you are in a place of transition, you know that you can't stay there forever, but it involves a lot of shifting and stretching and pain as you adjust and grow into your next phase. Change is good, but it means you have to deal with being in the uncomfortable and unfamiliar for a while before you come to the place of fulfillment. <br />
<br />
When it comes down to it, we usually fear and resist change because of the stress that it brings.<br />
<br />
So let me be brutally honest.<br />
<br />
I cried when I was painting the walls of my bedroom, feeling overwhelmed with the thought of needing to clean up our "new house" and sell it, and move again, for the second time in a year.<br />
I got angry as I packed boxes and sifted through junk in my garage - thinking... didn't I just do this?<br />
And I continually feel exhausted with the fiasco of house-selling: clean it, leave it, show it, repeat.<br />
<br />
There are some days when I feel like I'm drowning in the stress of not being able to live a normal life.<br />
However, even though I have my momentary lapses of insanity, and like a woman in labor I want to scream and swear and exclaim "I CAN'T DO IT!", I also have a sense that my perspective could be different. <br />
<br />
I don't want to survive this season... I want to thrive.<br />
I want to find joy in the journey.<br />
<br />
The solution, as far as I know, is found in acceptance, hope, and the most sustaining of all: peace. <br />
<br />
When you're in labor, a good trick is to tell yourself: "I just have to get through this contraction..." and you do your best to breathe deep and survive the tension of that moment, knowing that there will be a short rest period when the contraction is over. But you MUST NOT think about the next 10 or 20 or 30 contractions - that is where panic sets in and you have no idea how you'll survive! This outlines the "acceptance" part of my solution. <i>I just have to get through today, and I want to do today well.</i> I don't have to think about how long this process will be - in fact that would probably be detrimental to my state of mind! So I do my best with today, and look forward to those moments of calm that come like a cool breeze on a blistering hot summer day.<br />
<br />
Then there's the factor of hope. What is coming, and what you will accomplish when you reach "the other side" of transition is more important than the "when" - especially when there are circumstances beyond your control. There are a lot of aspects of my life which I am unable to control right now, and no matter how much I stress about it - it just won't change! So I focus on the future. I allow myself to visualize the future, knowing that "this too shall pass" and I have hope. Just like an expectant, laboring mother knows that the baby can't "stay in there forever", I know that I won't be in this season forever.<br />
<br />
Lastly, but most importantly, I have to give credit to the intangible, and often unexplainable sense of <i><b>peace</b></i>. Philippians 4:6 & 7 describes peace as "a sense of God's wholeness... (that) will come and settle you down". I don't know where I'd be without my random, on-the-spot 10 second bursts of prayer; those moments where I know I've come to the end of all reason and I need something-Someone bigger than myself to sweep in and assure me that I'm gonna make it. God's peace can bring calm in the worst of situations. His kind of peace brings resolve that "everything is going to be okay", even if you have no idea HOW it will work out.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>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. It’s wonderful what happens when
Christ displaces worry at the center of your life. (MSG)</i></blockquote>
I know that life will look radically different 6 months from now, and there's sure to be a new set of adventures for me to chronicle and blog about. If anything, a life full of transitions signifies growth and an adventurous life. I can't deny the fact that I'm an adventure seeker - and history speaks for itself. Given the fact that my life will probably never be "normal", I'm on a quest to travel well - to grow in each challenge, and let this journey shape me, not break me.<br />
<br /></div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-63588753755575052452013-03-07T15:47:00.000-07:002013-03-07T15:47:18.449-07:00A no-good-very-bad-horrible morning... and how I survived.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Splashing boiling oatmeal on myself at 11 AM this morning was a pivotal moment in my day. As I frantically wiped the sticky goo off of my chest, I knew that something had to happen or I would be the one erupting and sending boiling blobs of angry words at my kids if they got too close.<br />
<br />
If you rewind my day by a few hours, you can understand why I got up on the wrong side of the bed. The reason, in fact, had much to do with the fact that my two little boys snuck into my room, well before our usual "wake-up" time, and began to climb on me - all knees and elbows - when I felt like I'd much rather hit the "snooze" button. At first, I tried to cherish the moment - and enjoy their snuggles and stories, but the horror of my day became very obvious when the 3 year old began pushing the 5 year old away from his comfy spot next to Mommy, and the fighting and whining began. Clearly, they were both up too early and had not clocked enough hours of sleep to function without continual, incessant whining.<br />
<br />
<i>Onward to my day,</i> I thought, as I opened a new package of coffee beans to grind them. "Drat!" I whispered out-loud to myself. Going against my better instincts, I had bought that "new" brand of beans because of the attractive price tag on the grocery-store shelf. They lacked the sheen and glimmer that I had grown used to with my gourmet coffee beans, and even the aroma told me that they were going to be a far cry from my usual brew.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, other children stirred, awoke and started to feed like hogs at a trough as they gobbled apples and homemade buns and begged for more and more food. <br />
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I attempted to start my day right. With the less-than-lovely coffee in my favorite mug, I sank onto the couch and wrapped myself in a blanket and opened up my Bible. Even my designated passage for the day seemed to lack encouragement and the zest and inspiration that a mother needs to face half-a-dozen children, a sink full of dishes and multitudes of "to do's" on the homeschooling agenda. I was still stuck in the Old Testament, reading about kings and their nation who had turned from God and were sunk deep in the clutches of sin - worshiping idols, living lives of harlotry and murdering people until you couldn't walk down the street without tripping across a rotting corpse. <i><b>May the Lord bless the reading of His Word... </b>(Disclaimer: I LOVE the Word of God. I just found it ironic that my passage for today was almost entirely about the wicked deeds of those who had turned away from serving the Lord.)</i><br />
<br />
Once breakfast was over, I instructed the children to take care of their daily scheduled chores, namely to clean up the disaster state that the kitchen was in, including that mess of their first feeding of the day. I went into my room, intending to tackle some of the more neglected areas - my enormous bathroom mirror, counter top... the toilet! I also stripped the cookie and banana soiled sheets off my bed (thanks to my youngest child) and I even vacuumed my floor! Hooray! Progress!<br />
<br />
