The Journey of Mommyhood

Exploits of Mommyhood has reached it's 100th post!

Initially, I started this blog on April 23, 2007 as an online journal; a place to capture my feelings and thoughts as I tread the waters of being a wife and mother in this hectic, challenging world.  With ketchup smeared on my shoulder, a baby on my knee and children racing through the house pretending to be dogs (barking loudly and shrilly, I might add) I began to chronicle the hidden channels of my heart.

What started out as intermittent respite from peanut butter and jelly, chasing butterflies and tending to dishes, diapers and other disastrous events, has grown into a continual reprieval from my daily duties whereby I commit my life to observation via the internet, with the intent of learning more about myself and how to best serve God in my role as mom, wife and friend. 

Back in 2007, I was the mother of merely 4 children - although another pregnancy was in the works.  Sadly, my second month of blogging would see me processing through the grief of a miscarriage, leaving me raw and disillusioned, but maintaining openness and honesty to the few friends who read my blog.  Now I am the mother of 6, with preteen children, all the way down to my "almost toddler" baby of the family (who has stubbornly refused to walk for months).  To add further excitement and challenge to our lives, it should be noted that my husband and I are beginning our third year of pastoring, placing our lives on stage for constant scrutiny and continual (mostly welcome) intrusion.  This career is something I certainly didn't foresee, yet it blends well with our sense of adventure and our love for community.

So just what are "Exploits of Mommyhood"?  I thought I'd use this post to give a definitive answer to the name of my blog.

If there is one message and motto that I want to get across through my blogging, it is this:   

Your circumstances may define you, but do not let them limit you. 

Just because I'm the proverbial stay-at-home mom, swamped with the activities, cares and concerns of 6 youngsters, doesn't mean that I limit my thinking to the confinement of life within the four walls of my home.

I make it a practice to think outside of the box.  Yes, you can define me as a married-with-children woman, but that doesn't mean I live in sweat pants, eat K-D and Drive-thru Mickey D's all the time, and live my life through my kids.  I am continually seeking the adventure within my situation, or I at least attempt to laugh at myself after I get over the initial shock and horror at the adventures that befall me continually on this journey.  (Just as I was writing this blog, my 9 year old son was taking a bath in my "big tub".  I told him that once he was clean behind the ears, and his hair was washed, he could turn on the jets for a few minutes (as a treat).  Moments later, I heard a forceful spraying and splashing sound and water was shooting upwards, out of the tub like an opened fire hydrant!  Apparently, he had turned all of the jets into an upward facing position, so they were sending the water out of the tub, and all over the floor!  I had a big freak out for a couple moments, got my pants completely soaked as I fumbled to reach the button that turns the jets off, then mopped up the puddles of water and walked away, shaking my head and attributing the whole situation to the fact that this was one of those "boy" things, and at least nothing was wrecked!)

When I say that circumstances define me, I am acknowledging the obvious in life.  Yes, I am female.  Yes, I am married... I wake up every morning next to a wonderful man who promised to be by my side til one of us is no longer.  Also, I am quite overwhelmingly and obviously a mother if the comments that I get at Wal-Mart and Superstore hold any merit.  "Wow, you've got your hands full!" and "Oh... you must be busy!" and the good one... "Have you figured out what causes that yet?!"  Thank you.  I needed that.

After about the 4th kid, I realized I could handle these remarks in a couple of different ways.  I could get snappy and say "What's your problem?  Have you NOT figured out how to cause this yet?" or "You must be pretty pathetic if you can't handle more than one child..."  But of course, I am generally sweet-natured and wouldn't say something so menacing.  Instead, I've found the adventure in having a large family and I've embraced it.  I usually reply to people these days with "It's so much fun to have a big family!" or "There's always someone to love and spend time with in my family!"   In my circumstance I am merely a mother of many children. Yet, my perspective has reached far beyond the circumstances into believing the best and joyfully embracing the life (and children) with whom I've been blessed.

