Give Me the Simple Life

When I was about nine-years-old my dad showed up at school one afternoon. He was about an hour early when he came to pick me and my little sister up.
"Where are we going, Daddy?" We both asked him.
"Well," he said as he held our hands, guiding us into the parking lot. "I have some things I need to drop off in Ashland and I knew we wouldn't get back in time for you girls so we thought we'd come pick you up from school."
Sure enough, Mom was in the front seat of our silver Honda Civic waiting for the three of us. This was a fun adventure for our little family. To drive all the way from Trail to Ashland would take the better part of an hour, but we didn't care. We chattered all the way as Daddy drove the car. It wasn't until we past the second exit that my mom realized we hadn't stopped yet.
"Rick, you just past the exit. Isn't that the one we were supposed to take?" She asked.
"Oh, well, I just thought that since we were headed this way that we would go to Disneyland too," he said.
"What?!?" We all screamed.
"You're kidding me?"
"Nope."
"What about our clothes?"
"Look in the back."
My sister, Kelly, and I whipped around and looked in the back of the car. In the back was a blanket and two big lumps under it. We yanked the blanket off and there sat our luggage. We went back to screaming with joy. Daddy had just given us the surprise of our little lives. We were going to Disneyland!

Do you know what's funny about that memory? I have forgotten much of that trip EXCEPT for the very beginning. I will always remember that day.

As a mom I long to recreate that memory with my own children, but times are tough right now as it is with everyone. I was reminiscing about this memory when I realized what made it so grand to go to Disneyland. Other then the fact that it's the happiest place on earth, it was also that it was a surprise.

I sometimes forget that the seemingly insignificant things in my mind can be very significant in my children's lives.

For example, another favorite memory was when we went to the Phil's Frosty, an ice cream shop, after dinner. We didn't do it often, but when we did it was always a sweet time on hot Summer evenings. There was also the times my mom and dad would pack for us girls and after church on Wednesday nights we would get the car and instead of driving home we would head south to Gramie and Papa's house in Santa Cruz. One summer evening when the church was in the process of being built we spent the night there. There was carpet on the flooring and doors, but no windows. We lived in a house that had no air conditioning and I think Mom and Dad were tired of sleeping in the sticky heat. That evening Mom or Dad had snuck sleeping bags into the hatch-back before we left for church. After the last member left they pulled out our bags and surprised us with an impromptu camp out. The wind picked up throughout the night and kept us cool as we slept soundly, together in one room.

As a little girl I didn't know money was scarce. Disneyland was a gift. There was no way we could have done that on my dad's income. Looking back now I realize how creative my parents were with what we did as a family. What we did was memorable because we were altogether as a family, making memories with what we were given.

I am comforted to know that the 'cheap' things we did are some of my most favorite memories and perhaps my children will remember those 'cheap' things we do with them. But I am also challenged in the ways I spend time with my children. I get so caught up in the things I want to do that involve money, but they would just as soon go to the park and throw a baseball to each other. I asked myself what if it isn't the big things in life that matter? What if its the small, daily adventures that will be cemented into their memories?

I still hold onto that dream of going to Disneyland with my children. I still desire to take a week trip to Hawaii with my hubby. Those are both fine dreams. But today I watched my children scream joyfully as they ran through the sprinklers at the local water park. I laughed as they zigzagged around the dumping water pails and then run back to the playground. It hit me, as it often does, how fast the kids were growing. In only a few short years they will be too old for these childish, yet wonderful, games. I've been married 13 short years. In another 13 years my baby girl will be 19 years old. Now I'm starting to feel old!

It's very possible that in the next fifteen to twenty years I could be sitting on that same park bench, watching my grandchild run through sprinklers. It hit me today that this was a sweet time in my life. Sure, life is stressful with bills, scheduling conflicts, and getting the kids to school on time. And that's on a good day!

Live is also short. Kids grow up. Its that whole 'circle of life' thing we were taught in The Lion King. I want to make memories with the time I have now. Maybe someday we can go to Disneyland as a family. Maybe not. What's important isn't where we go, but what we do as a family. Being together with our kids while they still want us around.  It's a walk around the neighborhood with Logan, a discussion with Garrett about heroes, It's a drive to Walmart with Trevor, or it's playing dress-up with Ellainna. These are the days to enjoy them. These are the memories I will treasure in my heart always.

This Day.....

I accomplished nothing today. I didn’t plan to do nothing, it just happened. I actually had a long list of housework duties to catch up on.

1. Gym – workout
2. Fold several loads of laundry
4. Wash dishes
3. Do several more loads of laundry
5. Sweep kitchen
6. Wash and fold more laundry
7. Vacuum

The list goes on and I had high hopes to get it all done. What I didn’t take into account were my four children. They all needed me. It wasn’t to help clean their rooms or finding play clothes, tying shoes, or finding a favorite toy. Today they just needed me, my time. They needed me to hug them, talk to them.

We looked at family pictures and I told them funny stories about them when they were babies. We read books together. Everywhere I went my two-year-old daughter toddled behind me, desiring just to be held.

So I gave up my plans to clean the house today. Instead I watched movies and read books with my children. I cuddled my sons and daughter. I sat down and ate dinner with them and laughed at their jokes and stories. And after I got them into bed I didn’t feel the relief I usually feel. Instead, I felt wonderfully happy because I spent time showing my children love by being with them.

Often I have looked at my two older boys and my heart aches to hold them as babies and kiss their sweet faces good night. I realize how fleeting time really is and the moments I have with them now will soon be a memory. I want to grab my children and hold onto them tightly because I know there will come a day when they will leave. Not too long ago I resented staying home. I felt like I was missing out on the fun and excitement of life. Sometimes I wished for a job outside the home just so I could get dressed up and accomplish something for that day. I longed for the days of homework from school because I knew that it wouldn’t mysteriously undo itself in the middle of the night like my housework always seems to do. But now I am seeing things in a different light. What is really important here?

The laundry will always be here. I might even catch up on it someday. The dishes will get done tomorrow, the same for sweeping the floor. But my babies won’t be babies very long. There will come a day when I will walk into my daughter’s room and I won’t be able to soothe her fears by rocking her and singing a song. Another day will come when I will enter my oldest son’s room only to see him packed and ready for college. Someday my little Trevor will be a groom waiting for his bride instead of the dimpled cheek boy with big green eyes I see every morning. Someday I may see my strong son, Garrett, in uniform and saluting his commander as he graduates from boot camp. Someday my house will be clean… and empty.

I know when those days come I won’t look back on good memories of how tidy and organized my house was. Instead, I will think of my children’s laughter when their daddy tickled them, early mornings when a little body would snuggle up next to me, and quiet moments rocking my daughter and singing her Cinderella songs. I will have these memories tucked away in my heart and I’ll just smile, even laugh a little, and be thankful for the sweet time I had my children all to myself.

I'm No Mrs.Cleaver

I grew up in the most classic of ways depicted by Leave it to Beaver and Daddy Knows Best. Daddy worked and Mom stayed home with us girls. She cooked, she cleaned, she even mowed the lawn a few times. I have wonderful memories of growing up in this family and, because we often watched old Leave it to Beaver reruns, I thought this was considered "normal".

Fast forward twenty-one years and I found myself vowing to love, cherish, and devote myself to a young, handsome man by the name of Josh Parr. I couldn't wait to pick up his socks and underwear, which I assumed smelled of roses, cook his meals, and clean the house. Well, that lasted all of five minutes after the honeymoon. Roses my ...never mind. I had no idea that marriage was going to be a lot harder than it looked from the outside. No wonder so many fairytales ended at the first kiss or with the prince and fair maiden galloping off into the sunset; it was a far more hopeful ending when you didn't show Cinderella browbeating Prince Charming for not picking up his dirty socks or wiping off the horse manure before he walked into the house.

Being the young, naive bride that I was, I didn't figure that picking up dirty laundry off the floor, chipping old food out of the pan, or making beds would ever get old. I had seen my mother do it for years and she had made it look effortless. What I had forgotten to take into account was that she also never sat down. When dinner was over she did the dishes until Kelly and I were old enough to chip in around the house. She and my dad both held to the theory that there was nothing worse than dirty dishes in the morning. We also made our beds every morning before even leaving the room, clothes were put away, breakfast dishes were put away, then Kelly and I were off to school. Every Saturday, like clockwork, was cleaning the house day or grocery shopping day. It was just the way things were done at our house. "A place for everything and everything in it's place."

My sister inherited my mom's gift for keeping house...I did not. At this very moment I am sitting at the kitchen table that has all kinds of stuff left over from the day. The living room is a mess, DVDs need to be put away, shoes are scattered everywhere, threatening the very lives of any would-be thieves who figured they could sneak in unobserved, and there's a stack of paperwork on the kitchen counter with two pizza boxes acting as paperweights. And yes, these things will all be picked up tomorrow morning. And yes, it will be this messy again by tomorrow night! And why, do you ask, am I up at 11:30-ish writing? Well, I'm killing time while Josh's lunch finishes cooking because I got too involved in a book and forgot to cook the dang chicken earlier.

You may also be wondering how in the world two type A personalities ended up with a complete type B child. I've been wondering the same exact thing myself. Was it to test their faith, test their resolve, keep them humble?...We may never know the answer to these all-important questions (this said snidely), but I believe that God is the great multi-tasker and has many reasons for placing me in this family and thus wrecking any sort of pride they may have had in how their daughters turned out. At least one of them is good at housekeeping...and I think they might be still praying for me in this aspect.

