I See a Generation...

Sunday was an amazing day.  But, It started as a busy-bee Sunday, I was getting the kiddos ready, getting myself ready, double and triple checking that I didn't forget anything for Sunday school, and packing lunches for the kids and I to have after church, before pageant practice, and making sure not to forget any of the aforementioned items. Then we dashed off to church, and I was late, so I had to go make copies and get supplies for class while worship started.  I hate being late, and it leaves me kind of breathless, and frantic. Finally I got to join the rest of my church family for worship, and after I hurried in and set down my stuff, I looked up and smiled. Sigh.

It was youth Sunday (now I already knew this because my darling Serena was in the bells that day, but I had forgotten about the band being youth too). Up on that stage were 4 of my former students from Sunday school. 4 kids (well not really kids anymore) that I had gotten to know years ago, 4 kids that I got to watch grow up not only in stature(because Lord knows they are ALL taller than me now), but in faith as well.  They were leading worship with all the kiddos 4th grade and younger in the front row watching, singing along, maybe even picking their nose, but still watching. And they started to sing a song I adore, with  lyrics that say "I see a generation, rising up to take their place..." It hit me; I sat there soaking it up and soaking it in, and saying to God "Thank you, I needed that reminder."  A reminder that all the franticness of planning and prepping is not as important as passing on my faith to the next generation. Just as the youth was doing on stage, sharing their faith with the little itty-bitties in the front row (and all of us adults as well). Then another former student came up to do announcements and I swelled with emotion as I watched her.

        I wasn't much older than those students are now when I was their Sunday school teacher. I had just come off a few prodigal years in which I ran at full speed away from God, but He in His loving kindness drew me back.  And even gave me a job to do (you see my God loves me and knows how much I love having a job to do).  He told me to teach kids, to share my newly re-sparked passion for His word, and His love and His redemption with these kids. And as I watch them now, I see it was just as much for me as it was for them. So here is a thank you, to each of you who were serving God by serving us on Sunday:

Levi: Back at the old facility, when you were in 4th grade, in my Whales class, we were singing praise to God to start off our morning.  We sang together "God of Wonders" and you got most of the class to stand, arms around each others shoulders swaying and singing along together. I should have known God was forming you into a worship leader. And I thank God every time I get to look back on that day.

Meagan: I still remember you as a sweet little 4 year old girl who had my daddy carry her the entire 4th of July parade.  And I remember you being in my class as a bright ray of sunshine, always friendly, always talking. And getting to see you sing worship to our Savior and then sharing how blessed you were serving others in Fresno blesses my heart so much.

Evan: When you were in my class, you were always leading the pack, always smiling, always with a story to tell. And I see you now serving at church, helping in VBS, going to Romania and I see how God was molding you into the man He made you to be. And I am glad to have been able to see it.

Sean:  I remember the joy Brian and I had running up the stairs (or at the old facility running back to the last building) to try to beat you to class, only to have you jump out from behind a desk or chair and scare me...because you had beaten us there, once again. You were always ready to participate in class, always ready to talk about God's word and your life, and I know God will use that in you to do amazing things, things I can't wait to see. And I will smile just as big then, as I did the few days I beat you to class and got to jump out from behind a desk and surprise you.

McKayla: I always loved your outgoing nature, how quick you were to talk to anyone and everyone about anything. I loved the fire in your spirit, and I love that now as I watch you on stage, I can see that it hasn't changed.  God is growing you, but you are still just as spunky and wonderful as ever. God will continue to use your spunk for His glory as long as you let Him!

And thank you God for letting me witness the next generation rising up to take their place...and thank you for the encouragement it gave me to keep pressing on in mine.

God is dancing in my heart

God's timing never ceases to amaze me.  Never.  It's never what I would plan, and no matter how much I hem and haw and think my timing would be better and why doesn't He just do it my way...His is always better. And last Monday was no exception.