Let's look in further detail what it is that I've ascribed to an uphold in my not-so-normal life.

World English Dictionary

exploit
— n
1.	a notable deed or feat, esp one that is noble or heroic
— vb
2.	to take advantage of (a person, situation, etc), esp unethically or unjustly for one's own ends
3.	to make the best use of: to exploit natural resources

Let me be clear:  although my children may say that I exploit them on a continual basis, specifically with cleaning, doing dishes, laundry and... gasp... the fact that they must clean their own rooms; I would venture to say that I do not subscribe to the 2nd listed definition of "exploit".  (There is really nothing unethical or unjust going on in my home!)  

So let's look at the first and second meanings... "a notable deed or feat ", and "to make the best use of ".  I'm amazed at how things can turn out despite my circumstances.  You might think that you are tired, weak, ignorant and insignificant.  You may feel that you are only worth as much as the style of your clothes, the shape of your body and the price tag on your home; additionally you may measure yourself according to whether your children speak 2 languages, excel in school and are involved in all the right extracurricular activities.  I've been there! I've lived in that mindset and swallowed the lie - hook, line and sinker.  This is where the exploits come into the situation.  I feel called to more - despite my situation or circumstances.  In fact, I know that I'll be having fun and enjoying life and embracing the adventure whether my bank balance is zero or two hunderd thousand dollars.

For me to be committed to the idea "Explots of Mommyhood" refers to the fact that I can look past lil' ol' me and see the blessing of opportunity.  When we had the opportunity to buy a gutted house, and my husband warned me that it would be an immense amount of work and that I would have to put up with a lot of mess and challenge - I became a visionary and imagined my kids happily camped out in the basement of the house, with stud walls and signs of heavy construction all around them - but the opportunity to stay up late giggling and becoming better buddies with each other.  It was indeed a larger project than any sane family would take on, but I also found myself counting my blessings throughout the ordeal and developed a heart of thanksgiving. 

As I sit here in my bedroom, typing away on my computer with a lovely king-sized bed next to me, painted walls and soft carpet beneath my feet, it still only takes me a moment to conjure up the images of what this room once was like (just 17 months ago).  We slept on a double mattress on the floor.  There was no drywall seperating our room from the view of the rest of the house.  The floors were littered with sawdust and wiring.  Boxes were piled up with the necessities, including kitchen gear which we could not use - except when we cooked on the hotplate in our future kitchen (that lacked a kitchen sink, cupboards, countertops...)  Oh, and our fridge was plugged in and set up in our bathroom (which also had no walls!).  So how on earth did I survive?  I thought of what was to come.  I embraced the absurdness of this adventure that I was powerless to change.  And, on top of that, I knew that what I had: a warm place to sleep and a bed and food - was more than many people in the world have on a daily basis.

Exploits.   Making the ordinary extraordinary. 

In simplicity what I'm trying to describe is all a matter of perspective.  I can touch the lives around me with a love and passion for God, and persistent, unselfish care for others or I can bury my head in the sand of my circumstances and let them be the judge of who I will become.

Whether or not others will follow me on this journey, and whether or not people will continue to read my posts, I'm stuck on this regime of impassioned adventure.  Mommyhood at it's best and worst... expressed on a simple website for me to creatively articulate;  wide open and honest; available for your consumption in hopes that I may touch your heartstrings, give you something to laugh about and maybe allow you learn from my Exploits of Mommyhood.

Riding With An Apostle

My teenager-rooted dreams of being dangerous, rebellious and cool were lived out in a simple 2 1/2 hour motorbike ride on the back of a Harley.  I donned a black bandana over my hair in attempt to cover up my urban-housewife/soccer mom persona, and glared a little at the camera as my husband took a snapshot before I put on my motorcycle jacket and helmet.