You may now be wondering about any unresolved issues I might have, but before you pull out the card with your therapist's name on it and offering to call them on my behalf, let me tell you what the Lord has been showing me over the past couple of years:
A) I am never going to be my mother. I am not being sarcastic now or even trying to be mean. She was truly gifted in keeping the house clean, being the helpmate my dad needed, having the house organized so he could find what he needed when he needed it. She also had a LOT of energy to do it all. Blame it on health issues or whatever, but I've never had the amount of energy she has had and still has today. She is a hard worker, and she has wonderful work ethics. I really respect her for those things. Unfortunately, I didn't inherit the energy that makes her capable to work so hard.
B) That is okay that I am never going to be my mother. This lesson has been a hard one to come to grips with. Because of what I grew up with, the ideals of the man going to work, the woman staying home with the children, I thought that anything less than that was considered failure, that I wasn't doing my job as a wife or mother if I was not cleaning, cooking, and caring for the children 24/7. But now I'm thinking my disorderly way of living doesn't automatically mean I'm a bad mother.
I forget sometimes that I'm the only mother my children have. They don't know what it's like to live in a home that is clean ALL the time, unless they stay the weekend at Grammie and Papa's house. They do chores here at our house, but it's more hit and miss then every hour on the hour. I'm getting much better at making them brush their teeth, but I forget the well-child check-ups until one of them needs to enroll in school.We rock out to Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" instead of singing along to "The wheels on the bus go round and round..." I worry that my yelling at other drivers in the Costco parking lot is teaching them bad driving manners and I've already had to talk with Elli about not using the 'D' word because it is in fact a bad word regardless of how many times mommy uses it throughout the week. I worry that my lack of attention to the mundane duties of housekeeping will scar them for life and I worry at least twice a month when I can't find that darn bill that I swore I put somewhere for safekeeping, or I'm late on paying a bill because I didn't pay attention to the due date for payments. I kick myself when I go to bed at night for the things I did and the mistakes I made, but where they as bad as I thought?
Are there bad mothers out there? Uh, yeah. The ones who do drugs, the ones who kill their children. So compared to them I'm not doing so bad.
And who are the good mothers? They are the ones who take care of their children as well as they can despite difficult circumstances. They are the mothers that cheer for their kids at athletic games, or school plays, or concerts, or ______ (fill in the blank). They are the mothers that teach their children to reach for the stars but also teach them how to lose because in life you're not going to win everything you go for and losing graciously is just as important as winning, if not more so. They are the women who work because their husbands need help or because they are the only ones left to do so. They are the women love their children and do what they can to show them how much they love them. They sit on benches at games and sometimes they talk to their children through glass partitions and by telephone because no matter how she parented the child still made his/her own decisions. They pray every night and every day for they wayward child, never giving up hope for them. These are the good mothers.

Often times I miss the mark when it comes to being a mother. I yell the kids, I forget to do laundry, I neglect the housework, and I've been known to forget a meal or two if I'm in the middle of writing something. But I also give them hugs when they least suspect it, and I laugh at their jokes or antics when I know their doing it for me. We sing loudly, and off pitch, in the car together. We cry together. And I sing to my daughter and pray with my sons at bedtime most of the time.
My daughter still tells me that I'm the best mother she's ever had and one of my sons told me that he'll love me the most even if he has another mom someday...um, thanks son. Do I make mistakes? All the time. Do I agonize over them? All the time. Do I wake up the next morning and try again? All the time.

I don't know about you, but I'll keep trying to be a good mom with every day I'm given. I may not be Mrs. Cleaver, the beds won't be made, and the clean laundry might get mixed in with the dirty laundry on occasion, but, by golly, I'll try my best to be a good mother for these four children the Lord has blessed me with, and pray, pray, pray for the wisdom in raising them everyday. And when I run into ruts I'll call my parents, my in-laws, my aunts or my uncles, and ask them how in the world I'm supposed to do this.

And someday, I hope, they will rise and call me blessed. I feel blessed by them already, in any case.

A Different Perspective...

Last night Josh and I sat down and watched the movie The Book of Eli. It is set in a post-apocalyptic world where murder, rape, lawlessness and chaos run free. In some ways it looked like those old spaghetti western films that John Wayne and Clint Eastwood made so famous back in the day. This story opens with a man named Eli (incidentally, the name Eli means 'My God'), walking west with a backpack as his only possession. For thirty years he has carried the very last Bible on the planet. He is on a mission, sent by God himself.

While this movie is not in my favorite genre to watch and it was definitely a downer with a very humanistic point of view, it did make me think of how far I would go to protect the Bible if it were the last one on the face of the earth and God spoke directly to me to protect it and carry it west. In this day with nuclear holocaust poking it's head out of the proverbial news hole that it is, the idea of an age that is horrific like this movie portrayed isn't too off base. Once the government is taken out by war or bomb, we who are left will be living in a nightmare. I think that's why there has been so many movies depicting our world in a post-apocalyptic scenario. But even if we don't have some nuclear bomb blasting us out of bed, we still have to face the fact that one day we will be called to stand for what we believe in-whether it's the harsh truth or a happy lie. We will all have to choose who we will serve and if we choose wrong it will mean death. Whether or not this happens in our lifetime isn't the point. What I'm trying to say is: Would you be willing to walk west because God told you to and would you be willing to die for your faith?

The other part of this story that really struck me was his blindness. Everything he did was by faith and not by sight. He walked blind, he talked blind, he fought blind. At first, I was angry that he gave up the Bible for the girl, but when I realized that he had memorized all of the scripture it occurred to me that he could give up the book. The Word was hidden within his mind.
Two things we can get from these things:
When we walk by faith we are able to accomplish the things God calls us to do. You look at Elijah in the Bible. He walked by faith, aware always of the heavenly realm. He performed many miracles and prophesied in order to bring the people of Israel back to God. And he made mistakes. But God used those too and then sent Elijah back into the fight. My point is not to make Eli out to be a modern day Elijah, but to show a real story of a real man who really did walk by faith and less by sight, at least without the earthly sight and with more spiritual sight. When we walk with our spiritual eyes open and fixed on what God has called on us to do it is then that we can accomplish so much more. The world will look at us and say to each other, "How did he do that?" They may be drawn to us like Solara was to Eli, curious, defensive, scared. Whatever their feelings may be towards us they will still take notice of us as we walk by faith and not by earthly sight alone. We should be looking through the way things appear and asking God what is really happening that we may not see with our human eyes. If we try to see with spiritual sight and less with our human eyes we will begin to see things better and respond in a different and more redemptive way.

The second thing that caught my attention was the fact that he had memorized the scripture. In Psalm 119:11 David said,"I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you." Psalm 1 says "Blessed is the man...who delights in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates on it day and night." Proverbs 7:2-3 says, "Keep my commands and you will live; guard my teachings as the apple of your eye. Bind them on your fingers; write them on the tablet of your heart."
Memorizing scripture is a great habit to get into, but it's not enough if that is all you do with it. With the memorizing should come meditation on what the scripture means. These are only three verses but I bet you could spend at least a half hour processing and journal about each one of these verses and what exactly they mean. We don't memorize scripture for the sole purpose of spouting off a verse that suits an argument, or put someone in their place, but to let it sink in and change our own heart and mind. We memorize it so that when anything happens, either wonderful or devastating, we have His word we can turn to, his promises we can remember even if there isn't a Bible in front of us.

Now, I'm not hailing The Book of Eli as the great story of all time. Yes, there is the political correctness of placing the Bible next to the Koran on the shelf at the end of the movie; and Jesus was never discussed in the movie even though that is what the Bible is all about-His saving mankind throughout His life, death, burial and resurrection. And I didn't like that Eli wouldn't tell Solara about the Bible at first or even discuss Jesus with her. I don't like these things in the movie, but lets face it, we live in a world that belongs to an enemy and we shouldn't be shocked when a decent story that has good potential is twisted to feed the propaganda of this world. Remember, we are the ones who are aliens and this is not our home, but one we are traveling through. I agree with those of you who said what you didn't like about the Book of Eli on my facebook page and I agreed with those points. But on the flip-side, I challenge you to ask yourself a) How far do I go when God has called me to do something for Him? b)Would I be willing to die in order to accomplish what He has asked me to do? and c)Do I rely on my human instincts or do I rely on God and see things with His view in mind?

So, before you throw the baby out with the bathwater, give thought to what can be learned by this...um, interesting, movie.

Just a thought...




*Disclaimer: I do not recommend this movie to anyone faint of heart, regardless of age. :)

You Can Have All this World...

The wind blew sharp and cold against my cheeks and neck. I pulled my coat tighter around me, wrapped my arms around my body, and hunched my shoulders against to shivering breeze. The clouds above me moved with the wind and the sun was no longer hidden. It began warming up again and I closed my eyes against the brightness and took a deep, contented breath of fresh air.

It had taken several minutes, after climbing the path to the top of the hill, to realize what that mysterious sound was that I had heard. It was the wind as it flowed through trees, around hills, up valleys and down mountainsides, reaching past, jostling from behind, swirling about, reminding me of what it feels like to be away from the rest of the world. I took another deep breath in and blew it out again as tears made pathways down the makeup I applied earlier that morning. It seemed as if the tears were melting away parts of a mask, revealing my true face and with it my real and exhausted emotions. On this mountain, in front of three giant crosses, I was at the end of who I thought I was. I was at the end of who I had become.