Not so fast... of course the children needed step-by-step instruction and prodding to complete their own cleaning jobs! I came into the kitchen to find it still looking like a complete disaster! I barked out some orders and began to wipe down the kitchen counter and toss dirty dishes in the sink. Then I remembered that I had been so busy, I hadn't yet eaten any breakfast. I measured oatmeal and water into a small pot, turned on the stove and returned to my room to quickly finish my tidying. Only... what did I find? There was Ezra, a trail of crumbs leading to him all the way from the doorway to the place where he sat, crumbs spilling all over the mattress and even sprinkled in the basket of laundry that was sitting on the bed next to him!<br />
<br />
"Ezzzrrraa!" I shrieked. "No food in Mommy's room!" I sent him to the kitchen to eat, and I turned the vacuum back on and proceeded to clean up the mess on my bed and previously clean carpet.<br />
<br />
Then I went back to the kitchen, where I immediately smelled burning oatmeal! "Ahhhh!! My oatmeal!" I grabbed the pot, splashing the molten goo upon myself (Remember?) while I poured what wasn't burnt into another pot, and dropped the scummy, burnt-on-oatmeal pot into the sink to soak.<br />
<br />
It was just 11 am, but I felt like I had experienced entire week's worth of whining, fighting, mess-making and misbehaving. <br />
<br />
Somehow I slogged my way through a minimal amount of schoolwork for the day and made the kids some lunch. I fired off a prayer to God, asking for patience, but I continued to feel horribly overwhelmed and ill-equipped to handle my kids.<br />
<br />
With nap time on the horizon, I relinquished control and told the kids to either play downstairs or in their rooms, and I plopped my 3 year old on my bed in front of his favorite cartoon so I could hopefully procure just a few moments of peace. I locked my door and shut myself into the bathroom.<br />
<br />
I wish I could tell you that I had some sort of epiphany that suddenly changed my perspective and made sense of my day.<br />
<br />
I felt like laying on the floor, covering my head with a towel and crying or swearing or maybe I would just close my eyes and try not to think anymore as everything within me wanted to give up.<br />
<br />
Instead, I took a look in the mirror and realized that I should take a shower. A long, steamy, potentially relaxing shower - ALONE. So I did. And miraculously, no-one was whining at me, and there were no messes being made inside that lovely-lonely shower stall.<br />
<br />
Finally, I was feeling a little bit less stressed, and definitely a lot cleaner. I shut off the water, and took my time - didn't rush out of the room to take care of the kids because, from what I could hear, they were just playing and no one was in a state of emergency. I took the time to put on some yummy smelling lotion. I trimmed my nails and brushed my hair. <br />
<br />
I spent time taking care of ME, and I began to feel a little bit better about life.<br />
<br />
I'm not sharing this to belittle my children and my life as a VERY BUSY stay-at-home mom. I'm also not trying to minimize the importance of my faith, and seeking the kind of peace that only God can give. However, once in a while, you have to ask if you are treating <i><b>yourself </b></i>with care and kindness. <br />
<br />
Once in a while, a mom (or dad) needs a time-out. Doing something as simple as showering, using lotion and ignoring my kids for all of 23 minutes didn't change my life or magically turn my children into little angels. But, for a few moments I could breath, and because of that, I walked out a better (slightly less stressed-out) mom. I was ready to take on a little more of what this day was dishing out... at least until nap-time.<br />
<br /></div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-67189171879099706332013-01-30T17:03:00.001-07:002013-01-30T17:03:32.532-07:00Facebook Folly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Facebook hurt my feelings today.<br />
<br />
Sometimes Facebook hurts your feelings when no-one "likes" your photo or status. Or maybe you post something meaningful and heartfelt and receive no comments.<br />
<br />
<a 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" style="height: 182px; margin-top: 0px; width: 175px;" /></a>Other times, Facebook is hurtful if you check your friends list, and notice that someone "dumped" you as a friend. That's what happened to me today. I was the victim of an "un-friending".<br />
<br />
The silly thing - I don't even know when exactly it happened. I don't know the fateful hour when this person decided to clean-up their friends list and wipe me from their newsfeed.<br />
<br />
And I honestly felt crushed... but then I began to reason with myself - am I acting like a Jr. High school kid? Does <b><i>social media</i></b> really have that much power over my emotions? <br />
<br />
Too bad I'm a softie. 'Cuz it hurts.<br />
<br />
However, it does give me cause to question how much "approval" I seek from such a fickle, artificial environment. Facebook may provide more accessible, often light-hearted access to relationships. Often, these are people whom I wouldn't physically be able to remain in contact with over the years due to time and/or distance - but, once again, it doesn't offer a true representation of humanity.<br />
<br />
Even I am guilty of carefully wording status updates, to ensure they are received a certain way (I hope). I also avoid commenting on political/religious/parenting/philosophical debates because I don't want to bother with unpleasantness during my "social media break-time". <br />
<br />
Then... there are the profile photos that are so carefully selected to look "better than real life" and display me in the best possible light.<br />
<br />
I can't even imagine if Facebook was in "real-time" to the degree that my profile photo was a current image of myself - no matter what I was wearing, what my hair looked like, whether or not I was wearing make-up, and no matter where I was currently seated. (Ummm... I can't be the only one guilty of using their smart-phone in the bathroom!)<br />
<br />
So, I've established that social media is contrived, perhaps even fake to a certain degree. But, "real" or not, it is also very powerful. It can make me laugh, cry, be encouraged, and even warm my heart.<br />
<br />
Despite the "good" of Facebook, I have taken a stand and deleted Facebook off of my phone. This is not due solely to the woes I've just pointed out, and recently being "un-friended", but because I feel that <i><b>I need to have a firm grip on reality in order to fully live my life</b></i>. I don't want <i>Facebook</i> to replace<b> face-time</b> with the people who have to live with me day after day. They are the ones who experience the unfiltered "me" and I want to give them a more devoted, attached, committed relationship. Instead of <b>constantly</b> looking for approval, and connection, and even laughter in the glowing lights of a screen, I am going to look for more satisfaction in the faces of my children, husband and those with whom I am blessed to spend my time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik93d_pUDbeQs1MQjwEzX9J9Ig1he24rw-8gjyzi6UzsAKlEP-QgyJbyCIcpr50bEXIBzkLspm95-AQdjXxsuN4g7mqviRwMv47BTIWcCsWrosaYFrSojsVYe3yceiJJgxKmGmMKfn7qc/s1600/PHONE+PICS+137.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik93d_pUDbeQs1MQjwEzX9J9Ig1he24rw-8gjyzi6UzsAKlEP-QgyJbyCIcpr50bEXIBzkLspm95-AQdjXxsuN4g7mqviRwMv47BTIWcCsWrosaYFrSojsVYe3yceiJJgxKmGmMKfn7qc/s400/PHONE+PICS+137.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Face-time!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Facebook is not my umbilical cord of connection to humanity...</b> although, my smart-phone, with it's melodic bleeps and boops throughout the day would like me to believe that the opposite is true. So, I will silence those noises, and instead spend my days with my attention tuned to the laughter of my children - to the words they are waiting to speak, and to the emotions that they wish to share.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Hello, reality!</b></blockquote>