My brother is part of a Christian motorcycle "gang" called the Apostles and has the leather jacket with their symbol boldly proclaiming his elite status.  He also has all the proper gear: leather chaps, a cool skull-cap style helmet with skulls decorating it,  along with tattoos and earrings to further enhance his already tough demeanor (which is hardly required in the first place, considering his build and height).  Now, for the unfortunate part.  Before I popped onto the Harley behind him, my husband dutifully (and with moderate concern) wanted to ensure my safety and dressed me in his sporty motorcycle jacket that has a protective interior designed to help in the event of a crash.  I also wore his full-face helmet (much safer than my brother's type of helmet).  Basically, I was the preppy version of a biker - more like a causal, city biker who rides around on Hondas instead of Harleys (this being the type of bike that is often known as  a "crotch rocket"), and I did not look the part of being a member of a dangerous biker gang.

Yet, I was still caught up in the excitement as I climbed behind my big brother and he took the bike from 0-50 km in about 4 seconds (or so it felt) as we raced away from my pretty little life on our quiet city street.  I was on the back of a Harley.  I was one of "them".  Soon I forgot my own attire, and melted into the black leather in front of me, my eyes drinking in the sight of blurring vehicles and trees beside us, my ears filled with the roar of the bike and the wind that whipped against my helmet.

After an enjoyable ride on the highway, we entered Calgary and from time to time passed other bikers on the road.  I felt a sense of haughty pride as my brother signaled a nonchalont two finger salute/wave to the other tough bikers as we swept past each other.  We were the cool bikers now!  At one point, we stopped at a traffic light and I peered over at the passengers of the car next to us.  They seemed to avert their gaze, intent on looking forward and not messing with the biker dude... and me, of course!

Really, I've often felt the same way - I mean, who wants to incur the wrath of a biker?  What if he's a Hell's Angel and you look at him the wrong way, and he takes you down?  Usually, I'm just a petite, casually dressed "soccer mom" (not that my kids play soccer", but I drive the mini-van) and if you were to pick the most vulnerable looking target, that just might be me!  Not that I'm vulnerable... I've got some street smarts, I'm tough, and I wouldn't go without a fight.  Yet... that little sense of caution and niggling fear occasionally creeps in whenever I pull up to a group of bikers on the road or in the parking lot of 7-11.  But for now, if only for a few hours... I was one of them!

As the passenger, I didn't have a lot of say concerning the direction we were headed - I figured we were on our way to my brother's house to get some rest before our big trip to Ottawa.  Yet, he suddenly took a detour from the route towards his house and went off the main drag and soon we were swerving through traffic in the sketchy part of Calgary (Dover, of all neighborhoods).  I began to wonder just what was in store.  We turned down an alley and screamed to the end of it, stopping behind a group of fourplexes... you know, just the kind of neighborhood where pleasant middle-class families and their sweet children live (NOT!).  My brother parked,  nonchalantly eased his burly, bad-ass, leather-clad-self off of the bike and told me he'd be back in a couple minutes.  I watched as he approached a nearby house and was rightfully disturbed and filled with concern at the sight of a large biker-dude who opened his door and started to talk to my brother. "Crap!"  I thought... "I sure hope this guy doesn't mess with my bro.." but that thought was interuppted swiftly when the tough biker dude, whom I thought was a pretty big guy, stepped off of the porch onto the sidewalk next to my brother and I could then see that my brother was a good 6 inches and 60 pounds bigger than him!  "Ha ha..." I chuckled to myself with relief, "I'm with the big guy!"

So apparently this dude was a friend, and my brother chatted with him for a few more moments before returning to his Harley (and me, his little sister).  Once again, he started his bike with a tremendous roar, and we raced off to... home?