For the last several years I believed I was a city girl. I don't like camping, I don't like sleeping on the ground, and I don't like getting dirty. I like electricity, I like indoor plumbing, and I like to go places and not take all day to get there. From a very young age I loved the excitement of being in large cities, going to gigantic shopping malls and being surrounded by beauty and glamour. I was captivated by that shining and shimmering world, that alluring universe of enchantment. I wanted that life and the one I had paled in comparison.

Until now...

For the last two years my life turned upside down and inside out on me. Life as I knew it was forever changed and, for the first time in years, I was forced to view life with fresh perspective. With my foundation shaken to it's core, all the things I had been excited by in the past no longer look so grand. Instead of being full, I am empty. Instead of excited, I am bored. Instead of enchanted, I am discontented. It has all been fluff, no substance. The make-up, hairstyling, and clothes all seem like a waste of time and energy and a chore.

These things aren't bad to do and I will most likely keep doing them, but what my heart was concerned with was ugly. The things of this world that I've been preoccupied with leave nothing to be desired. It's like eating marshmallows for dinner. They may taste good at first, but they won't last long and you'll eventually get sick on them. My concentrating on the things of this world was making me sick and I had no idea until I got away from it all for the weekend.

The first day we drove into those mountains I felt withdrawals. I was nervous from being so far away from civilization, but after a day I began to relax. Instead of hearing honking horns and reving engines, I heard the rustling of leaves and the scurrying of squirrels. Instead of being surrounded by hundreds of homes and people, I was surrounded by swaying trees and whistling birds. And instead of feeling lost and alone, I felt found again and more full then I ever have in a mall.

As I sat on that mountain top, feeling the wind brush away my tears, I found a peace I had long forgotten. The peace of simply coming before the Lord and laying all of me-my sins, insecurities, mistakes, triumphs and gifts-at the foot of the cross. I have been so caught up in the 'bells and whistles' of Christian living that I have forgotten the simple wonder of sitting at his feet and praying. Like my distraction with the world, I had become distracted with church music sounding the 'right' way in order to worship Jesus and concerned with who delivered a sermon than the sermon itself. Shame on me.

But the baggage I had carried on my back as I drove those switch-back roads to the ranch, fell away at the top of that hill. What my heart longed for was the exquisite beauty of simplicity. Simply coming before the Lord with the Word of God opened and a voice to sing praises to Him. Nothing else is needed, only ears to hear and a heart bowed before His throne.

"You can have all this world, just give me Jesus." ~ Fernando Ortega

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Dca0P7w9ZQ&feature=related

Breakfast at Dutch Brothers

Have you every spent $2.50 just to talk to another adult? I remember a few years ago, when my children were all under the age of five, I would haul them into the van, buckle them up, insert ear plugs to drown out whining and/or crying, and drive down to Dutch Bros. for coffee.

Sure, I needed the energy, and the children enjoyed getting out of the house for the most part, but what I really needed was to talk to someone about something other than diapers, nursing vs. formula, and nap times. As soon as I spotted the sign for the kiosk my whole day brightened up and even the children would squeal with delight. I would be getting my daily dose of energy and interaction and my children would each get a sucker. It was a great way to start the day!

It never failed that when I pulled up to the window there would be a young guy asking me what he could get for me and he always called me "honey". It wasn't the "honey" that warmed the cockles of my heart as much as it was that he talked to me nicely and he wanted to do something for me instead of me doing it for everybody else. All I had to do was sit there while he expertly made my drink, oh, and pay him money to do so. It was money, I thought, well spent.

I had long forgotten those random trips to Dutch Bros. until this last week. A sweet friend invited me to the church for a mom's group she and some friends had started in September. I wasn't going to go but my day opened up and I felt the Lord's urging to try it out. So, Ellianna, my five-year-old 'baby', and I ventured off to the mom's group. We left the peace of the parking lot and stepped into the chaos of baby land.

About twenty women, babies and children filled the great room. I stood planted to one spot, shocked by the noise and the fact that I had forgotten the constant sounds small children make. Over the next hour and a half I watched the women as they conversed, laughed, planned for a luncheon, ate, passed babies to each other, and generally enjoy each other's company. I had a wonderful time as I caught up with some of the girls and what they were up to nowadays. It went quickly and before I knew it I was on my way home, both Elli and I enjoying the silence of the van.

As I drove home my mind played a mental video of years past when I would drive home with just two small children after a morning at the Ladies Bible Study or some function or other. Logan would be babbling about wanting lunch and Garrett would be either babbling as well or screaming his head off. I would drive home, sometimes turn up the radio in hopes of drowning out the angry screams from the back seat, and plan what to make for lunch for the children. After eating the children would take a nap and sometimes I would too. My days were simple. They revolved around meals, nap times, and bedtimes. At the time life felt difficult and monotonous. I was elbow deep in diapers and knee deep in laundry with no end in sight.

Fast forward to the present. We decreased our monthly expenses on diapers only to have it increase in the amount of food we eat. I stand hip-deep in laundry since the clothes are no longer sweet and small, but instead long and bulky. My daily schedule no longer revolves around nap times, but around school bells and soccer practices. Conversations no longer involve them learning new words to say, but new words to not repeat ever again...And my prayers are no longer just "Lord, get me through this day," but also, "Lord, help my children to make it through this day safely."

When I pulled into my driveway I felt like I had taken a five year jaunt instead of a ten minute drive. I missed my boys, I missed the simplicity of life, but I didn't miss the crying. What I was surprised to miss was the getting together of moms. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I had gathered with other young mothers and discussed baby things, laugh about the cute things children do, and swap ideas on how to make motherhood a little more bearable.

Yes, my life has changed dramatically in just five years, but there are some things that remain the same. I still need to gather with other moms and discuss issues we have with our children, I still need the friends that the Lord has blessed me with over the years, and I still very much need coffee...

Writer's Block

I'm sitting here at my keyboard and I'm stuck with nothing to say at the moment. I've neglected my blog for sometime, partly because I was so busy working and taking care of my family that I didn't have the time to write. Now that I'm no longer working I don't have that excuse anymore. Hopefully you can bear with me because this is like pulling teeth to even get these words out of my head and onto the screen.

Writers will tell you that to jump the hurdle of writer's block you need to just start with one word and go from there. So that's what I am trying to do. The problem isn't that I don't have anything to say, but that I have so much to say but can't share much of what is going on in my life. I don't think I have writer's block, I think I have an emotional block.

You're probably wondering where I'm going with this line of thinking...so am I. I don't know if you have ever had a block of some sort, writer's or otherwise. They aren't fun and they can disrupt your thinking and even physical activity. Even writing this paragraph I have deleted it several times because I can't seem to get my thoughts out correctly. It's extremely frustrating as I type, delete, type, delete...you get the picture. My brain is all jumbled up and one of the reasons is that I waited too long to write this blog. I'm now out of practice and like exercise, if I don't do it everyday I get out of shape, lose lean muscle and my body turns flabby. My brain is just that: flabby.

As I contemplated this writing block I realized how similar my spiritual walk with the Lord has been in the past. There were times I would think of reasons not to read my Bible, do a study, spend time talking to God. I got caught up in life and the busyness of it. There was always something that needed to be done before I could sit down and have quiet time. I noticed a few days of missing my quiet time but if I ignored it long enough I would get through the whole day without giving the Lord a second thought unless it was for a quick prayer like, "Lord, help me find my car keys" or "Lord, help me find my debit card." My life just got too busy for God.

But then something happened in my life. It jerked me back from the path I was on and I remembered that this life was not about working out, soccer practices, praying for a bigger home or a nicer car. The world as I knew it crashed and burned and I fell to my knees and cried out to the Lord. I knew he was there but it had been awhile since I had called on him in such desperation. I had forgotten him for too long and had to start at square one. I didn't know him as well as I used to and I hadn't talked to him for so long that my prayers felt stunted as I groped for the words to say to him.

A friend once gave me the advice to keep your accounts short with God. In other words, always be confessing sins when you realized you've sinned. It sounds funny but it's true. When I sat down and talked to him I had a lot of confessing to do because I hadn't been keeping up on it. I couldn't come before the Throne of God and ask for something if I didn't first ask for his forgiveness of my sins. I also had to reacquaint myself with who he is, his character and how much he loved me. That all seemed foreign to me even though I knew the right 'church-y' answers. It was like seeing an old friend from school. After the initial hug and "Hi, how ya' doing?" it takes time to get back the closeness of your friendship you shared years before. Things have happened over the years and if you didn't keep in contact over that time you have to start at square one.

The Lord doesn't change but we do. If too much has happened, too many bad decisions made, or too much devastation occurred than we often feel like we can't just come back to Christ. But we can. The enemy would love for us to always feel separated from Jesus, feel like we are too bad to come back to him, but those are lies. We can come back no matter how far we've run from him, whether it was purposely or unintentionally. He was behind us all the time. I believe it was C.S. Lewis who referred to God as the 'hound of Heaven'. He will come after those who are his children and when he does the best thing you can do is turn around and run back into his arms. It will take some time to get to know him again but it's possible.