I am doing this amazing Bible study by Beth Moore entittled Stepping Up: The Psalms Of Ascent. Amazing study...and I will go into that at another post. Monday I was doing my daily "homework" and it talked about praying for your family members who are saved and thanking God for that, and praying for the ones who aren't.  So I had my list, and my little angel Chloe was on the "not" list.  After all she's almost 4...and hasn't really gotten to the point of "getting" the idea of salvation.  So I prayed for her protection until she can get to the point of accepting Christ, pretty typical mom prayer stuff.  Well, little did I know the night God had in store for us.

At bedtime we all took turns praying and as always Chloe's went like this "Thank you God for mommy and daddy and Se-ya and SunShine.  And thank you Jesus for dying on the cross to take the punishment for the bad stuff we do, so we can be in Heaven with you. In Jesus' name amen."  She always prays that, we spend a lot of time talking about Jesus, after all, He is a pretty big deal.  But I never had felt like she was doing much more than reciting what she's been taught, until...

Right after her prayer, she turned to me and said, "Mom, did you know Jesus died on the cross to take the punishment for the bad stuff we do, so we could go to Heaven with Him?" And that was it.  I felt it.  The Holy Spirit was tugging on her heart...and God had me praying that day, not just a normal everyday mom prayer, but He let me be a part of this special, life changing, eternity changing day.

So I replied, "I know! Isn't that amazing! And did you know that all you have to do is pray, and tell Jesus that you know you do bad things, and you need Him to forgive you and you want Him to live in your heart forever...and He says yes! And then you are forgiven and Jesus lives in your heart forever and ever! Would you like to pray that with me?"

And she said Yes, and she repeated that prayer after me, right there on her bed at 6pm on Monday Oct 25th. And her sister and I were elated! Serena was smiling and congratulating her, and I was trying not to cry. And I told her that the Bible says when anyone asks Jesus into their heart that God and the angels rejoice in Heaven.  They sing and dance and have a party because Chloe is forgiven! So then we called Daddy in and she told Daddy how she told Jesus she knew she did bad stuff and she wanted Him to forgive her and live in her heart. And we hugged and smiled and laughed and then called Grandma and Pappa, and Chloe told them the story, with the biggest grin on her face, and she kept telling them "God is dancing in my heart!"

And you know what, I think He is.

Now, I know an almost 4 year old doesn't grasp the concept of redemption the way you and I do.  And I know that someday she will have to take a hold of her faith and make it her own.  And someday all of that will happen.  Someday she will fall in love with Jesus on a deeper level than she can even imagine now.  But as far as her little heart is concerned, she needed Jesus, and she asked Him in faith to make His home in her heart, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that she meant it.  And someday I am going to get to see all the great plans He has for her life, and I will get to see all the amazing things she will do for Him.  But for now I get to revel in the fact that a 3 1/2 year old loves her Jesus with all her heart...and He is dancing inside of it.

Was that really last year already?

I penned...well typed  this about a year ago, and as I strolled through my blog, reliving some memories, I read it and realized something. That post helped me see growth in my child I may not have noticed otherwise in such a clear way.  You see Serena AGAIN tried out for Mary this year.  And AGAIN she was nervous as can be about getting on stage, alone and reciting a line.  But she did it.  And she did it well.  She was clear and loud and concise and I am beaming still while writing this, picturing that in my mind.  Because reading that post brought a snapshot of my little girl fidgeting being too afraid to recite a line she knew by heart into my mind, as clear as day. And I get to see those two days side by side in my minds eye and see how she has grown physically and how she has starting growing into her own skin slowly but surely.  You see, I know her to be dramatic and expressive, but a year ago that girl wasn't sure if she could be those things.  And her nerves got the best of her.  But this year that same little girl told those nerves to bug off and she stood up on stage and let her personality shine.  And she is going to let that personality shine on Pageant night, not for herself, not for me or my family, but for her Lord. 