<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-66249831645425462352013-01-29T14:39:00.003-07:002013-01-29T14:42:38.037-07:00Cleaning Up... Again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There comes a point in time when I can no longer identify the food stains on the floor, and I know that I must do a thorough cleaning and mop up the mess. Last week, our family took turns having the flu, so there was an awful lot of laying around, feeling tired, and looking the other way when someone spilled their cereal or a piece of peanut-butter toast went face down on the floor, under the table.<br />
<br />
So this morning, knowing that we would have company tonight for my husbands birthday, I decided to clean the kitchen "for real". <br />
<br />
I ignored the children's school-work, instead content with the fact that they were happily playing together - using their imaginations.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0VdLg_mkThIgzR8aC-Qz_lDz4us8SgWCts77gd0OIUO1DZkIVn60WQsviCLNo2Leg2foER-vPxCdXCBxkVbIARcUFMS43Kvsffk1IL4D5bXSbsLwA5a8_xQGWfOv3qWO9CQPHo5qbmo/s1600/Camera+Effects(30).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0VdLg_mkThIgzR8aC-Qz_lDz4us8SgWCts77gd0OIUO1DZkIVn60WQsviCLNo2Leg2foER-vPxCdXCBxkVbIARcUFMS43Kvsffk1IL4D5bXSbsLwA5a8_xQGWfOv3qWO9CQPHo5qbmo/s320/Camera+Effects(30).jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>
I swept, I wiped walls, and I mopped the floor until every splotch and smear was removed. The table sparkled, the floors were damp but clean and the dishes were all either being washed in the dishwasher, or put away! Ahhhh.... for a few moments I basked in the simple pleasure of cleanliness.<br />
<br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<i>One hour later...</i></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Salt and food coloring drip<span style="font-size: small;">pings</span> from our craft made a trail from table to sink.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>My 3 year old had peed on the floor.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Two children decided to fight over a bowl of sticky dipping sauce from our lunch (mmm... somosas!) and it resulted in splatters all over the two children, all over the table, and all over the floor!</b></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>"Why do I bother to mop!??!!!" </b>I said (or maybe yelled or shrieked or perhaps wailed out) to the children. My heart was pounding, my eyes bulged out, my blood<span style="font-size: small;"> was<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>boiling and my frustration over-the-top!</div>
<br />
With a deep sigh, I told the kids "Don't move a muscle!" as their clothing and bare arms glistened with dripping sauce; forming puddles and spots all over the now unclean floor.<br />
<br />
I grabbed a dishcloth, wiped them clean and sent them to change.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>My floor was sticky.</b><br />
<br />
My life, somehow became undone as I battled the emotions that I've been seeking to contain and control.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be angry. I don't want to "cry over spilled milk", as they say.<br />
<br />
But it never seems to end....<br />
<br />
And I wondered, for a moment, what it feels like to be Father God, looking down on this mess of a world.<br />
<br />
He sees every broken heart, every lonely soul, every angry thought, every desperate action.<br />
<br />
He sees all of my mistakes and failings as a mother, wife, friend... but never says to me "Why do I bother to clean you up???"<br />
<br />
Instead, "His mercies are new every morning." (Lamentations 3:23)<br />
<br />
His "righteousness like the waves of the sea", washing over me; again and again - no matter how many times I fail. (Isaiah 48:18) <br />
<br />
I'm humbled by a God whose love never fails, or dries up, or gives up on me. It continues, and I can always depend upon it; like I know that the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and next week, and next year...<br />
<br />
As I am renewed and empowered by this grace and mercy, I have strength to mop the floor again...<br />
<br />
But, concerning all my adorable little mess-makers... I'm pretty sure it's naptime.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-32996582057007980902013-01-28T12:18:00.000-07:002013-01-28T12:18:16.249-07:00If Life Could Be Fixed With A Glue Gun...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The new, oversize Frog stuffie has lost an eye.<br />
<br />
Moms are meant to fix those things, and sew on buttons that rattled around in the dryer, pulled loose from someone's favorite sweater.<br />
<br />
Moms are supposed to keep the house clean, too. Most days I scatter myself around the house, pushing one load into the washer, dumping one load on the bed, then answer the child who asked "How do you spell 'considerate'?" and then chase the buck-naked three year old out of the pantry where he was trying to climb the shelves and steal some chocolate chips.<br />
<br />
So I didn't get around to dusting... mopping... but at least a toilet was cleaned when I gave myself a "time-out" for five minutes.<br />
<br />
I could never finish all the tasks on the "To Do" list. So I am once again in the process of determining priorities. I ask myself: What is urgent, vital, required?<br />
<b><i> </i></b><br />
<b><i>What really matters?</i></b><br />
<br />
I'd rather have the contented accomplishment of a meaningful, heartfelt conversation with my child(ren) than know that I gave the bathrooms a thorough cleaning. I'd rather teach my children character than chemistry. Yet, I know I can't forgo academic pursuits in their entirety just to pursue warm fuzzies and endless snuggle-time.<br />
<br />
I'm on the prowl for a life-change; a change of me and my focuses and direction; so that I can use my time wisely. Because it really does go by in a blink. SUDDENLY, I am the mother of six children. SUDDENLY, I have a teenager. SUDDENLY, my kids will be grown up and leaving home, one by one.<br />
<br />
I want to do things that really matter. I want to set my priorities properly. How will I make the right decisions?<br />
<br />
I was reading an article about a homeschooling mom who was burnt-out and asking for advice, and the advice given was to<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfP7a-oAP-Dbfczd0yd2MexLQBW1IoymtzIIQLRpPwhL_Rmckb-HLzf6ECmuhAKFr3aUllwGS7HpPT8zVVaM9d1ZrSJwPhmZaoeh-9mkrhhfOukyGUjzDajHCDUekstcrQswBaMlYo2I/s1600/Camera+Effects(29).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfP7a-oAP-Dbfczd0yd2MexLQBW1IoymtzIIQLRpPwhL_Rmckb-HLzf6ECmuhAKFr3aUllwGS7HpPT8zVVaM9d1ZrSJwPhmZaoeh-9mkrhhfOukyGUjzDajHCDUekstcrQswBaMlYo2I/s320/Camera+Effects(29).jpeg" width="240" /></a>FIRST FIND VISION, <br />
then<br />
SET PRIORITIES.<br />
<br />
It makes sense. I need to know my destination before consulting Google maps for directions.<br />
<br />