I'm still struggling with writing this blog. I'm still deleting what I type and it's taken me awhile to get this written, but now the words are coming faster and I'm remembering how to do this. I can't let the difficulties and frustrations stop me from finishing what I've started. I have to keep going not only with this entry but with more to come. It might take some more time for my thoughts to flow more easily, but once I get over this little bump in the road it'll become easier to do once again. It's the same with my walk with the Lord. Now that I've been in his word for awhile it's easier to talk to him all the time and I desire to spend time with him.

I don't know what your block might be. You do though. I think the tip of how to get over writer's block can work well for a spiritual block too. Just like you start with putting one word on the page, you can also start with saying one word out loud to God like "Hi."
You just might be surprised where you'll end up.

I Heard the Bells

The snow fell heavily on the man as he walked slowly back to his cold, dark house. No one would be there to welcome him in, no fire in the fire place, no food on the table. He wrapped his coat around him tighter, but the cold had already settled into his heart. Tears blurred his vision and he swallowed hard past the tightness in his throat. The past few years had been Hell on earth and the future held nothing but more sorrow, war and death.


He thought about his time with his young son who lay in the infirmary, wounded from a gun shot wound while in battle. He thought about his young wife who lay cold and dead in the church cemetery. And He thought about the emptiness of this Christmas compared to Christmases he'd had in the past. This one was void of any joy, happiness, or song.


The sorrowful fellow made his way to his wife's final resting place, the weight of the world resting firmly on his shoulders. Past the church doors, through the wrought iron gate, down the small hill to a tombstone dusted with snowflakes. Kneeling down he kissed the stone marker. Oh, how he loved her. Oh, how he loves his son. Oh, how he hated this world and the grief that came with it.



The darkness descended upon his mind like a heavy, malevolent mist. He muffled his sob against the wool gloves. Would this pain ever go away? Would this war ever end? Would there ever be hope again?


The snow silenced all the noises surrounding him. All he could hear was the ticking hand on his pocket watch tucked into his breast pocket. His tears dried crusty on his skin and he realized the town was fast asleep.


The church bells rang out announcing Christmas morning had finally come. The bells broke forth into a melody of carols. And as they rang loud and clear the despair only sunk in deeper to the man's heart. How could there be peace when there was so much hate? How could he sing of good will when there was nothing good in this world.


But the bells didn't cease. They continued to sing their songs of praise to God on high. And as they rang the old man listened.


Peace on Earth, Good will to men.

Peace on Earth, Good will to men.

Peace on Earth, Good will to men.


Those words were first spoken to a flock of sheep and scared shepherds. In a dark and weary land there had come One who would bring peace to this earth and true good will to men. A baby was born that would bring peace between God and men.


Though I put him in a fictional setting the man was real and so were his tragedies. He lived from 1807-1882 and went by the name of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He wrote the poem that later became the song "I heard the Bells on Christmas Day" on December 25th, 1864, a few months before the Civil war ended.


I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day


I heard the bells on Christmas day.
Their old familiar carols play
And mild and sweet their songs repeat
Of peace on earth good will to men.


And the bells are ringing
like a choir singing
In my heart I hear them
Peace on earth, good will to men


And in despair I bowed my head
There is no peace on earth I said
For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.


But the bells are ringing
Like a choir singing
Does anybody hear them?
Peace on earth, good will to men


Then rang the bells more loud and deep
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men


Then ringing singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men


And the bells are ringing
Like a choir singing
And with our hearts we'll hear them
Peace on Earth, good will to men




I heard this song sung by Casting Crowns last Christmas when I was facing a war I never thought I'd face, a crisis I thought I was some how protected from. The world as I knew it had come crumbling down as I stood helpless and hopeless and feeling very much like a little girl lost.


As I listened to that song a line hit me hard:

God is not dead, nor doth He sleep
The wrong shall fail,the right prevail.
With Peace on earth, good will to men.

So here we are in 2010, still in a war that started in 2001. So many heroes have died this year-heroes of this nation and heroes of the Faith. Husbands and wives have left each other and left their children to fend for themselves. Abuse, suicide, murders and so much more...

And what does this depressing blog have to do with Christmas?

Answer:

It is because of all these things that God sent His Son to this earth in the form of a small baby boy.

What Longfellow realized after sinking into despair was that God saw the crushing devastation that was on this earth and was not asleep or ignoring the cries of this world. He saw all that was and what would continue to be if He did not intervene and save us.

That is what Christmas is all about. Its not about who gets the best presents or the most presents, white Christmases, Bing Crosby or Holiday Inn :). Those are all fun things to enjoy but we must realize that Christmas is really about the beginning of a Sacrificial Life that would be lived sin free and end in an incredibly painful death on our behalf.

By the end of the poem Longfellow saw Christ's birth for what it was: a bringing of peace on earth between us and God and extension of His good will to us by saving us.

I don't know what sadness haunts you this Christmas, maybe its nothing at all. I know for me this Christmas is easier then last year at this time. It is no longer the blissful Christmas I remember from growing up, free from troubles and all about Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney dancing in White Christmas. I still love those old movies but this season has gone much deeper for me after this year.

This season speaks about God, who didn't forget the Covenant He made with Abraham, and chose the perfect time to send His beloved Son to live on this earth, resist the temptations of this fallen world, to show His love to people who would kill Him if they could get their hands on him and did just that. Easter is about the death and resurrection of Christ, Christmas is the day He became a human to save us.

So, this season I hope and pray your Christmas will be a one filled with the knowledge of what God did to save you and that your heart will know just how much He longs to extend that Peace and Good Will to you.
Blessings to you!

*Check out Casting Crowns singing this song on Youtube. Awesome song. Merry Christmas!

This Treasure in Jars of Clay

This past year and a half my life took a turn I never expected and ended with my parents moving away for a year. This whole last week has been tumultuous emotionally as I prepared for thier departure. On the one hand, I'm excited that my parents get this much deserved and needed rest, on the other hand my heart aches from missing them so much. They have been an integral part of our lives for the past nine years there is a big empty hole left in our hearts by their absence.There have been times I've been tempted to climb into my bed, pull the covers over my head and wait till next September when they come back.

But I can't do that.

Sunday morning as my dad spoke about pruning the Lord spoke to me as well. I am being pruned in different ways from my dad, but it is pruning nonetheless. I knew that at that moment I could choose how I wanted to react to the pruning. I could kick and scream, cry and yell, pout and complain about the process.

OR

I could lean into it. I could trust the Lord and what He is doing in the life of the church body, my parent's lives and my own family's life as well. Our Heavenly Father is the Great Multi-tasker. It always amazes me to see how many lives and the levels He is working on. Sometimes it's invisible, sometimes it's quick and miraculous, sometimes it's slow and stunted because of our refusal to allow Him to work in us. Nevertheless, He continues to work in our hearts and in our lives.

My point in writing this note is mainly for those of you who are a part of the TCF church body. Just like you, I am going through a growing time, a period of pruning that is painful, BUT I want you guys to know that Lord is holding me close, teaching me so much, and even though I am sad as I look at a year without my mom and dad, I am also anticipating what the Lord will be doing and the fresh fruit that will come of it. Sure, I have my difficult times in dealing with these things personally, BUT when I look at things from God's point of view, knowing there is a much bigger picture then what I see and that this is all for God's Glory, I have peace and His Joy becomes my strength.

It is all about Christ and I am clinging to Him with everything I have because I would be lost without Him. I have fallen apart plenty of times throughout this last year, but though I am "hard pressed on every side, I am not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed...Therefore I do not lose heart. Though outwardly I am wasting away, yet inwardly I am being renewed day by day. For my light and momentary troubles are achieving in me an eternal weight of glory that far outweighs them all. So I fix my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."(2 Corinthians 4:8-18).

My dear brothers and sisters, please pray for my family but do not forget to Thank Jesus for what He will accomplish in all of us as we grow through this year. I will be praying for you as well and joining you at church. A couple of folks asked if I would continue to attend TCF after my dad's last Sunday and I wanted you all to know that yes I would be. It was a difficult decision at first because, to be honest, I didn't want to. My pain was too great and I really just wanted to move myself to another state. In the last month the Lord has been working in my heart and He has given me His peace that passes all understanding, to remain a part of the Trail body. Yet one more thing I have learned in all this is that He gives me the strength to take on what is in front of me that day and it is good for me to NOT jump ahead and worry. Ahh, but that is a lesson I'll share in another blog :) .

For now I will close. I love you my dear Christian family and I thank you again for your prayers for this past year and this year to come. I will see you all on Sunday morning as we gather to worship our Saviour!

In His Grip,
Kristen Parr

(Yes, I know I stole that from my dad ;) I just thought it was fitting since that's exactly where I am...in Christ's Grip!)

"Thank you, Mommy"

"Mom, why didn't you and dad vote for Obama?" my nine-year-old son, Logan, asked.

I sighed heavily in response because I was tired and we had just exited Walmart. It was late in the afternoon and I had other pressing matters to think about, like dinner, for instance. I tried to formulate a simple answer while navigating the parking lot.

"Well, we didn't agree with some of his ideas on economics and stuff. Oh yeah, and we oppose abortion and he supports it. That was our main reason for not voting for him." I figured that would be the end of the conversation.

I figured wrong.

"What's abortion?" was his next question.