You see, she wasn't sure this year if she even wanted to be in the pageant.  And me trying not to be a stage mom let her make the choice.  We talked about it, and she said it's a lot of work.  And I said I know it is, but you are sharing the Good News of Jesus with the whole audience, the pageant is your gift to God.  Then she said I still don't know, so I fought back the urge to say "Well I said you're going to do it!" And instead opted for "Okay, think about what I said and let me know." So she did think about it and she decided that she wanted to do it, as a gift to her God, as a way to share Jesus' birth with the world.  And she shone brightly at the auditions, and she will shine brightly at the pageant, because she shines for HIM, and through HIM.

On repeat

Do any of you have the "mom-isms" that you could record and just have it playing on repeat in the background all day long...you know just to save your voice?  I have a few "Be nice to your sister". "And where does that belong?" "Stop tormenting the dog". You know how it goes, all day everyday I say these things over and over and over again.  The one I find myself saying the most is "Because we're family and families share."




"Why do I have to share my new toy with Chloe?"
"Because we're family and families share."
"But why do I have to let Se-ya use my lipstick?"
 "Because we're family and families share."
"But why do I have to split this ice cream with my sister?"
"Because we're family and families share."

All day long, all day long I say this.  And it feels like it never sinks in because if they got it, I wouldn't have to say it so much, right?

Well, last night we went to Autumnfest, a carnival at my husbands old elementary school.  And Serena won the cakewalk and picked (because she's AWESOME) the red velvet cake from Costco.  Have you ever tried it? Super moist red velvet cake with cheesecake filling? **Insert drool here**  And she was already convinced she was going to eat half of it...that night...just her, a cake box and a fork.  Gotta love the way 8 year olds think (like their mom).

But then we made a pit stop at Brian's family's house and she offered to share her large, drool worthy cake with the family.  And at first her grandma protested, saying it was her cake.  But then.

It happened.

She replied, "But we're family.  And Families share."

I want to cry right now. 

So all those times maybe she was listening! And I don't say this to brag about my parenting...because it is SO not brag-worthy.  And I don't write this simply to brag about my sweetheart child (but let's be honest that is a small part of it). But I write this as an encouragement to you moms who also have themselves on repeat to what feels like deaf ears.  They do listen.  And sometimes you get to hear them say, and see them act on something you've been trying to teach them for years. 

Monster Spray

Chloe is so full of imagination these days, and I love it.  I love every second of it...well except for the 1:30 wake ups because there is a monster in Chloe's room. Imaginations are great and fun and full of entertainment in the middle of the day, in the middle of the night...well Chloe's scared and mommy is cranky. So it's a good thing I learned a fantastic tip from a parent magazine or book years ago.  Monster spray.  Best invention, er, fake invention ever.

You see big imaginations are able to imagine horrible monsters and believe that a magic spray will kill and banish them from any room.  So when Chloe mentioned monsters in her room, we made a call.  A call to daddy at work asking him to buy "monster spray".

He called (after listening to Chloe's message) and asked "What do you want me to buy??" So I explained he just needed to buy a spray, any spray, it could even be water.  We just had to tell Chloe that it was monster spray, and it kills monsters on contact and she'd believe it.

So hero daddy came home from work with apple Cinnamon scented monster spray, and he attacked all the monsters in the closet, and under the bed and vanquished the dreaded enemy, to the squealing delight of Chloe.  Now Chloe will gladly tell anyone how "There were monsters but Daddy killed them!" with a smile from ear to ear.

Yo...rescue dad ...coming to the rescue...al rescate! Rescue dad coming to the rescue!

Just the Way You Are

I didn't grow up at church.  I grew up attending a church with a neighbor now and then, went to a few VBS's and that was about it.  And so watching my kids grow up in a church amazes me. You see I remember Sunday school being boring, and waiting not so patiently for it to be done so I could be the first kid to get the to tire swing in back.  And the days I had to sit through big church...were squirmy-wormy agony. But my kids aren't like that, maybe it's the routine they are used to, maybe it's that they are completely different persons that I with much stronger will powers, maybe they are more easily amused.