I have a feeling that this isn't as simple as it sounds. I'm not going to take this lightly as I tweak, adjust, modify, dissect, and amputate areas of my attitude, hopes, ideas and life. Much consultation will be done on my knees, in prayer, as I seek God's plans and vision for my family.<br />
<br />
For now, given the daunting task ahead of me, I'll fix the simple. Time to get the glue gun and stick Mr. Frog's eye back where it belongs. </div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-78989370579137723992013-01-11T16:37:00.000-07:002013-01-11T16:37:48.817-07:00New Season<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-17*C and so much snow!</td></tr>
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On a day like today, I actually started browsing the "last minute vacation deals" on various websites, feeling that if I could just find the right deal, I could fly my family (six kids and all) to a warm, tropical, white sand beach where we could relax and soak up some sun. Pushing the fantasy aside, I instead browned chicken in a large stainless steel pot, preparing a hearty, stick-to-your-ribs stew for our family's dinner tonight.<br />
<br />
Since I don't have an extra $7000 sitting around for an impromptu getaway, I could turn up the heat and the kids and I could get out our favorite summer shorts and tank tops. Better yet, as an overt denial to this wretchedly bone-chilling weather, I could just prance around outside in a sundress, shake my fist at the falling snowflakes and scream out: "Winter, be gone!!!"<br />
<br />
Okay, that would be some serious denial. And I might freak out the neighbors... and my children. (My husband? ...not so much!) <br />
<br />
Reality and circumstances dictate that I accept the changing of seasons - my very life depends upon it (unless I want to die of hypothermia).<br />
<br />
For many months now, I've been struggling to return to the blogosphere and write about my feelings, revelations, activities and life-lessons. Since the late summer, I've even had the same theme in my mind of a blog that I wanted to write, entitled "sabotage". I wanted to express how we, ourselves can sabotage our personal success and even emotional health by making poor or negative choices. For example (one of the easiest to pick on) is eating unhealthy. You know that you "should" eat a variety of fruits and vegetables, and not fill yourself up on cheese puffs and Mars bars, but you give in continually and end up tired, sick, and overweight.<br />
<br />
For me, the idea of sabotage came with the realization that I am personally responsible for much of my success in life. I make choices that influence my emotions, physical health and spiritual health. If I dwell in the past failures or frustrations or hurts, I may very well be sabotaging my ability to enter into happiness. I could become fixated on how weary I felt last winter, and expect this winter to be a repeat of that unhappiness. <br />
<br />
At the beginning of this post, I talked about the need to accept when a season is changing. You can't live the exact same way in the winter as you did in the summer. You have to get the shovel out of the garage, put on some tall boots and mitts and deal with the snow. (Or, be like a teenager I know and wear a stylish coat and cute little shoes with no socks and look pretty while being cold!)<br />
<br />
I've been sensing for my life, with this new year, that I'm entering a new season. I'll admit it - the last few years have been filled with some incredible challenges - renovations, new baby, living with relatives, pastoring a church, trying to homeschool, and being iron deficient! We entered into a time of major transition this fall and had a flurry of activity as we scrambled to complete renovations on our house, sell it and move back to the 'big city' for my husband's new job. Now that the dust is beginning to settle, I'm getting the feeling that I should expect life to be different. Of course we live in a different house, are attending a different church and are seeing different friends - that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about my expectations and hopes and my emotional outlook. I sense a new season in life... where I don't have to expect most days to be a struggle, but where I can enjoy the tasks I have at hand instead of dreading them and feeling exhausted.<br />
<br />
A changing of seasons requires a change of mindset. <br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Onward and upward!"<br />
-C.S.Lewis <i><b>The Horse and His Boy</b></i></blockquote>
</div>
happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-76647589221762691232012-06-18T20:11:00.000-07:002012-06-18T20:11:09.163-07:00T.G.I.M.!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
What's going on? Isn't it supposed to be T.G.I.F.? <br />
<br />
Sure, that is the traditional acronym that many of us are familiar - whether in the context of casual Friday, or the traditional after-work appys to be shared with friends, or in my case - the drop-in swimming and gym time at the YMCA for my kids. Or maybe you simply sigh it in relief: <i><b>THANK GOD, it's Friday....</b></i> and you're just thankful that tomorrow you can sleep in, and relax, and zone out.<br />
<br />
So here I am, blogging: Thank God It's Monday! Why?<br />
<br />
Monday is probably the day where you get back into your work week and know you've got 5 long days ahead of you. Or maybe it's the start of a hard week of studying and writing papers... Or maybe, like me, your days and weeks blur. My schedule changes so little whether it is a Tuesday or Saturday - I still have little kids to care for, diapers to change, meals to cook, and important lessons of character and virtue to instill in my lovely, active brood. Yet there is something about Monday. It is symbolic - the day we are expected to plunge into our regular (non-weekend, non-relaxing) activities. Monday is the day that we roll up our sleeves, whether we like it or not, and say "Alright... better get at it!"<br />
<br />
Okay, so if you agree with my above statement, then here's the reason for T.G.I.M.: Monday is your chance to get started on a new week, a new habit, a new way of living; a new YOU! Every week, Monday rolls around and you get another crack at it, another chance to live this new week <i>really well</i>. Consider it a "Happy New Week" not at all unlike the freshness of a new year.<br />
<br />
What does this week hold for you? What would you change and do differently than you did last week? Whether it involves working harder, breaking habits, living more purposefully or just relishing the fact that you never have to go through last week again, TODAY IS A NEW DAY (and Monday, the fresh start of a new week)!<br />
<span class="versetext" id="isa43-18" style="display: inline;"><i> </i></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="versetext" id="isa43-18" style="display: inline;"><i>"Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. </i></span><i><span class="versetext" id="isa43-19" style="display: inline;"><span class="versenum"></span>
<a href="" name="2"></a>Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? <a href="" name="3"></a>I will make a way in the wilderness <a href="" name="4"></a>and rivers in the desert." -Isaiah 43:18,19 </span></i></blockquote>
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<br /></div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-70225803304363303682012-06-17T18:14:00.000-07:002012-06-17T18:14:39.300-07:00My Dad<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-q8D2bnTyzje8H7yYzBCtQC-nfvpvNtUj3k2q8LIkfOxHc1vNpWu3Y1QklxnyXM_7XO-gKsk8HOmBAFNVAiy5TnCccctHcOlKha0IS-eN-TV9Mo-EuTwwOgMKdT7yJbruqOreBLo7APk/s1600/Papa+60th+bday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-q8D2bnTyzje8H7yYzBCtQC-nfvpvNtUj3k2q8LIkfOxHc1vNpWu3Y1QklxnyXM_7XO-gKsk8HOmBAFNVAiy5TnCccctHcOlKha0IS-eN-TV9Mo-EuTwwOgMKdT7yJbruqOreBLo7APk/s320/Papa+60th+bday.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