I prayed silently and asked God for guidance. How do you describe abortion to young people? Did I want him to know what it was yet? Did I want his younger brothers and sister to know? I decided I should probably be the one to tell him since I brought it up. Besides, I didn't want him to get another nine-year-old's opinion of what it was.

"Abortion is when a doctor goes in and takes a baby out before it’s ready to be born so it will die."

Logan gasped. He sounded like he had the air knocked out of him. "You mean they just kill it?"

"Yes," I said, cringing at my own words and the mental images that flashed through my mind from pictures that I had seen in the past.

"What kind of woman would do something like that?" he asked.

"Women that don’t know any better and take the doctor’s word that it’s not really anything but a blob, not a human being. They are scared and choose to believe this lie."
I thought about these women who choose this avenue, my heart aching for the ones who honestly believed the lies told to them. But I also knew that there were those who knew exactly what they were doing and chose to do it anyway. "Others are just selfish and don’t want the baby."

Logan was angry at the thought of babies being murdered. In his young heart he knew that this was horribly wrong. Amazing sometimes how the young can see things more clearly then adults who ought to know better.

I let him stew as we continued the last few minutes of our drive. My mind had already shifted to getting dinner on the table. We pulled in front of our garage and the kids started to pile out. I gathered my stuff too and started to climb out when a small voice spoke up and stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Mom," said my six-year-old son, Trevor, "Thank you for not doing that to us."

I looked into his big green eyes that mirrored his soul. Swallowing past the lump lodged in my throat, I said, "You're welcome, babe." He gave me a dimpled grin and then scooted out of his car seat, and scampered into the house. I sat back into my seat and thought about his words.

When I was pregnant with Trevor I went through a horrible depression. Darkness cast a shadow over every thought that came into my mind. Medication I had been on for a long time was altered and it threw me into a rapidly descending tailspin. It was scary to not be able to trust my own mind and emotions. I had my husband, Josh, and two little boys depending on me to get meals on table and do laundry. Now I had another one on the way, which I prayed would be a girl. I thought that would change everything. It had to.

I wouldn't have hurt my two older boys and being pregnant prevented me from harming myself. I didn't want to be held accountable for killing my child, but my mind was reeling and I could hardly function under such a dark cloud of depression. I often cried myself to sleep when I took naps with my boys. Thankfully, Logan doesn't remember these times. He would often lay next to me, stroke my arm and in his three-year-old voice say, "It's okay mommy." Eventually we would both fall asleep. Other times I would be crying in the kitchen, sitting on the floor and leaning against the refrigerator. Both Logan and Garrett would crawl in and lay their heads on my lap. I'd listen to my dad's voice consoling me over the phone and I run my fingers through my boys' hair. After a while the Lord would calm me down so I could get dinner on the table.

I was so convinced I was having a girl that when the doctor announced it was a boy in that delivery room I emotionally turned off. I held him and kissed his little forehead, Josh told the family what his name was and everyone congratulated me. But I lay in bed, mesmerized, broken hearted, scared to be a mommy when I didn't think I had it in me. I wanted to cry but I had no more tears. There was nothing left...or so I thought.

A week later I got terribly sick with endometritis, an infection of the lining in the uterus. Josh took me and baby Trevor back to the hospital. I could hardly walk because of the blinding pain in my body. It felt like daggers stabbing me over and over again. The nurses pumped me with three bags of saline because I was so dehydrated. They asked me if I was eating or drinking water. I nodded yes, but my husband said no I hadn't been. I honestly couldn't remember. The nurses fussed over my little boy as I lay on that hard bed in a back room of the ER.

Around 3 am the hospital released me to go home with a prescription for antibiotic and more pain meds. When I look back on that night I see it as when I started to come back to life. The following week I had 24 hour care which was good for my body and heart to heal. My mis-diagnosis and medication was finally corrected. And best of all I formed a bond with my little baby boy that I couldn't have imagined before.

My point in telling this story was to share what I went through and what I would have missed had I bailed out by aborting my little boy. Yes, the entire pregnancy was tumultuous. Yes, my family suffered along with me. Yes, the physical and emotional pain was intensely difficult.

But, it was all worth it for Trevor. I don't think it was a coincidence that Trevor was the one who thanked me for not killing him. When I look at my little green-eyed boy I can't imagine life without him. He has such a tender heart, a love for the Lord, a sweetness in his soul. He's all boy one minute, running around with a sword and playing "Pirates of the Caribbean." The next minute he'll stop to give me a hug for no reason at all. Just because. I can't imagine our lives without Trevor being in the middle of it all.

That's why I am saddened for the women who choose abortion as their alternative. Not only are they murdering their babies for whatever reason they give to appease their guilt, but they are also missing out on dimpled smiles, hugs for no reasons, and a little life that would bless those around them.

I don't know who reads my blogs. I don't know if you have had an abortion. If you have and you didn't realized what you were doing come before the Lord and accept His grace. He will forgive you and He holds that child in the safety of His realm. If you have never had an abortion but know those who have or are thinking about it please pray for them. Pray for this nation and for Obama.

There is hope for you, friend, if you have done this deed. Put your hope in Christ, He loves you and will forgive everything you've ever done. He will give you a new life and wipe your slate clean. Yes, you may have the natural consequences of this act but rest assured that His blood covers your sin. You can start out clean with the same Jesus that cares for your little one right now.

On Wings of Eagles

Isaiah 40:28-31
28 Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
The Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
And his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
And increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
And young men stumble and fall;
But those who hope in the Lord
Will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
They will run and not grow weary,
They will walk and not be faint.

This was written for the Israelites while they were in exile but it is an encouragement for us as well. Like the Israelites we often get tired of where we are in life. Life is difficult, fraught with physical and emotional pain. Or it's just plain boring.

My life is less then exciting to report. I have to laugh when someone asks what I’ve been up to because there is really nothing new that I’ve done since I had my last child. I get up every morning, fix breakfast and clean the kitchen just in time for lunch to start, and make an attempt to finish the laundry. I spend half of my day worrying about bills and how to put food on the table and the other half asking God to forgive me and thank Him when he’s done it all. Who really cares to hear about the hum drums of life? I have another 15 years at least of days just like this one.

Just like the Israelites we live one day at a time, dealing with traumas, trying to find some kind of hope in a hopeless world. Sometimes we even wonder, in our darkest moments, if our Savior has been defeated because we can’t seem to see him working in our lives. I grow weary. I grow tired. I don’t want to keep walking when every day looks like the day before and tomorrow looks like today.

A couple of years ago Josh and I were in a bad job/financial crisis and what I hadn’t noticed was my walk with the Lord was in a crisis as well. I was questioning His trustworthiness in my life. Especially when I looked around and it seemed everybody was doing well but us. People were leaving for vacations we could never afford, buying toys for their kids we could only dream of and living in big homes with room to walk around in and not step on each other. I was so frustrated with the Lord. I was weary of looking to Him for the answer, tired of walking His path when it seemed it was getting us nowhere. I was the young man stumbling and falling. I was bitter, frustrated, and angry at the Lord and at our situation.

One night I came to the end of myself. After learning the fate of a famous celebrity the reality of Hell hit home for me. I could only imagine this woman burning for all of eternity and it sent a chill down my spine. It was then that I realized that God had saved me from eternal damnation. I don't know why after 20+ years of being a christian I would finally realize what Christ did for me but that's what happened. For the first time I grasped the fact that He didn’t save me because it would be nice for my Mom and Dad’s sake or because I was the Pastor's daughter. He saved me simply because He loved me. It was His will that I live with Him for eternity and it had nothing to do with what I could do for Him or who I was related to.

I dropped to my knees on my bedroom floor weeping over my sins and thanking Him for saving me. When I stood up that night I was exhausted from crying but renewed in my spirit. My hope was no longer in the world, the superficial happenings going on around me. My hope was in Christ. It stopped mattering to me who was making the money or buying a new house or traveling to Hawaii. I was blessed simply because I belonged to Christ.

This, I believe, is what it means to be renewed in our spirit. It comes at times when I'm weary and don’t think I can take one more step in the direction he’s leading me. That’s when He reaches down, takes my hand and gently leads me on. When my hope is in the Lord I have strength to press forward even when I didn’t feel like it before. After that night I did soar like an eagle. The weight on my shoulders fell away and I could breathe again. I could walk and run and not feel the weariness that once encumbered me. In fact, spiritual truths took on new light and I looked forward to seeing what the Lord would do for us instead of be frustrated at what He was doing for some one else.

The only way to get through this life is to be renewed in the spirit, by God. So how do we go about being refreshed in this exhausting world? I don’t have an exact answer. I really don’t. Every person is unique and the Lord connects with us in different ways that meet us where we’re at. For me, I had to keep doing what I was doing. I continued to go to church even when I didn’t want to. I continued to sing the songs even though my lips were the only thing moving, my heart wasn’t in it. I can’t tell you how many times I would show up for the outside services purposely late, keep my sunglasses on so as not to make eye contact with anyone. I even toyed with the idea of going to another church for a while. But I didn’t. Usually by the end of the service I was okay enough to talk to people and have a decent conversation but it took me the entire hour and a half of the sermon to get to that point. I did this for about six months at least.

