DNOW

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I decided I would serve. And I spent the better part of the week cleaning and getting ready. I think I should have been in prayer more. For their hearts. The evening was here and I met my crew. They were girls of all kinds spending the whole weekend in my home for DNOW (church youth event). Actually, they are still here, and I have a gazillion things to do, but I'm writing this instead. So, I can remember. They are all pre-teen and early teen in age, and there are sweet girls, pretty girls, popular girls, and unpopular girls. And it's one of unpopular girls who seems to have taken me back a bit. I should have a special place in my heart for unpopular girls...as I was unpopular, too. This girl is slow. Like you could tell she is maybe a special needs. And so I'm trying to make it a point to not cast her off. I think I need to try harder. They are all at church now with their leader going through there sessions and small community mission projects, and so I began to tidy up a bit. I'm just saying having 13 girls and 3 leaders in your home and spending the night for the weekend...in your small home...well, it's an excellent way to give up yourself. Anyway, I'm tidying, and putting things up. And I come upon the unpopular girls stuff. It's worn and not new and fancy like some of the other girls things. And I should have a special place in my heart for girls like that cause I grew up on the poor side and didn't always have new or fancy. I move her stuff over so I can get in a closet to put some things away. I look down and see him...or her. It's mostly covered but I can just see it enough, and I pull it out. A stuffed animal so worn and loved. And I don't know why but tears filled my eyes? Well, I do know why. In a time when pre-teen and teen girls are so past the stuffed animal stage, this young girl is not. I wonder what the popular girls, way too cool for stuffed animals would say. Well, nothing because it is a church event, but I can't help but have my heart filled by her, her tattered things, and that worn out stuffed animal.

So, I'm off. Off to pray for these young ladies in the making. And I'll pray earnestly for them all...knowing that whether unpopular or popular...we just all really need Jesus.

1000 Gifts...

In my journey through, Ann's book 1000 Gifts, I'm realizing as Ann says that this level of thankfulness is really a learned behavior. And I'm not talking about the thankfulness that we are all accustomed to in our shallow thankful behaviors, I'm talking about this deep, Jesus like, eucharisteo thankfulness. And so early in my journey I feel a bit faltering. This past month has been a bear. Hurt feelings. Disappointments. Loneliness. Wrong attitudes. Last night as I dumped all that on The Bob, poor Bob, I made the comment before we turned out the light, "Here I am reading a book on recognizing 1000 Gifts and here I am griping about everything." Yes Ann is right. This level of thankfulness, this eucharisteo surely is a learned behavior...and one that takes consistent practice.

I also wonder...Ann talks about how ungratefulness started in the Garden of Eden with Adam, Eve, and the serpent. I wonder am I not only struggling against my flesh, but does the deceiver show up at just this time to discourage me in this journey? I wonder.

But I will not be set back by me and my flesh or the serpent. So, I press on to 1000 gifts...

137. Dog squeaking toy in the background
138. Spring buds forming on winter tree
139. That in loneliness I can draw to Him
140. Life is full of "seasons" that cannot be recreated...only enjoyed
141. Ahsleigh’s laugh
142. A pot of chili, thick like a stew…reminds me of my favorites Little House and the Walton’s
143. Steam rising from a simmering pot
144. Laughter so full you can’t breathe
145. Afternoon treats
146. Evening talks
147. Fresh sheets on the bed

Finding what you want in what you give...

Every year I expected it. On my birthday, especially on my birthday. On Mother's Day. On Valentine's day. I wanted to be treated and feel like the most special person ever. Ever. And saying that now just sounds so...selfish.

Every year he never expected it. Never. Not on his birthday, not on Father's Day, not on Valentine's Day. He was content and expected little except maybe a card or some small something. But no big day long celebration of him.

But this year, I did it for him. I took the focus off of me and focused on him. His birthday was more than it's been ever, I think. And it wasn't that it took a lot of money or a grand present. It was just little things throughout the course of two days. A table set fancy, confetti, a special text or two at work, his favorite Chinese dinner. It was two days of celebrating him. And he felt so special. I know it cause he told me that night. I gave what I always want. And in the giving I found what I had been looking for all along. I felt loved and special right along with him. And this morning I find these words to be the truest....

“You only have what you give away. All that you’ll ever have is only what you’ve shared”

~ Ann Voskamp

The blue balloon...

We had been coloring. Fep reminded me I had not colored with her in several years. But a cute Winnie the Pooh coloring book in the dollar section at Target compelled me to dust off my Crayolas. And I sat there with her. She admired my coloring thinking me the queen of the Crayola. And I soaked in her love.

The next day Fep was back to coloring on her own, and she colored a picture of Christopher Robin handing Pooh a balloon. The balloon was blue and I immediately thought, "Not sure that's the color I would have chosen." Moose followed that thought with, "Fepper, why did you color the balloon blue. It's supposed t0 be red." And then we all had a big discussion on the color of the balloon in the Disney Winnie the Pooh that first aired in the late 60's. I agreed with Moose that it was red. Fep insisted it was blue. Moose dug through the old VHS's and found that first Disney made Pooh. On the back of the box was several pictures from the movie...one of Pooh on his blue balloon. I said, "Well, it may be blue on the back of the box, but I really think that's just on the box and it's red in the movie."

A night later, we piled in my bed, coloring book, Crayolas, and a bit of excitement in hand, and watched that Pooh video. And what do you know, but the balloon is blue. I asked Fepper if she looked at the box or if she just remembered it was blue. She said she just remembered it. And for some reason that filled my heart. I think it's that Fep is going to be 13 this year and to know that as she's growing that her little girl days are still in her memory and in her heart makes my heart filled with it all.....

Pancake memories...