A little tribute to my dad:<br /> I grew up knowing a dad with rough
hands, usually stained by grease from working on our "newest" older
vehicle, or from helping fix a friend's broken down vehicle. If it
wasn't grease, it was drywall dust or pai<span class="text_exposed_show">nt
from a reno job that he was working on in the evening, to help pay the
bills of putting his kids through Christian school or helping us pay for
a youth group event or other needs we had. <br /> He's always been very
generous and I'm looking forward to my Papa coming this weekend to
visit... and, as usual, helping us work on our house!<br /> Happy Father's Day, to all the hard-working Dads out there...!</span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-49952670762046359382012-05-19T21:46:00.000-07:002012-05-19T21:46:31.308-07:00Mommy is busy...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://p.twimg.com/AriVNCbCAAA8QWs.jpg:large" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" class="scaled-image" height="150" src="https://p.twimg.com/AriVNCbCAAA8QWs.jpg:large" width="200" /></a></div>
There is a thick, aromatic tomato and beef pasta sauce simmering on the stove and bread dough rising on the counter. I'm a blur in my floral (thrift-store) vintage apron, stirring, kneading, sweeping, and snatching up my toddler to keep him from trying to "help" me... again. Kids are busy and filling my home with noise and activity - one child playing her favorite song (for the 30th time today) on the piano, another child galloping around the living room and girls running back and forth as they prepare a tea party in the back yard.<br />
<br />
My four year old rushes up to me, so excited: "Mommy, Mommy..." no response: "Mommy, come see!!!" he gushes, and pulls on my apron, getting right in my way as I'm scampering back and forth between oven and pantry and adding a "pinch of this and a dash of that" to the sauce on the stove.<br />
<br />
"Honey," I sigh, lovingly yet hurried, "You have to wait! Mommy is busy making supper."<br />
<br />
And he waits and waits... and my work is never quite completed and something always comes up: like the two year old, escaping from the house (again!), or some of the kids are fighting and I have to figure out how to deal with the bickering and teach them to be loving, patient and kind!<br />
<br />
I do my best to take good care of my children... but I am not the best example of attentiveness on planet earth. And tonight, I had a rare chance - without children tugging on my jeans and clamoring for my attention - to enjoy a worship service at my church. I was basking in the love and kindness of God and it occurred to me that although he has a planet-full of people to attend to, He never says "I'm busy right now... You'll have to wait for my attention." God is supernatural... He is God.... and His attention never wanes and He does not grow weary with our requests. Ps. 55:17 in the Message says: "<span class="versetext" id="ps55-17" style="display: inline;"><span class="versenum"></span>At dusk, dawn, and noon I sigh deep sighs - he hears, he rescues." and Psalm 34:15 (NIV) says:</span><br />
<div class="ResultText">
"The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous and his ears are <span class="Highlight">attentive</span> to their cry".</div>
<br />
<a href="https://p.twimg.com/AqSu1BICIAAn4qe.jpg:large" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" class="scaled-image" height="320" src="https://p.twimg.com/AqSu1BICIAAn4qe.jpg:large" width="236" /></a>I take heart in a God who is not limited by human nature and abilities. He isn't worn out, too busy or too stressed out to listen to me - whether I'm asking for help or simply rejoicing and giving thanks. I can only hope that as I experience and absorb the goodness and character of God, that I will display more of His attributes as I care for the little lives with whom He has entrusted me.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-33664614408036607362012-03-27T19:13:00.000-07:002012-03-27T19:26:54.447-07:00The Calm in the Storm<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The dishwasher is broken.<br />
But I kind of find the hot, sudsy water soothing and my hands find joy in the simple task of scrubbing, swishing, and rinsing.<br />
<br />
Later in the day, I'm relishing in the glory of a steamy, long shower (the only space that guarantees privacy) and I'm enjoying the fact that kids are cooperating and not banging on the door and disturbing my solitude. The next minute, I find myself in the opened front doorway, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, YELLING down the street at my children (namely my four year old) who headed out for an impromptu walk.<br />
<br />
My life seems kind of bipolar... up and down; like a teeter totter. Praises and joy on my lips one second, panic and frustration blurted out the very next moment.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOSLAs73fJhEGItvKDIwwOHonfjiV2ohy4EjDAtNYZO9SiUt4XU3xEEz32ocOwoPcIOVbJdT9BTM-OzlwvzlGsVWcjDYp-EPhS24DQ5ieWIPHFJecMXW2GNIzh-i7wvrQFdX22_rhhN6I/s1600/rain+on+windshield.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOSLAs73fJhEGItvKDIwwOHonfjiV2ohy4EjDAtNYZO9SiUt4XU3xEEz32ocOwoPcIOVbJdT9BTM-OzlwvzlGsVWcjDYp-EPhS24DQ5ieWIPHFJecMXW2GNIzh-i7wvrQFdX22_rhhN6I/s320/rain+on+windshield.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
And the greatest manifestation of peace comes in an unexpected place: waiting in the van for my little girls as they attend a monthly group piano lesson. They told me that some of the other moms would be inside, drinking tea and socializing. I told them I'd rather be alone... quiet, reading, thinking...<br />
<br />
So I sat in the van, with absolutely no urge to turn on the radio or look at my smart-phone. There was no need to fill the space with activity, information; <i><b>noise</b></i>. Instead I sat, breathed deep and stared out a cracked windshield as the gentle rain blurred my view.<br />
<br />
He comes in the calm. He breathes life in the stillness.<br />
<br />
The pitter patter of raindrops were a musical balm to my over-worked, stressed and over-stimulated emotions. Not even the most poetic melody or stirring symphony could have been a sweeter sound to my ears. He played His love song to me, a simple reminder: I AM.<br />
<br />
No matter the busyness, trials or worries; if I'm up one moment and down the next - it really doesn't matter. <br />
<br />
He finds me when I hide from the rest of the world.<br />
<br />
Drops of water for a thirsty, parched soul. </div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-6130583719219297022012-02-29T20:30:00.000-07:002012-02-29T20:36:37.210-07:00The Process of Simplification<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's been a lot of critical assessment going on in my house lately. "Simplify" is not just a trendy word featured in magazine articles and on TV shows, but it is my new reality. Especially since there is nothing simple about #1) six kids #2)homeschooling and #3) pastoring a church. So as my steam and energy for life has waned in the past year, I've had to begin to adjust and change the way I operate and exist. Simplifying is becoming my primary course of action as of late.<br />
<br />
Just to share how this is having an effect in my life I'm going to describe some of the ways I've been working to simplify.<br />