But my renewal didn’t come during a worship set, or specific group prayer time, or during a sermon. He spoke to my heart when I was alone, in my bedroom, with the background noise of the TV from the living room. The kids were sleeping and my bed had a pile of laundry on it as usual. I had no halo, in fact I don’t know if I had a shower that day. But that is where the Lord chose to meet me, reaching through the chaos of my life, to awaken my heart’s eyes to see exactly what gift he had given me. A gift of a life beyond this one, a hope for something more beautiful and magnificent then I could ever imagine having here on this earth. A hope that this wasn’t all there was to life, I actually had something to look forward to beyond the here and now.

I don’t know how or where the Lord will meet you; I only know for sure He will. He knows your heart, your inner person that he created and he knows how to intimately touch your soul and give you the strength to keep pressing forward. He may reach you during worship at church or in a small group Bible study. Your renewal may come on a tropical island or at a day retreat. Or it may come on a lonely night when you cry yourself to sleep.

But, my friend, be rest assured that it will come. On that weary path when we stumble and fall we must cling to the knowledge that his understanding goes farther than we can imagine and he never grows tired or weary of hearing our cries. He gives energy to the weary and power to the weak. He will reach down, lift our eyes up to Him and renew our strength. He will make us soar on wings like eagles, He will help us run and not grow weary, walk and not faint.

A Little Humor Can Go A Long Way

Have you ever wondered what kids are thinking? Have you ever driven in a car with four children between the ages of 3-8? This is a real conversation we had in the car last summer:

Garrett (7yrs): Mom, did you know that dick is a bad word unless it’s a name?
Me: Yes, and since we both know that now we don’t need to repeat it.
Garrett: Okay.
Trevor (5) from the back seat: Jesus lives in my heart! Satan lives in my armpit! Jesus lives in my heart! Satan lives in my armpit!
Ellianna (3) yelling from the back seat: Stop yelling, Trevor! Everybody stop talking!
Logan (8) wasn’t saying anything, he was too busy ducking out of the way between Trevor’s arm movements and Elli’s elbows in the air because her fingers were in her ears.

If you ever see me driving and I look like I'm laughing hysterically I may be listening to another conversation like this one.

I find life is very serious most of the time and sometimes you have to find reasons to laugh, sometimes those reasons come to you in a car. I'm naturally bent towards a more pessimistic attitude and I find it extremely difficult to see a bright side of anything in life. This way of thinking throws me into a depressing funk and it's very difficult to 'turn my frown upside down'. Thankfully I married a man who is happy and when he sees me falling apart he tries to help me see life from another perspective, a more uplifting one.

Life really is hard and if you disagree then you are probably young, healthy and unmarried :) Just kidding. Seriously, though, life is difficult at times and the hardest thing you can do is find humor in anything you're doing. During those times I have found humor to be my best medicine. This is the reason Josh and I collected all ten seasons of Friends and now are working on Scrubs and The Office. Watching these shows together bonds us, actually, its the laughter that bonds us. Later when we are having a difficult day one of us will make a quote from a show and the other one will laugh. We know these shows are silly and definitely not family viewing, but sometimes when life seems more difficult then what we can handle we turn to something uplifting.

Growing up I had a friend with a large family. Their house was always in chaos and her mom had a different schedule then my family. When my sister and I would spend the night we would make 10:00pm trips to the store for groceries. Kelly and I had no idea anything was open past 8:00 since we were all tucked in and the house locked down for the night at that time. It was so much fun to make Cinnamon rolls or chocolate chip cookies at midnight if our little hearts desired it and it was okay to make a mess and then clean it up...the next day. But I have to say my favorite thing about this mom was her contagious laughter. It is my mental picture her laughing in hard times and fun ones that has stuck with me as I raise my children. There have been those days when I could either laugh or cry and I laugh instead, much to my children's relief.

Life is messy, chaotic, funny, monotonous, devastating, crushing, you fill in the blank. You will feel each of these things at some point of your life. But you can also find something that will make you laugh. Please don't think I'm contrived or pithy. My life has been especially hard this past year but God is good and I believe He knows our need for humor in life. He knows its important to laugh, it actually affects our minds and emotions and has the ability to relieve pent up stresses.

Laughter is a wonderful gift to us. So next time you're driving a vehicle with children in it turn off the radio and listen to their conversations, or sing with them at the top of your lungs to an upbeat song. Rent a silly movie or sitcom and laugh hysterically with your special someone. Get into a tickle fight or giggle just for the sake of giggling. Try to find humor somehow in your life. You need to do it. Besides, it's more fun then crying :)

The Hypocrisy in Me

"Ring.....ring.......ring"

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly after I lunged for the phone before my daughter could answer it.

"Mom? It's me, Logan." My oldest son's voice didn't sound so great and I knew what was coming before he asked. "Can you pick me up from school? I don't feel so good."

"Yeah, honey. I'll pick you up in a few minutes." We hung up the phone and I added this one more thing to my already long list of things-to-do. Actually, the only thing on the list was Costco but when I bring children with me that one trip is all I can fit on the list.

After I picked him up from school I asked him what was wrong.

"Well," he began, "When we came in from recess I got really hot and my back hurt and then I felt sick." Looking back I should have known it was probably just dehydration and overheating. But for some reason I didn't think of it at the time.

After Costco Logan and I headed over to the doctor's office. I had a sneaky suspicion that we didn't need to go but we went anyway. Sure enough Logan had perked up considerably and described in great detail how he felt. The doctor confirmed what the nurse said earlier when she ushered us into the room. He was dehydrated and needed to drink water and take it easy in the heat. My heart was both elated that nothing was seriously wrong and also chagrined that I had just forked up twenty dollars for something that could have been cured by a bottle of water.

After the doctor left the room I looked at Logan and said half-jokingly, "Honey, you need to take care of yourself so we don't have to spend twenty dollars on seeing the doctor." As the words left my mouth my conscience yelled, "Hypocrite!!"

Later I apologized to Logan for putting money before him and his needs. I felt awful.

I realized I had been doing the exact same thing for the last several years. So many times I ended up in the doctor's office asking for a antibiotic, anti fungal, anti...whatever. You name it, I'm on it. Or so it seems at times. I have been battling the same medical issue for nearly three years and it has cost us numerous twenty dollar payments. Why? Because I haven't been diligent about keeping close watch on my diet, I haven't stayed on some of the meds I should have been on, and the list goes on. The consequence of my "splurging" is an unhealthy body, poor self-esteem, and a sense of failure because I've never been able to stick to the one thing that would keep me healthy and vibrant for my children.

Hypocrisy is a funny thing. Sometimes we don't even realize that our actions and words counter-act each other. Another day not too long ago my six-year-old looked up at me with big eyes watching the shove a "treat" into my mouth. With all sincerity, sweetness and inability to say his "r's" very well he said, "I thought you were trying to lay off the sugar."

Ouch! He was right. My children watch me say one thing one day but do something else entirely different on other days. What am I teaching them?

The last thing I want to teach my children is that they can say one thing at church or to friends and then act entirely different when nobody is watching. What a horrible lesson to teach my children.

My dad is a pastor of a church here in the Valley and over the years I have had many people ask me if he is the same at home as he is in the pulpit. The answer has always been "Yes!!!" I love my dad and respect him so much because he truly loves the Lord when he's alone or when he's surrounded by the congregation. When he comes home from church on Sundays he is still the same man of God, except a little sleepier. I used to take that for granted, assuming every pastor is the same at home as he is at church, but as I grew up I realized integrity is more rare than I thought. For that reason I respect my dad much more because he sets an amazing example of walking in Faith. I want to be like him when I grow up!

I want my children to respect and love me for that same reason. I want to set an example of doing what I say I'm going to do. I want to lead by example, not just preach at them about what they ought to do. I don't want them to remember me stuffing a doughnut in my mouth and then mumble to them, "Now don't each sugar, children. It's very bad for you." That's like telling your children not to smoke while you light one up. Most children will do what they see their parents doing. I would much rather show them instead of just telling them what it looks like to live a hypocrisy-free life. In my writing class we are constantly being told to show the scene and not just tell it. That goes along with real life too!

The older I get the more I love Jesus. Maybe its the trials I am forced to walk through, maybe it's the realization that life offers no hope outside of Christ or maybe it's a little of both. Whatever the reason, I really have fallen more in love with my Saviour. But I do wonder at times....

Do my children see that love for Christ or do they merely see a woman with multiple personalities that present themselves differently in separate situations?

My prayer is that I will follow the example of Christ and of my dad, by being a woman after God's heart in actions and in words, written or otherwise.

One thing's for sure, I have a really long way to go...

Soul Sifting...

Tonight my little girl melted down at bedtime. It had been a long day of playing hard with cousins and friends and her little soul couldn't take anymore.

I tried to coax her into her Alyssa's room with promises of letting her sleep downstairs with her big brothers the following night. But she kept crying. Next I tried the tough mom act of telling her, "You better be in this bed by the count of three. One, Two..." Still more tears fell down her cheeks. I looked into her sleepy, blue eyes and I wondered how I would get my exhausted four-year-old daughter to calm down and rest. I said a quick prayer under my breath before I began a new tactic.

I realized at that moment that Ellianna needed me to hold her, she just didn't know it yet. I wrapped her blankie around her and spoke softly as I picked her up and brought her to the bed. Her response? She cried harder and tried to escape from my arms. But I continued to be gentle with her despite the tears. I asked if she would like me to lay down with her and she nodded her head yes.