Again, we were headed in the right direction, and I relaxed, thinking that this ride was nearly complete.  Then, the unexpected happened: just ahead of us, in the parking lot of an A&W was a crowd of bikers.  Black leather dominated the terrain with big bikes, new bikes and older antique bikes decorating the lot.  At first, I was mildly curious about this event.  After all, I was the passenger on the back of a pretty sweet ride.  The more I looked around though, the more concerned I became as I suddenly realized that I wasn't one of them.  I was the preppy kid caught up in a crowd of metal-heads.  I was the cat, lost in a dog-pound.  Everyone, and I mean everyone else was wearing black leather and I had my safety suit - nylon black and blue jacket with the full-face helmet.  It's like when the neighborhood kids are out playing street hockey and your mom makes you wear all the padding and safety gear from head to toe and everyone else is just in shorts and t-shirts.  Suddenly I didn't feel quite so cool and the thrill of my previous journey evaded me.  I'm good at putting on a facade however, so I just played the part and followed my brother around as he talked shop to the other bikers.  It wasn't too long before we sought a bite to eat in the A&W and I eventually forgot my discomfort.

That pretty much concludes my stint as a biker-chick.  If there was any lesson to be learned, it would be this:

When you're riding behind the right person, you've got nothing to worry about.  Believe me, they're looking at the big guy in front of you, especially since you are a shrimp compared to him.  It doesn't matter if you don't have it all together.  It doesn't matter if you don't feel tough enough, strong enough, smart enough... just relax and let the driver do the swift maneuvering and aggressive driving (all the while being street-wise with the proper dialogue and secret hand signals), and you'll be fine.

If you haven't put two and two together yet, I'm relating my experience to life with Jesus.  To put it simply, when you put Him in charge of your life, you're like the passenger on the back of a Harley.  You can rest in the fact that it's His reputation and strength and ability that will get you where you need to go.  Just grab onto the smooth, black leather in front of you and enjoy the ride.

A Beautiful Encounter

I felt the familiar whisper of His presence today.

A velvety, silver-blue ribbon stretched across the horizon where land blurred and met with the calm of the azure sky.  The prairies were a rippling, living carpet of energetic green, and a flock of ducks scattered in flight, their wings beating rhythmically, with musical cadence, as if they heard my adoration and shared my heart of worship to the Creator.  And one cried to another and said: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; The whole earth is full of His glory!" (Isaiah 6:3)  Yes, indeed, the whole earth is full of His glory.

The skies were painted majestically with broad strokes in translucent shades of blue.  Whipped puffs of cloud blanketed the south, fading over the westerly mountains into delicate swirls of pure white.  A lone eagle soared effortlessly over a valley, with wondrous calm and liberty.

I was alone with the wind whipping around me, speeding down the highway on the back of a motorcycle - yet I was surrounded, and effortlessly gliding through God's splendor of creation.  His artistry permeated my senses as waves of color lay banquet to my eyes, the essence of clover and freshly mown grass tickled my nose and my body was pressed back into my seat by the billows of wind that swirled forcibly against me.

My mp3 player seemed in tune with my emotions, as the words "come, take me away with you" and "I belong to you..." melodically flowed and washed over my soul like a healing balm. (Both from the album "Songs In Secret" by Great Awakening)

Radiant beams from thy holy face... sunbeams streamed down; warming my wind-chilled legs and I lifted my closed eyes, allowing the caress of pure light to cascade over my countenance.

Perfectly safe.   Perfectly complete.

I'm grateful for these bursts of oblivion, where all else is forgotten and the cares of the world are trailing somewhere far behind. 

Moments with Jesus. 

Peace.  Strength for the weary, bread for the hungry.  You give me water, so I will never thirst again.

In a world so vast, I am a creature so small and insignificant, yet He shows me His love in so many ways.

Just one response - no other will suffice.

thank you

On the Road With Ma, Pa, and My Big Bro

I'm about to climb on the back of a motorbike with a burly, 6 foot 4, bearded, tattooed biker guy, and race up the highway to cow-town.  I may even play the part and find a leather jacket to wear with my skinny jeans, change my nose-stud to a hoop and put a black bandana over my hair. 