<br />
I worked to<a href="http://exploitsofmommyhood.blogspot.com/2011/05/hoarders-aka-my-children.html"> declutter - specifically my kids' toys and rooms.</a> I got rid of the majority of my children's toys, especially since it felt like they had dozens of things that they never played with, didn't really care about and that were of little benefit to them! I have also, on an ongoing basis, kept a "give-away" bag nearby, so I can get rid of any items that I don't think we need or that don't get used. <br />
<br />
I've also worked to declutter our schedule - attempting to assess<a href="http://exploitsofmommyhood.blogspot.com/2011/04/education-obsession-are-children-being.html"> my children's activities</a> and our activities as a family. I don't want to waste valuable time doing stuff that doesn't really matter in the long term. I think we are a generation that wants to give our kids all of the best in experiences, but that in itself doesn't create healthy families and children who grow up with character and purpose.<br />
<br />
I've also dabbled in, and recently revisited the idea of<a href="http://exploitsofmommyhood.blogspot.com/2009/07/organization-for-large-family.html"> my children's workload </a>and how they contribute in the home. I believe that I as a mother am not meant to be a slave to my kids and do everything for them, but that part of home life is teaching them how to take care of themselves and others (including how to cook and clean). That being said, they are included in the running of the home, and are expected to contribute.<br />
<br />
Even more recently, I've been simplifying our finances and taking a close look at how we spend our money. Whether you are working with a lot or with a little (money), having an awareness of your financial situation, and taking responsibility for the way you spend your money is a way of taking control and thus being able to tie up any loose ends (or dripping faucets of mismanaged money). For me, doing a budget "cleanse" and sticking to a cash-diet (no debit or credit) for a little while means that we will be in better control (and more aware) of our finances. <br />
<br />
Today this "simplifying" brought me to my cupboards and pantry. In trying to save some money this month, and pay off a small amount of unnecessary debt, we are going to attempt to shop a lot less, and only buy what we truly need. This means using the food that we already have in the cupboards. So, I got a little nerdy about it, but I did an inventory of our pantry! By knowing what we have available, I will have an easier time meal-planning, and I will plan our meals around ingredients that we already have in stock. Not only will we be saving money, but we will be less likely to waste food and... this simplifies things in that there will be less shopping for me to do!<br />
<br />
Anyway, this has been more of a practical "this is what's going on in my life" post, than something introspective and emotional like I normally write. However, I want to reflect upon the fact that all of this practical, hands-on simplifying leads me to a less cluttered, less emotionally driven lifestyle. A cluttered life - whatever the area - is usually a not-so-happy life. Clutter brings stress. I want to spend my time, money, energy, and essentially my life on the things that really matter. I don't want to be worn down by excess or by mismanagement of my resources. I may not be able to control all aspects of my life, and there will always be interruptions - but I will do my best to manage what I have, and in doing so, I'm sure to be more content.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZpaDa6CvKUE6s5LvjPe5sGr0Vza0pOmSNpHUfLOkwpGC9PRi9QuVohjSu1qjQaA22Hn-jRFxRcUG3YIAriF0xtSIUJCTCtrZXPYm7ssmo2CrXOqlxsb4PuH9G8E1cFlPHCHmXGRH6ejQ/s1600/prairies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZpaDa6CvKUE6s5LvjPe5sGr0Vza0pOmSNpHUfLOkwpGC9PRi9QuVohjSu1qjQaA22Hn-jRFxRcUG3YIAriF0xtSIUJCTCtrZXPYm7ssmo2CrXOqlxsb4PuH9G8E1cFlPHCHmXGRH6ejQ/s320/prairies.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
Simple is good.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
<h1 style="margin: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“In character, in manner, in style, in all things, the supreme excellence is simplicity.” -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</span></h1>
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<br /></div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-76326121872206924762012-02-22T18:49:00.000-07:002012-02-22T21:03:43.969-07:00Extremely Ordinary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I did it! I finally finished the last chocolate in the box... probably my third or fourth chocolate for today, because I told myself: <i>once all the Valentine's chocolates are gone, then I'll get serious about how I am eating!</i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtI7p5c_Et0zspeytZVR1KJ00UpT2oXKz_i66z1vHSqvq-yHmimuEFLTcbzGjpLd4Yp84b1jdUBBn7zUZTeiRlbKbH7DVo_6IX-qw5xP_USh0x-U3ppdfzKr85jXSkzqaTbpPvFfOSFrw/s1600/barvolento-open-box-300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtI7p5c_Et0zspeytZVR1KJ00UpT2oXKz_i66z1vHSqvq-yHmimuEFLTcbzGjpLd4Yp84b1jdUBBn7zUZTeiRlbKbH7DVo_6IX-qw5xP_USh0x-U3ppdfzKr85jXSkzqaTbpPvFfOSFrw/s320/barvolento-open-box-300.jpg" width="213" /></a>I've discovered that I have a penchant for extremes and addictive behaviors. For example, if I replaced my sweet tooth with a desire for alcohol, smoking or some other nasty habit, then both the obsession and mindlessness with which I indulge myself would clearly be seen as unhealthy. Some mornings I wake up and the shiny box of sugary chocolates immediately begins to attract my attention. Why eat Cocoa Puffs for breakfast when you could jolt your system with a succulent square of candy enrobed in milk chocolate? Then there is the issue with all of my "secret stashes". On a bad day, when my top dresser drawer is empty of goodies, I can always start searching the kitchen cupboards for other chocolates that I've stashed away. If worse comes to worse, there's always the humongous Costco bag of chocolate chips that I normally reserve for making my husband's favorite cookies... except in the case of emergency chocolate cravings.<br />
<br />
Over the years, I've attempted to keep my obsession confined to being primarily a holiday treat. We start out in January with the on-sale, leftover Christmas candy. Then comes February with Valentine's chocolates. In the spring, there are Easter bunnies and Cadbury Eggs. After that, there is a bit of a lull, but with various summer festivities, there are at least 2 candy parades (yes, my very community is an enabler to my bad habit!). Of course October means Halloween candy by the bucket-load, which often last until Christmas. So you see my problem - no time is a good time to avoid candy - it's practically shoved down my throat the whole year through!<br />
<br />
Well, I didn't intend to make this posting entirely about health and dieting, but it certainly illustrates the patterns and extremes of addictive behaviors and the impossibilities of controlling them.<br />
<br />
I tend towards extremes in my life. The pendulum swings from one extreme to the other whether it involves exercise, food or my schedule. For a while, I'm intensely committed to eating more healthfully, then I drop the ball, and I don't just let things slide, but I usually plunge myself into the sorrowful mindset of "I just couldn't do it, so now I might as well give up and eat every disgusting sugary, chocolaty thing in sight." And there are times when I load up my schedule with every hour accounted for, my life so tightly wound that one little mishap will leave me completely frazzled and hopelessly, wretchedly late and unable to catch up.<br />