I helped her snuggle down under the covers and then lay down next to her. Her wails calmed to quiet whimpering as I wrapped my arms around her small body and cuddled with her. We prayed together, I sang her a song, I kissed her forehead and soon those deep blue eyes could no longer stay open. Her heavy lids closed and she stopped moving around. I kissed her and then tip-toed out of the room.

I am sad to say that this was the first time in a very long time since I laid down at bedtime with her. The last several months have been busy with so many different things to occupy my mind and heart. I have been slacking off in many ways in my parenting because I thought other things needed to be done first or I deserved to have some down time since I was with the kids all the time.

The truth is those were just excuses for me to play on the computer or be swept up in a story that kept my mind off of my reality. I've let the house fall around my ears, laundry pile up and leave dishes stacked in the kitchen all for the sake of keeping my facebook status updated! I'm so ashamed to even write this because I'm embarrassed of my selfishness over the last year.

I knew the time had come to break this habit and decided when I visited my sister and her family I would take a reprieve from my Internet addiction. I wanted to spend the week talking with Kelly, playing with the kids and making memories. My first day I was so happy to not be chained to the computer. Over the past several days I have laughed at the cute antics of my three-year-old nephew, shared hugs with my children and I had a sweet talk with my nearly ten-year-old son, Logan.

And I haven't missed facebook or twitter once. For the first time in a long time I had a major reality check. I think the accumulation of difficult events in my life plus the death of an amazing christian man have shaken and rearranged my priorities drastically. I have had to take a hard look at my life and realize that what I say and what I do are sometimes different things. I say Jesus is top on my list but I don't spend as much time reading His Word as I do reading a Dean Koontz novel. I say my husband and children are second and third on my list but I don't clean the house for them, I haven't been good at cooking meals for them and I don't tuck them into bed much anymore.

So what are my priorities really? I have to say honestly that I'm first on the list...at least, that's what my actions say.

The truth is Jesus and my family really are top on my list, but my actions have begged to differ. So now I need to make up for lost time. I need to show my family that I love them more then anything else in this world. I want to do the same for Christ.

I must say this has been a wonderful week for me. I left home weary and needing to reevaluate my life. Now I realize I don't want to miss chances to show Christ's love to others; I don't want to miss fun adventures with my children; I don't want to miss living a full life with my husband.

And I really don't want to miss anymore bedtime snuggles with my little girl...

Thoughtful insights on Sleepless Nights...

It's 12:30 in the morning and I should be snuggled up next to my husband dreaming sweetly of sugar-plumb fairies.

But I'm not. I can't sleep...obviously. Instead, I'm sitting at my computer pondering a not-so-funny comedy I watched and regretting the sugar binge I indulged in. I figured I should write down my thoughts now instead of tomorrow morning when I'll most likely wake with an intense dairy/sugar hangover. Thank goodness it's a Saturday and I don't have to get up too early.

Tonight I watched He's Just Not That Into You. I don't know why I watch these chic-flick, dramedy movies. The movie was such a sad commentary of what people are doing out there to find someone who will love them. There was the desperate-for-somebody-to-love-me girl that made a fool of herself for any man in hopes to find a mate. There was the sexy yoga teacher who falls for a man who is married but obviously doesn't care about destroying another person's life as long as she gets what she wants. Next up was the couple who break up in the beginning because after living together for seven years he still doesn't want to marry this woman that he professes to love. There's the issue-ridden wife who's married to the aforementioned man who has shacked up with the yoga teacher. There's the editor of a gay magazine trying to get a date with a man and can't seem to find a good one. Oh yeah, there's also the bar tender who uses women and seems like a jerk but somehow turns into a good guy a little later on. Then there's the other man that is also sleeping with the yoga princess and thinks he's madly in love with her.

Confused yet? I sure was.

I came away with two thoughts prevalent in my mind.

1) I'm so thankful I'm not in the dating scene anymore. Marriage is difficult but so is going out on blind dates and whatnot. If I'm ever tempted to wish I were single again I will call this movie to mind and thank my lucky stars I'm not trying to find that special someone in bars and clubs who will love me for me.

***Note to my much loved single friends: I'm not trying to poke fun or make anyone feel bad for going on dates. The truth is the enemy loves to taunt married women on a bad day that thier lives would be so much better if they were single again, able to go out with friends and breathe a little excitement into what becomes a rather dull life at times...
***Another note: I do believe the enemy taunts the single girls too with the lie that they can only be happy or useful if married and with children. That is simply NOT true. Some of the women I respect the most are single and living for Christ regardless of being in a relationship or not...

and on that note lets go on to...

2)All of the relationships the movie portrayed were immensely depressing fabrications of what true love really is. Each and every couple was looking out for numero uno. None of them cared about the other person involved or those who would be hurt because of their decisions. The yoga instructor didn't care that this man's wife would be shattered to know of her husband's infidelity and she didn't care for her other male friend with whom she would fool around with when her chips were down. She would use him over and over again.

This world has love all upside down. Love means sacrificing yourself for the good of the other person, even if it hurts you or kills you in the process. Love isn't all about happy, giddy feelings and running hand-in-hand through fields as the sun sets and the credits role. There's a reason most good romantic movies end when the couple kisses, its because after that kiss you have to start the real work. After the pastor announces the bride and groom as Mr. & Mrs, the rice is thrown in the air, and the happy couple arrives home from their honeymoon the real work of love begins.

True love is not expressed on the wedding day as much as it is on the days when the entire family comes down with the stomach flu and you have to clean the bathroom after your spouse throws up.
~Its expressed on the days when the paychecks are low and another baby is on the way and instead of blaming your husband for what you don't have, you thank him for working so hard for the family.
~Its expressed when the doctor diagnoses cancer and the husband must take care of his wife over several grueling years.
~Its expressed in the everyday life of making dinners and doing laundry.
~Its expressed in the most heart-breaking moments of grief
~It's expressed in the joyful tears when the baby you've been trying for finally arrives.
~Its the kind of love that sees you through the tears, the laughter, the joy and sorrow, the hard years and happy years.


There is an amazing singer/songwriter named Andrew Peterson. He has written a beautiful, heart-breaking song called "Love is a Good Thing." I can't hear it without crying because it's the most honest song I've heard about love. I'm going to check out whether or not I can print the lyrics to it before I do so but if you haven't heard it I recommend reading or listening to it. He describes love in it's most difficult times as well as in the good times, but regardless of how hard it is it's still a good thing to do.

True love is sacrificial, it's the laying down of one's life for another, in the good times and bad. Sometimes Josh and I will look at our wedding pictures and we'll chuckle and ask "what were we thinking?" We weren't thinking too much. We were young, idealistic, selfish, stubborn, spoiled (that was me) and armed only with many prayers from our parents and other couples who knew better then we did. Sometimes in my lowest moments I have to remind myself of what the Lord has done in my life over the last eleven years. Over the years He has shown me what love really looks like so that I can spot the counterfeit when I see it. That counterfeit is usually from movie-land and comes in different shapes, sizes, and stories, but its fake all the same.

Don't get your ideals of love from Hollywood or books, don't take relationship advice from people who don't know what true love looks like...

...and don't forget the ONE who is love personified in every way imaginable. He is died to show you what love really looks like and He did it while we still hated Him.

Now that's True Love!

A Day's Legacy

Have you ever wondered how your obituary will read?

Sometimes I think about it. Sometimes I wonder what kind of things will be said about me. Will I be remembered as:
A good mom?
A sweet wife?
A faithful and kind daughter, sister, sister-in-law?
A lover of Jesus?

I would hope to be known for all these things, but more then anything I would want to be known for living a life on fire for the Lord. I read an obituary today of a friend who graduated last Saturday. I was amazed by the things this young man accomplished and I cried as I read it. I cried because this man will be missed and because he was so dedicated to the Lord. At the age of twenty-five this young man had done more in his life for Jesus then I think I have in my thirty-two years.

Now, I know my life has gone in a different direction then his did. He had a call on his heart by God to reach people for Jesus. I am not called to be a missionary, I am called to be a wife and mom and writer. But what struck me was that whatever Daylon Harrington set out to do he did it with passion. Whether it was skiing down a snow capped mountain, dancing across a ballroom floor, or flying a plane to different countries he did it to the glory of Christ.

I had to ask myself, do I do that? Do I passionately enter into what the Lord puts in front of me to do, however joyful or difficult the circumstances may be? Do I live my life so abandoned to Christ, letting every word I speak or write honor Him? To be honest, no I don't. Not completely.

I look at the things I let occupy my mind and arrest my attention that don't really matter. When I die will very many people be moved by the size of my hips? Sounds pretty silly in light of eternity, huh? Will people remember me as a woman who loved Jesus and her family or will they remember me as a woman who entangled herself with the world, forgetting who she was in Christ? I'll tell you what, over the last couple of years the Lord has been showing me just how unimportant the values of this world are. What Jesus tells us is important, the world tells us its not. In the world's eyes my life looks like a waste. But my life isn't governed by this world...

Or is it?

I am frequently forgetful when it comes to the importance of Christ and I let the world tell me that I should be living for me, myself, and I.

But then something happens in my life, like the death of a wonderful, godly man, and I'm allowed a brief glimpse of Heaven and its KING. My earthly thoughts are shattered and I am reminded of how short and meaningless this life is without Christ. My priorities are shifted once again and I am reminded that my life lived fully for Christ matters in eternity, not the distractions this world has to offer.