My Big Brother

 It's the beginning of a family adventure that has the makings of a bizzarre indie film that explores the complexities of family dynamics over a decade after the kids have grown up, moved out and lived their own lives. 

I'll be flying "back east" to Ontario with my Ma, Pa and big brother as we take a whirlwind trip to celebrate my Grandpa's 90th birthday and have a family reunion.

 I grew up calling my parents "Ma" and "Pa", just like in the Little House on the Prairie series.  My mom and dad enjoyed the wholesomeness of the popular television series, with Michael Landon as "Charles" and decided that they wanted to be homey and traditional and have us call them by the same  moniker.

So here I am wondering:  What on earth will it be like to cram the next 5 days with constant interaction with my parents and brother?  Will it be awkward?  Will we annoy each other to death?  Will I get bored, lonely, angry, or frustrated?  Keep in mind that I left home about 13 years ago or 4745 days + 3 leap year days, which equals 113, 952 hours of life where I've plotted my own course, made my own choices and adjusted my personal affinities to live life with my husband and develop our own family culture.  I was practically a child when I left home, and I've changed a lot!

Yet... these are the people that brought me into this world, diapered me, clothed me, fed me and taught me the basics of life.  I carry their DNA.  And if we're going to compare the years, days and hours, then these are the people with whom I spent the first 18 years or 6574 days or 157, 776 hours of my life, from birth to moving out, after a year of college and getting married.  Surely that speaks for the bond that lies in the deep, inner space of our hearts?

At any rate, this is certain to be an adventure.  Whether we fight, laugh, pout or become ridiculously bored with one another, we're bound to make some memories to last a lifetime.

Though I am certain to miss my husband and kids, and I prefer not to be away from them, I'll look on the bright side of things.  No diapers, dishes or whining (expect for my own whining) for the next 5 days!

Stay tuned for my thrilling, weird and wild adventures...

The Pursuit of Joyfulness

I love moments of delirium, when everything is hilarious and jokes flow as easily as ice cream melts and dribbles down a toddler's chin on a hot August day.  These moments just don't occur often enough - and for me, this doesn't happen on normal days, but is more often the result of too much sugar coupled with too little sleep.

Show me a bottle with some florescent yellow-colored happy pills (yes, they have to be bright yellow), and I'd be the first one in the room to pop one into my mouth.  Now, I'm not saying I'd take illegal drugs...but... for some reason I tend to look at and focus on the negative side of things, seeing the glass half empty when it's really half full.

There are all sorts of satisfaction-enhancing systems, products and activities in our society today, all designed to make oneself happier.

Chocolate bars, according to one heart-disease-prevention website, can make both me and my heart happy.  Sounds like a fantastic form of therapy, doesn't it?  I've been taking this sort of medicine for years!

Exercise is scientifically proven to release endorphins which flood your body with both contentment and energy.  Check.

Starbucks is the "Queen" of coffee purveyors, promising to deliver caffeine (and sugar) "However you want it".  Good thing I own a Starbucks espresso machine, so I can find satisfaction without even leaving the comfort of my home.

Along this idea of pursuing joyfulness, I've made it a habit to become friends with bubbly people.  Sometimes you just need to hang out with a wild, rambunctious giggler who can find fun in every  moment.  Sounds a little like my husband, minus the giggling.

So I've tried the proper diet (chocolate and caffeine included), exercised, and surrounded myself with shiny, happy people.  Yet, where's the joy? Could it be that joy is something you cannot purchase, ingest or manufacture artificially?

This is not what I like to hear.  I'm naturally lazy.  I don't want to have to change myself - I'd prefer someone flips a switch and fixes my issues.  However, the idea of a happier, more joyful outlook entices me.  I'm listening... what should I do?

In my devotional this morning (which I read in the only private room of the house, if you can guess where that is) I learned how joy dwells inside of you, waiting for activation that only you can initiate.  So we're back to the fact that my emotional state is my responsibility and should not be determined by other people or my circumstances?  Groan.  Sigh.  Alright, let's continue.