<br />
The problem is, as a society, we tend to be addicted to extremes. We have television shows featuring all manner of extremes: people losing extreme amounts of weight, "xtreme" fighting, people documenting survival in extreme environments (Survivorman, Man vs. Wild), the eating of extreme foods, and then there are all the shows with extreme in their name: Extreme Makeover, The Most Extreme, and don't forget Extreme Couponing!!!<br />
<br />
I wonder if our instant-gratification, over-stimulated and comfort-driven lifestyles have numbed us to the satisfaction and joys that can come from simple, honest living? If my "normal" life has become dull and mundane because my senses are accustomed to getting whatever I want, whenever I want it, and I am always trying to make my life better, then how can I find delight in the ordinary? Too often, I'm seeking the next high - and in doing so, I battle the extremes in my lifestyle that come from an underlying dissatisfaction with my present circumstances.<br />
<br />
We are 51 days into a 366 day year. (That's about 14% of the year.) Today also marks the first day of Lent for many people, as we approach the Easter season. There seems to be a lot of personal-assessment going on around me, and I imagine it has a lot to do with our proximity to the near year. By now, you're either cruising along, satisfied with the success of your New Year's resolutions, or you're beating yourself up over your sucky-ness at screwing up yet another perfectly good year. As tempted as I am to check-mark the boxes of where I'm doing well, and berate myself over the areas where I feel I'm floundering, I know I shouldn't because I'd only be fueling my tendency to implement extreme measures. (Yes... I've eaten WAY too much chocolate this week, this month... this year. That doesn't mean I need an extreme diet to counter it.)<br />
<br />
What I am proposing is a pull-back from the hunger and desire for something bigger, better, faster, thinner, sweeter, or richer... ultimately that craving that simply says: <i><b>I NEED </b><b>MORE</b></i>. Instead, I will seek to find contentment and satisfaction in my daily routine. I will choose to be more grateful in the midst of my circumstances. I will stop and smell the flowers - or maybe just the sticky sweet syrup in my toddler's hair. I will find joy in the simple satisfaction of a neatly folded pile of clean laundry. I'll thank God for the busyness of a household of healthy, active children, and the fact that I am blessed enough to spend my days at home with all of them.<br />
<br />
Instead of hiding my boredom, stress or sadness with unnecessary indulgence, and instead of setting myself up for failure with all manner of goals and resolutions as I seek to change myself and my life in a really big (a.k.a. "extreme") way... I'm going to aim lower...much, much lower. I'm going to attempt to be happy right where I am, just the way I am. I'm going to work at being happy with my life and my family and not fuss about trying to make everything better all the time.<br />
<br />
Dream big...? Nah, not me.<br />
<br />
Shoot for the stars? No way.<br />
<br />
Instead of setting my sights on extraordinary things, I'm going to get my head out of the clouds, calm down, and be glad that today is just another ordinary day. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it" (Ps. 118:24) </i><br />
<i>"In everything give thanks" (1 Thess. 5:18)</i></blockquote>
<br />
<br /></div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-52785542460511772652012-02-17T16:26:00.000-07:002012-02-17T16:28:53.935-07:00The Journey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Life is not a competition.<br />
<br />
If it were however, I could measure myself by my weight, pace per mile when running, number of kids that I have, choice of education for my children, our household income, the size of our home, and how many tropical vacations we've been on in the past 5 years. I could judge my success by how well behaved my children are when we're out in public, by how "healthy" or "gourmet" I can cook, and by whether I have the latest style handbag hanging on my shoulder.<br />
<br />
On a more serious note, if life were a competition, I'd pay close attention to how many times I've cried this month, how many times I've yelled at my kids and whether I'd volunteered enough of my time for selfless endeavors. I'd wonder if I had put enough effort into my relationships with my children, my husband and with God.<br />
<br />
The problem is, when you're in a competition (and I'm not... at least that's what I'm telling myself daily), you have to COMPARE yourself to other.. well, competitors. Then all this nasty sort of self-talk wells up inside; things like: "She's definitely fatter than me, look at those chunky thighs..." or "That woman must have had a tummy-tuck.. there's no way she's had a couple of kids and been able to bounce back to that shape!" or "I would never homeschool my kids with that curriculum!" or "Man, their house is way newer and nicer than ours..."<br />
<br />
Then, on an even deeper level, you might begin to compare your successes in your personal and emotional life; particularly your ability or inability to maintain sanity in the midst of work, kids, marriage, etc.<br />
<br />
And when we compare ourselves among ourselves... we either deceive ourselves and can fall in to pride, or we simply fall short.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="versetext" id="2co10-12" style="display: inline;"><i>For we dare not class ourselves or compare ourselves with those who
commend themselves. But they, measuring themselves by themselves, and
comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise. ~ 1 Corinthians 10:12</i></span></blockquote>
<span class="versetext" id="2co10-12" style="display: inline;"></span><span class="versetext" id="2co10-12" style="display: inline;">Oh how true it is... The only measuring stick I ought to use is that of my conscience; as I stand before the Father God. Yet even in that instance, I must be grounded in the truth and light and in the hope of His grace. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="versetext" id="2co10-12" style="display: inline;">A thought came to me the other day: Don't compare the journey if you're riding a different train...</span><br />
<span class="versetext" id="2co10-12" style="display: inline;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8A_eS5zvZi1zBTknWo0UThGoxLPleDIskH5dZKKjonXx03mk9TzjrV8aK16mkwuVBKNRLPbxycQrbIQBLlmPecXQhhSbIoK5HJ4KT2FIS8mGfksJAMw1nhuD1fH7piP6exd5FeA65ncs/s1600/train-tracks-merge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8A_eS5zvZi1zBTknWo0UThGoxLPleDIskH5dZKKjonXx03mk9TzjrV8aK16mkwuVBKNRLPbxycQrbIQBLlmPecXQhhSbIoK5HJ4KT2FIS8mGfksJAMw1nhuD1fH7piP6exd5FeA65ncs/s1600/train-tracks-merge.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(photo from: http://thebigrocks.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="versetext" id="2co10-12" style="display: inline;">The fact is, life is a journey, not a competition. And we are all traveling on different paths, using different methods of transportation. You might be in a sports car, an SUV, on an airplane or in a helicopter. For now, I'm stuck in a fully occupied, 8-seater minivan with crumb filled car seats, candy wrappers on the floor, and a stroller in the back. I have to slow down quite a bit for my passengers... pit-stops, potty breaks and sometimes to stretch our legs and get our wiggles out. It would be ridiculous for me to compare myself to anyone else, especially when we likely have entirely different destinations.</span><br />