Someday my life will begin in the next realm and end in this one. I don't know if it will end in a nanosecond like Daylon's or if it will be years of trusting Christ through an illness like my friend, Shari. Whichever one, it is my prayer is that my obituary will read like the theirs did and my life will be one lived fully, passionately, and lovingly for my Savior.

How will yours read?

Rescued!

The wind blew coldly across the large Canadian lake, skimming the top of the water and rippling it in the process. My sister, mom, auntie, cousin and gramie huddled under a heavy blanket in the back of the boat, ready for the hour long journey it would take to get back to the campers and trucks we had left at the docks two weeks earlier. Papa started up the boat and the roar drowned out all voices. As he shifted into gear and accumulated speed the back of the boat sunk lower into the water. The canvas covered our heads but the plastic windows didn't offer much of a view, nor did it offer much blocking of noise. After a while we adjusted to the drone of the motor.

After we docked the men jumped out of the boat and began unloading baggage and food. The women and kids were left in the boat. They probably figured it was safer for us to be in the boat then running wild on the docks. Besides, the trucks would need warming up and there would be bustling around until then. Not a good place for little people to be underfoot. After a few minutes Kelly and I needed to use the restroom. Gramie said she would take us up to the little restaurant/cafe on top of a muddy hill. So the three of us, bundled in our warm woolen coats hiked the hill together, listening to one of Gramie's stories about a cat and a prince.

On the way back down to the boat we carefully walked the rough road, hopping over puddles and trying not to slide in the mud. As we walked onto the dock I decided to show off. I called out,

"Hey Gramie, I can walk backwards with my eyes closed!"

"That's great honey," she said.

She and Kelly turned onto the next dock leading to the boat. I kept walking backwards.
My right foot stepped back then my left then my right again, but there was no more wood to step back on. Before I knew what was happening I was falling into the icy water. The water swallowed me quickly.I came back up gasping for air, the shocking cold had knocked the air out of me. My wool coat soaked up the water fast and became too heavy for me. It pulled me back under the surface. I opened my eyes and could see only a muddy haze and what looked like ground going up to the shore. But I didn't know how to swim yet. I struggled to come up again.

When my head broke the surface I heard yelling across the water. A man's voice hollered out, "Go get her, Son! Go get that little girl!" No one had seen me fall except one man standing on the shore. He was there with his two sons, fishing.

I flailed about trying to save myself or at least keep breathing. Heavy footsteps pounded the wood as two teenage boys ran to me. They couldn't reach me, I was too far from the dock. I could hear them yelling to one another. One of the boys jumped in immediately and grabbed me as I started sinking again. Pulling me to him he brought me back to the dock as the other boy reached for my hand. One lifted, the other pulled up and before I knew it I was out of the water, soaking wet and scared to death.

It's funny how memories can bring a slew of emotions to go with it. I cried through writing some of this story. Partly because I remember feeling panicked because I couldn't catch my breath and I knew I couldn't save myself. I didn't know how to swim.

The other reason I cried was from the memory of some one's voice calling for help for me, someone had seen me and was trying to get help.

That man standing on the shore knew his son could reach me faster than he could, so he sent him to get me. That boy knew that the only way to save me was to jump into that cold water with me.

And isn't that what Jesus did? Didn't His Father send Jesus because He was the only one who could do it? Didn't He jump in with us because He knew we would drown without Him there in water? No one else could rescue us except for Him and He willingly threw Himself in with us in order to do it.

I don't know the boys or the man who saved me that frigid, winter day. We never heard from them again, but that fifteen-year-old memory stays with me like it was yesterday.
Why?
Because...I remember feeling scared and desperate for someone to come save me.
Because...in the face of that desperate fear it paints an amazing picture of what being rescued is all about.

Rescue: to free or deliver from any confinement, violence, danger, or evil.

The Sad Life of Margaretha Geertruida Zelle

Last night I was reading a book about spies, particularly female spies. I came across a woman named Mata Hari. Her story so intrigued me that I went on line and checked out who this woman was.

She was born Margaretha Geertruida "Grietje" Zelle on August 7, 1876. Her father was wealthy for a while and sent her to a private school. In later years he lost his money and divorced his wife. Life as they knew it fell apart and Margaretha bounced around to a couple of different relatives houses.

At age 18 she answered an advertisement for a wife written by Dutch Colonial Army officer Rudolph John MacLeod. They married and soon after moved to Java in the Dutch East Indies. The marriage was a difficult one. They lost their two year old son to complications from syphilis. They also had a daughter who would later die at the age of 21 of the same illness. Officer MacLeod was not only a violent drunk, but also had another wife as well as a concubine.

While in Java Margaretha learned how to dance the Indonesian dances and adopted a stage name of Mata Hari ("eye of the sun").

In 1903 Margaretha and MacLeod moved back to the Netherlands and divorced. MacLeod kept their daughter forcibly and wouldn't allow Margaretha to take her. After the divorce she moved to Paris and started out as a circus horse rider. In 1905 she moved on to provocative dancing in which she would proceed to strip down to barely anything by the end of the show. She took the stage name again of Mata Hari and was known for her exotic dances and flamboyant lifestyle as a courtesan. Many of the men she attended to were high ranking German and French officials. Because of her involvement with them she would often travel between countries during World War I. She was suspected of and eventually imprisoned, and executed for being a double agent. (Wikipedia is where I got my info.)

I started thinking about who this woman was exactly. She was a real woman who lived at a dangerous time and suffered real pain in her personal life. She married an abusive man, lost a child, had another child kept from her by the abusive ex-husband, and was divorced at a time when that wasn't acceptable. The rest of her life is one of an erotic dancer and courtesan who went from one bed to the next with important men in hopes to find critical information for another country or in hope of love. At age 41 she was executed by a firing squad. Only a priest, two nuns, and her lawyer were there to say goodbye to her. The ironic fact is that no one really knows if she was a double agent or not. The records from her trial were sealed for one hundred years. In 2017 they may be opened and there is a very good chance that she was framed by France and not really an agent after all.

After I read the account of her execution I was deeply saddened by her life and death. She refused to wear a blindfold or be bound. She simply stood and looked the death squad in the eyes as they each pulled their trigger. BOOM!
After she fell another soldier bent over her body and shot her once in the head as well. BOOM!

What was the point of her life?
What was the point of her death?

There is a scene in Pirates of the Caribbean Part: At Worlds End that haunts me. Elizabeth is on a ship and sees her father rowing his boat in the underworld they are trapped in. She thinks they are back to the live world because she sees him, but then realizes he is actually dead. She yells out to him, "Father!"

He says, "Elizabeth, are you dead?"

"No"

"I think I am," he says. "There was this chest, you see. It's odd. At the time it seemed so important... Silly thing to die for..."

I wonder: Does Mata Hari sit in black nothingness and question her life, thinking it was all silliness and unimportant in light of eternity in utter darkness?

I wonder if my life were to end tomorrow would I see it as a failure or an accomplishment. Would I see my life as chaff in the wind, full of emptiness and leaving nothing good for my children? Or... Would I wake on the Other Side and find that I lived my humble life the way it was supposed to be lived and the treasures I live for was really what life was all about.

It is so easy to get caught up in this world and all it's vanity. It tells us that this is the only life we get and to live it to the fullest. It tells us that is the only life that's important and afterlife doesn't matter. It tells us that this life is really all about us. But this World is wrong. Dead wrong.

There is more to this life then money and glamour, brokenness and pain. There is a Hope that is worth living for. There is a Hope that is worth dying for.

Keep your head down, but your eyes up...on the Lord

My chest felt tight and I wondered if my heart would explode if I didn't stop to catch my breath. But I couldn't stop. Not for a while yet. A deep burn traveled through my legs as I forced them to continue peddling. I glanced up to see how much longer I had to go.

Ooh, bad mistake. The top of the hill seemed even further away.

A friend rode up close behind me and yelled into the wind, "Don't look up! Keep your head down!" I nodded but didn't respond. I was too busy trying to breathe and not crash into the ditch

Sweat poured into my eyes and mingled with tears. I fought with my body and mind, forcing myself to keep going when my brain said I should give up and my body said I couldn't do this. It was too much. It cost me too much to climb this hill.

I tried to swallow but my parched throat screamed a reminder at me that there was nothing for me to gulp down. I reached for my water bottle for a long drink...and came back to reality.

And just what is my reality?

This is actually a word picture for where my life is at the moment. I'm not on a bike trip but on a life trip. A few days ago I crashed emotionally, feeling unable face the trouble in my life. I called my dear friend up and cried out to her, "I can't do this any more. It hurts too much." I knew she would understand my heart when my words wouldn't do my pain justice. Then she shared with me this scene.

The trick to riding a bike uphill is to keep your eyes up enough to see where you're going but your head down. Then she told me this is what I need to do in my life. This hill I'm climbing is long and steep. If I focus on how long it will take me to get to the top of the hill I will lose momentum. If I focus on how steep, meaning painful in this case, I will lose hope to see it through. However, if I take it one pedal at a time, keeping my head down and my eyes up enough to see the few feet in front of me, I know I'll make it to the top.

Psalm 121
I lift my eyes to the hills--
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip--
He who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, He who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you--
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm--
He will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.