I believe that joy, just like love and patience is primarily a choice.  Furthermore, joy is one of the fruits of the Spirit, so I would venture to say that we can draw upon joy in the same way we draw upon peace when life is confronting us with fear or discouragement.  I have long since learned the lesson of peace after many years fraught with emotional ups and downs that sprout from human existence in an imperfect world.  Peace, I've found, comes easily when you turn your situations and most of all your heart, over to God in utter dependence.  What about joy, then?

Joy is typically a product of gratefulness.  Joy comes from seeing the good, counting your blessings and cherishing the positive elements in your life.  Yet, there are times in life when nothing seems bright, you can't see the silver lining in the rainclouds and you lack the energy to even open your eyes and search for some sort of blessing to acknowledge.  When all else fails, and everything seems to SUCK, there's still a possibility for joy.  If joy comes from the Lord, and you've received Jesus into your life, then joy is accessible not by earthly means but is more spiritual in nature.

This may very well be as simple as saying (or singing) "I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart... (WHERE?) Down in my heart... to stay.  And I'm so happy, so very happy, I've got the love of Jesus in my heart!"  Sounds ridiculous?  I don't think it is as childish as it seems.  This is the sort of joy that comes from the fact that Jesus loves me and accepts me with all my weird habits - like the fact that I always have to open chip bags from the bottom and I can't use a bathroom without drawing back the shower curtain (you never know if someone is hiding in there!).  Even the simple knowledge that He accepts me despite my faults is enough to spring a well of joy within my heart.  It's kind of like when you pick up your grubby, muddy toddler and he gives you a contagious belly laugh that warms you from head to toe - that is real, pure joy.  The sort of joy I'm talking about runs deep - deeper than your circumstances and hurts, discouragement and exhaustion.

Activate joy today.  You don't need money, honey or even your hunny to make you happy (ya, ya, that's pretty lame, I know!) - Just remember, the joy of the Lord is your strength.  (Nehemiah 8:10)

Full of Joy...

Be Fragrant

Several years back, when my husband and I admitted to ourselves that marriage had caused us to gain a few pounds which were not entirely pregnancy related, we decided to change our diet.  Instead of looking at caloric intake or finding some fancy system to track our carbs/protien/fat.. etc., we instead decided to try eating a more ethnically eclectic diet.  For several years, our favorite food had been Italian which involved lots of pasta, breads and rich, creamy sauces.  Now, we began to venture into the world of Indian cuisine, experimenting with curries and dahls and chutney.  Soon our cupboards were stocked with colorful, fragrant spices and we quickly learned that tumeric should never be left on the counter, as it's deep yellowy orange color has the staining power of permanent ink!  At one point, our friends jokingly told us that they always knew when our family had arrived at church because they could smell the garlic!  We tried to accept that as a compliment.

Being a young family, we had a lot of friends with small children and one day, a friend of mine was going to drop her little girl off at our place to be looked after for a few hours.  Apparently, her daughter protested, saying that our house smelled funny!  Several months of cooking curries on a regular basis had taken their toll on our house and I guess the smell pretty much permeated the walls and curtains and was noticeable when you walked in the door!  (Good thing it was a rental property! Hee hee!)

Another pungent odor that I'd like to tell you about is relates to my husband.  Now, I know what you're thinking... and it's not what you think!  Ha ha!  Actually, the smell I'm talking about is that of wood-smoke.  My husband has long held the title of 'pyromaniac' and loves to build campfires and burn things.  That fits in quite well with family get-togethers because my older brother is quite passionate about fire as well!  A couple of years ago at Christmastime, our families were together and once the presents were opened and the women were busy in the kitchen, the men headed out to the backyard fire pit to get down to business.  Of course, all fires are more exciting when enhanced by some sort of dangerous fuel, and this event was no exception.  The boys, as I will call them in this scenario, built up for themselves a tower of wood and cardboard, slathered it with gasoline, stood back and threw in a match.  "POOOOF!"  The guys jumped back instinctively and then quickly regained their manly stance of fire technicians on a mission.  The flames of their fire probably rose to heights upwards of 10ft, and we were lucky that the neighbors were occupied with Christmas festivities indoors, and didn't call the fire department!  (Not that a friendly visit including a fire truck would be anything new to my husband and brother... they had quite the history when it came to building gigantic non-conforming campfires within city limits.)