<span class="versetext" id="2co10-12" style="display: inline;"></span></div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-83083068513925687682012-02-08T17:15:00.000-07:002012-02-08T20:27:44.829-07:00Grocery Store Grief<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I felt at least half a dozen pairs of eyes on me as I struggled to make it through the self-checkout today at the store. Two little boys proved to be just too much on this mid-afternoon, should be nap-time and there's-no-more-cookies-to-bribe-with shopping trip. With exasperation, I roughly and sternly shoved my two-year-old back into his seat in the cart for the fourth time since I started to check out my groceries. One more can scanned, then I whipped myself around and grabbed my toddler's sweater to keep him from tumbling out of the cart.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrVjkDnV8QpndWsX3juCOoDAXzcfY33R_8lrDGLHk7U1MhBYFALHMYSxh9D5sUDUB9obRCL9qzZdsfPTiDUnhQk4DTYtdgI3FTXg5Yc5moSJLDk5mpH-I6MP63jOXXZ5Ik6ML1XBTeX0/s1600/boys+shopping+feb+12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrVjkDnV8QpndWsX3juCOoDAXzcfY33R_8lrDGLHk7U1MhBYFALHMYSxh9D5sUDUB9obRCL9qzZdsfPTiDUnhQk4DTYtdgI3FTXg5Yc5moSJLDk5mpH-I6MP63jOXXZ5Ik6ML1XBTeX0/s320/boys+shopping+feb+12.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>
Caught in the moment; just trying to purchase some food, I barely noticed the smiling clerk as she took a moment to talk with my busy three year old and answer his question: "Excuse me... are clocks expensive?"<br />
<br />
"Ummm. Yes." she replied seriously, and then listened patiently as he explained all the things he wanted to do and to receive on his upcoming birthday. That was nice of her.<br />
<br />
But I was trapped in my own little cycle - raging war against the most determined, stubborn, grumpy, acrobatic two-year-old that I've ever given birth to... my challenging last-born child who keeps me on my toes as I protect him from himself. (Like all the times he finds knives on the countertop and plays with them... or found a wineglass, broke it, and then cut himself trying to fill it with water... all by climbing up on the counter.)<br />
<br />
I felt like racing out of the store, strapping both kids in the van and just screaming for a moment or two - and then maybe I would pick up a self-medicating Caramel Latte at Starbucks, but I<i><b> needed </b></i>these groceries! Not only that, but I couldn't slow down - there were people behind me and it was taking so long; this tango - back and forth of scanning an item, then turning and dealing with my toddler - and I was going to be late to pick up my older kids!<br />
<br />
Eventually... finally, I swiped my credit card on the pay pass scanner, pushed my toddler back onto his bottom in the proper seat, called to my wandering three-year-old and we raced out of the store to load the groceries and hopefully not be more than a few minutes late to pick up the other children.<br />
<br />
Sigh... it seems that in this season of life, so many of my days are like this. I read the magazines and books and listen to other mothers speak on encouraging programs such as<i> Focus On The Family</i>, and they tell me: "Simplify! Slow down! Take time for yourself!" but all the advice in the world can't seem to give me the steam I need to accomplish the necessary and I am caught in this hurried whirlwind of life, watching the pages of the calendar flip before my eyes in fast-forward.<br />
<br />
In the end, after the groceries were mostly unpacked and the perishables were put away and the banana peels littered the dining room table and the little kids were put into their beds so Mommy could have a quiet-time, I realized that I forgot something. Maybe I could have asked for help? No... I don't mean I should have turned around to the customer behind me and asked them to watch my kids for a minute while I scanned my groceries, although it may have worked, considering there were a lot of seniors shopping that afternoon and they always seem intent on chatting with my kids (even when I'm in a hurry). But that's not what I'm talking about... something - or maybe Someone - was trying to remind me that a simple heartfelt prayer, such as "HELP!" and turning my focus heavenward to a God who cares about even the little things, could make a difference in my day. <br />
<br />
It's easy to feel alone in your struggles when you are the one with the unending list that won't change until your kids grow up and leave home. Even after that milestone, I imagine, there are hurries, worries and stresses that can plague you and leave you emotionally harried. I guess what we (what I) need to remember is that you don't have to do it all on your own. God's love is like a reassuring hand on the shoulder, a gentle reminder that His faithfulness will not fail and that his mercy is freshly available like each new day when the sun slips up and over the horizon. Life may not change significantly when a prayer is offered up in desperation - it doesn't mean that the laundry will be magically folded, dinner will be on the table and an angelic being will come down and scrub your toilets for you. However, I believe that with the asking, and with the acknowledgement of a need for God's presence, there will be a provision of strength for the day. Like manna from heaven, God's provision is usually just enough, just on-time and leaves you still needing Him when you wake up the next morning.<br />
<br />
Naptime is about to be over. Dinner is yet to be made. The house is a mess. Okay, I can easily acknowledge that I'm not on top of my game. So... here goes...<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>God...please help me.</b></i></blockquote>
</blockquote>
</div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-391427046538996356.post-62952015978860241802012-02-07T16:53:00.000-07:002012-02-07T16:53:47.862-07:00Miniature Successes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Sometimes you have to be content with the miniature, everyday successes in life.<br />
<br />
I did a load of laundry.<br />
I gave my youngest two kids a bath and they had a fun time playing together, in the tub.<br />
I whipped up a batch of dough for Naan bread.<br />
I didn't stay in my p.j.s all day, despite feeling tired, cranky and under the weather.<br />
I didn't eat too much chocolate. Wait... hold on, is there such a thing as too much chocolate?<br />
As much as I'd like to conquer the world, write a book, be a genius teacher to my kids as I homeschool, and exhibit myself as a domestic goddess day after day... it just doesn't happen.<br />
At least, in the end, I can be content in one thing:<br />
I am accepted in the Beloved.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Y7LSdt_OlQolBAtx8rG52bfq8mbvlc3_Rx8DxcS9W9m96oeXuWNEOxQwcRtsQq6KH_NP3wzrJYQzZZx3qBsDdcm_CH9gyBRS-6s8v2gh14LdjP7aIjCjqTLAMeLuSRkmxyr0oEyVcdI/s1600/ben+ezra+feb7+12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Y7LSdt_OlQolBAtx8rG52bfq8mbvlc3_Rx8DxcS9W9m96oeXuWNEOxQwcRtsQq6KH_NP3wzrJYQzZZx3qBsDdcm_CH9gyBRS-6s8v2gh14LdjP7aIjCjqTLAMeLuSRkmxyr0oEyVcdI/s320/ben+ezra+feb7+12.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<span class="versetext" id="eph1-6" style="display: inline;"> "to the praise of the glory of His grace, by which He made us accepted in the Beloved." Ephesians 1:6 </span></div>happymummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16952893202336616694noreply@blogger.com0