As mentioned in a past post, my Daddy was an alcoholic. Looking past that, looking to the sober times, there are memories to be cherished. And one of the things I talk about often are his pancakes. That they were so yummy. That he cut them into perfect squares and triangles. I was with my brother (pictured with Fep above) recently, and something came up about Daddy, and he mentioned Dad's pancakes. I smiled and commented, and he said, "You know that's about all we have left of Dad are his pancakes." And while I can remember more good things about my Daddy than just pancakes, my brother confirmed our love of his pancakes.

This Christmas my brother came over early Christmas morning because he wanted to cook my Daddy's pancakes for us. I have to say I never knew the exact recipe until this year. I've always just used a box mix when I make them. And the pancakes my brother made were good, but I have to say....they didn't taste like I remembered. And I think I like the box mix better. And that made me sad. Cause those pancakes were the bomb diggity (yes, I just said bomb diggity) growing up, and with my Daddy's alcoholic history, I did cherish that memory of when he made those. But then I realized that's whats really important anyway. It's the memories. It's the good memories not the actual taste of the pancakes themselves. And now with the memories of my Daddy and pancakes, I also have a sweet memory of my brother, too. He was so pleased with himself cooking up those special pancakes for us. And it was all done in much love....love for me, love for my children, and love for that special memory of my Daddy.

Ooops! I did it again...

When I made that cake 9 months ago, who would have thought? Who would have ever thought that I'd actually misspell "birthday" again? Not me. That was good for a one time laugh, right?
Enter birthday cake #2.....

MMMMM HMMMMM. I misspelled birthday again!! Good grief. And I got nothing this time. I was putting those candles on that cake, got to the end to put on the "y", and thought, "Why do I have two letters left?" And then I saw what I had done....more laughs....more smiles...more memories.

Yes, I homeschool my children. Don't judge me ;)

Ohhhhh! And today, just happens to be my sweet husband's birthday. He loves me even though I can't spell "birthday"!

Goodbye Woobie. You'll be missed....

The Woobie did not originally belong to Moose but Fep. Fep was not a baby who needed much. No paci, not too dependent on a bottle, no lovie of any sort. She cared nothing about the white crocheted blanket made for her by a lady at church. Moose on the other hand was much in need of creature comforts. He was a paci lovin' kind of baby. And he did not settle easily. One day as he was down for his nap, he was just a fussin'. And I stood over the crib wondering what to do and I thought about a friend who said her baby loved to be covered up from head to toe. So, I took The Woobie and draped it across Moose face and all. He immediately quit crying. And that began the love affair with The Woobie. He and The Woobie, or Woob for short, were quite inseparable.

But now nine, almost ten years later, The Woobie is worn. Just last night as he was snuggled in bed with his Woob, he said, "Look what the cat did." And he pulled out a very long piece of yarn from his Woobie. Today when I found his Woobie, I saw that it had a large hole. The yarn has been so thin for a while, and I'm not surprised it has a large hole in it. Even though he's been too old for it for quite some time, he has shown no signs of wanting to put it away. So, I did what I hated to do and told him it was time. It was time to put The Woobie away or there would be nothing left of The Woobie. I took out his baby box and knew this was it. It was the last daily visible, physical reminder of all those precious baby memories. It made my heart hurt. Still does.

So, in the box on top of the ultra sound picture, cards, hospital paper gown, etc., etc. lay The Woobie. Moose said, "I'm okay right now. But I know I'll really miss it tonight." And then my heart filled just a little more......

To Hear the Quiet....

By nature, I'm a homebody. So, that I love being a wife, mother, homemaker, comes rather naturally for me. I love having my house in order, routines, etc., etc., etc. I love every day kind of every day stuff. That December through the first week of January was none of that was rather trying for me. I tried to embrace the season, and there were moments that surely I did. But overall it was rather stressful for me. In the end, I was depleted by too many places, too many people, and too much busyness. Nothing that looked routine. Except maybe a day here or there. Probably that the Lord knew I needed that just to keep my sanity.

Now in this second week of January, I am reclaiming that life I love. This morning as I prayed, I prayed over routine, structure, and order. The people are gone, the chaos has calmed, and I find myself already being filled. Sunday evening we had a snowfall like we haven't in quite some time. Maybe 5 to 6 inches here. And I always think of winter as quiet. There is such a huge difference when you go out at night in summer and in winter. Summer nights are filled with bugs, frogs, locusts all harmonizing together. And I like that. But winter...winter nights are so quiet. There is just not a single sound to be heard. This morning as I was making my bed and looking out the window, seeing the blanket of snow which still covers the ground, I could literally hear the quiet. And I found my soul being filled...and I look forward to quiet days filled with routine, family, home, and Him.

For the New Year....

This won't mean a thing to anyone but me, and that's okay...looking forward to what's in store for this new year...and what He will do in it....

"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow, but woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! .... And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two withstand him - a threefold cord is not quickly broken."
~Ecc 4:9-10, 12

Like Larry...

I rather feel lik Bob on this ornanment. Really wanting to get off this ride as it's a bit crazy.
Always seems there's is so much busyness in a time I'd just really like to take it all in.



Kinda of like Snoopy. He's restful. He's chillaxin. I just really don't think he has a care in the world laying up on top of that dog house. But I'm sure that is not really realistic. I'm sure Mary and Joseph had quite the journey to Bethlehem. I'm sure that they were excited, anxious, and tired all wrapped in one. And when He came, they found the journey worth it. When He came, they found rest.

So maybe I'd should take on the attitude of Larry....he's just enjoying the ride. The days are busier than I'd like, the days are more tiring than I'd like, but they should be enjoyed. And when He comes along side I find the days worth it. When He comes along side I find rest.......