When my husband came inside a short time later, to nibble on Christmas cookies and candy and nuts, I walked over to him and smelled a familiar smell.  "Mmm..." I said as I gave him a hug, "You smell like fire."

"Thank you!" he replied, with a twinkle in his eyes.   The format of this conversation has become a tradition for us -  due to my husband's love of fire, he feels greatly complimented when I comment that he smells of wood smoke.

Unfortunately, one thing I've noticed is that if you spend a great deal of time around a campfire, your clothing can take a very long time before the smell wears off.  There was one particular camping trip that my husband took in the winter and came home stinking like a campfire.  Due to the miserable weather and constant wind, he was encompassed by the smoke of his fire for hours as he and his friends cooked their dinner and sat around talking, late into the night.   When he returned home and walked in the door, I could smell the smoke from across the room!  I washed his sweater right away, but it still reeked of smoke and took another couple of washes before the odor disappeared completely.

You may be wondering how I got onto the topic of pungent fragrances,  and the thought process began quite recently, while I was running outdoors and found myself overcome by the heady, yet deliciously sweet scent of blooming lilacs, apple and cherry blossoms all through the neighborhood.  I instantly thought of the scripture "For we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing." from 2 Corinthians 2:15.

Just what sort of scent is "the fragrance of Christ"?  I imagine it to be an intoxicating perfume that entices you to inhale deep breaths of it's refreshing fragrance.  It's the kind of smell that you want to draw closer to, drench yourself with, and become surrounded by.  You will carry this aroma by spending time in the presence of the source of the fragrance - Jesus.

I could talk about how Christians often stink in the presence of the lost (and I don't deny that many Christians fail to walk in love and are often offensive with their hypocritical behaviour) yet, I think that would be taking this verse out of context, and in the wrong direction.  I really like how The Message translation phrases the verse:

Because of Christ, we give off a sweet scent rising to God, which is recognized by those on the way of salvation - an aroma redolent with life. 

On our own, we stink.  With Christ, we are drenched and baptized with a sweet smelling perfume - we're made clean and new from the inside-out. Just as I described in the previous paragraphs, you can absorb the scent of food or a campfire that you spend time around.  Jesus is the same.  The more we spend time in His presence, the more we are attuned to His love and character.  After a while, this permeates your life and is evident in the way you talk, and act, and overall in how you are perceived by others.

One last thought... I believe that the fragrance of Christ is characterized by joy.  Those who know God and set their hearts on Him live a blessed life and a contented life.  Psalm 16:11 is a favorite of mine which gives a persuading reason for seeking and experiencing the presence of God.  "You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore."  I want to know God, know the path of life and be filled with joy.  I can't think of a better way to live.

When the "How-To" Books Fail You...

 Desperate times call for desperate measures.  Let me tell you something about my history... my world has been a whirlwind since I graduated from high school almost exactly 14 years ago, and it shows no sign of calming or slowing down for the next decade or so.

From high school, I entered Bible College, and after completing one year of religious education,  I was engaged.  We married in the late fall, and thought we'd take a chance at "trying" to get pregnant just 2 1/2 months after our wedding.  I guess there was no such thing as "trying" because we didn't have to try at all - I became pregnant immediately!  Just 3 weeks before our first anniversary, our lives came to a screeching halt when our first wonderful, albeit strong-willed baby came into our lives and made us into a family.  It was rather like being at the top of the roller coaster, just before plunging down an enormously steep hill that includes some upside down twists and turns.  I wasn't exactly ready for the ride of my life - and I actually tended to look at marriage and parenting as being "a neat experience" or "the thing to do".  I'll even admit that in some ways, I had an immature understanding of life in the "real world".  I attribute my success, or probably better phrased: "survival", to my steadfast relationship with God that has revealed itself to be far more about Him holding onto me than me holding onto Him!

Following the birth of our first child, a cycle began which unveiled itself in the appearance of a new baby approximately every two years until we found ourselves with 3 girls and 3 boys, and the reality of a big, busy, but blessed family.  We've lived on the other side of the world, had home births, had financial catastrophes, and yet somehow have developed a sense of rhythm within chaos and now find ourselves in the rugged terrain of being in "the ministry" whilst raising our energetic brood.

So you can well imagine the stress and moments of panic which I encounter on occasion - like with my first pregnancy, and later when my husband was laid off from his job and we had two small children.  Other occasions where anxiety made it's presence known were when I realized I was unexpectedly pregnant with my fourth child as we prepared to move overseas, and more recently, the realization that I am living with...(drum-roll, please...) PRETEENS!  So what does an introspective, quiet person do with these situations?  Often I turn to books.  In this educationally rich culture, there's always a book telling you the precise way to handle your marriage, family, pregnancy, or imminent financial ruin.

I could list dozens of books that I've encountered over the years and show you many books on my shelves which unveil the best strategies, "4 Easy Steps", and the "One Weekend Makeover" to change your life!  While the knowledge contained in the pages of these inspirational reading materials is certainly of great value, and I am thankful for the wisdom of people who have walked through the battle before me, I feel that something is lacking.  I've applied the principles often, determining "once and for all" in my mind to change.  I've used the secret phrases designed to unlock the door to my child's respect and obedience.  I've even resolved to have "No More Headaches" like the marriage book promised it's principles would allow me to achieve - and yet... I still don't fail to frustrate myself with selfish behaviors and an overall disappointing track record when it comes to the relationships in my life.  Now, don't get me wrong - I'm not in crisis here!  I just know that when it comes to my marriage, my kids, and in general my LIFE... there is so much MORE!  We were designed to have incredible, fulfilling relationships - they are the basis of our very existence.  Yet we struggle with the petty and mundane every-day issues, along with the larger, painful-to-talk-about situations that inhibit intimacy and closeness and overall completeness in our lives.

This past weekend, I came to a sobering revelation while struggling with my bad attitude and irritability that was mostly induced by early mornings and late nights out attending a conference with my family.  As I sat frustrated on the couch, the words clearly came to me:  "There are no short-cuts."  Egad!  What did this mean?  And yet, deep down, I had the answer that I was seeking.  I felt a sense of firm conviction that brought both relief and panic, all at the same time.

I can figure out the methods and systems.  I can apply all the principles.  I can go to that "week-end getaway" designed to refresh, encourage and resolve me to be a better wife, mom, and woman.  But there are no short-cuts when it comes to true change.

Change comes when I get down on my knees and humbly submit myself before God.  You see, in that quiet time, He gains access to my heart and mind and will.  He can speak healing to the things that are broken, and He gently chastens me in the areas of my selfish nature.  He will give me His perspective when things don't seem to make sense.  He will grow within me a greater love for my husband, children, friends and even my enemies as I am filled and refreshed with His love.  This isn't attained by reading a book.  This isn't something you can learn.  This can only be acquired by patient, continual surrender in the presence of Jesus.  There's no possible short-cut to the peace, joy and love that can be received in His arms.  I can figure it all out in my mind, and determine to change my behavior - but it's my heart that needs to be fixed.

I began this posting with the phrase: Desperate times call for desperate measures.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm desperate to live a life of surrender.  No more 'trying to figure it out' and think my way through things.  My heart is in His hands.  Surrender... continually.