Or maybe it's different.

Maybe my kids have already found something, or rather, Someone at church that eluded me as a child.  I memorized John 3:16 and the Lord's Prayer (simply for the rewards offered) but never knew what they meant or cared to know what they meant.  I never pondered God's word or His presence in my life. I knew God existed, I never doubted that, but I didn't really care that He did.  I thought Jesus was a great guy, but that was only when Sunday school made me think of Him, otherwise, well I was a busy kid you know.  Lots of playing and such.  Not enough time to ponder Jesus.  Or His role in my life.  Or why He made me.  Or how He saved me.

But my girls, they love Jesus.  And I don't say that to boast about my parenting.  Lord knows I have done enough to give good cause for therapy when they grow up.  I may have helped to point the way, but by God's will they have tasted and seen that the Lord is good.  They love to be at church.  They love not only the play time after but BEING in class.  They learn.  They seek.  They ask me questions about God I never would have thought to ask at their age.  They see Jesus as I never did when I was a child.  And I love it.

And every time I see them scamper off to their class, before I can even think of telling them to head there I smile.  Because I know they feel Him calling and just want to be in His presence.  Serena's favorite book at the moment is Just As You Are by Max Lucado.  In it a king comes to adopt some orphan children, who all get so busy trying to impress him that they miss it when he comes for them.  But one little orphan girl wasn't too busy, and only wanted to talk to him, to be near him and she found the king. Serena soaks up that story because she loves to just be with people, and thus she loves to just be with God.  And she loves knowing that she needn't impress Him with what she can do, He loves her because she is His. For a perfectionist, it is rest to not feel as though you need to do to be loved. And every time I read it to her I want to cry when I see her contented sigh eyes. Because. It. Is. A. Beautiful. Sight.

And she tells everyone about God, with reckless abandon, because she loves to share her life and He is so much a part of her life! The other day at daddy's softball game she, as usual, was talking the ear off someone by us in the stands.  And she said "My middle name is Jean.  After my great-grandma,  But she died, and she's in Heaven.  Do you know Jesus? Are you going to Heaven?" Without presumption, without hesitation, without prejudice.  She just speaks out of the over flow of her heart, and her heart is alive with Jesus.

Now I am not saying my kids are perfect. They aren't. They do dumb and mean things all the time.  They are human and no human is perfect.  And they are kids and kids are still learning all about life and this hard, hard thing called "self-control".  But they love Jesus.  And I already see Him working wonders in their lives.  And in their hearts.  And subsequently in my heart too.

Thank You Jesus that You are AT my church.  And that You are IN my life.  And that You dwell IN the hearts of my children. Thank You Jesus for just being You, because that is more than enough.  And thank You that You forgave me for all my sins, past, present and future.  Thank You that You were willing to die for all my self-righteous talk, and attitude.  Thank You for keeping a hold of me, when as a child, I never cared for You.  And thank you for keeping a hold of me, when as an adult I ran from You.  And thank You for keeping me now as I try so hard to seek You and not just what You can give me.

If I had only known at age 8 that THIS is what You were offering...if only. But thank You that at 29 I can know.  And thank You that my kids can know, now too.

Daily Conversations

My little ray of spunk-shine is talking and talking all the more, which I guess kind of happens as they grow. 

Well at 3 1/2 the FUNNIEST stories come out of her mouth, and I have NO IDEA where she gets them from.  And BTW 15 is her favorite number to give to anything that has to do with money, and after a trip to the 99 cent store, she now tells stories of the 15 money store...all the time.
 "I bought my puppy at the 15 money store.  My puppy was 20 bucks, so I gave them 20 bucks."
  So I asked her,
"How much does a cat cost at the 15 money store?"
"$500, a quarter and 1 money"
"Oh how much does a lizard cost?"
"I don't know...5 bucks"
"And how about a bunny rabbit?"
"I don't know"
"Well how about a hampster?"
"They don't sell hampsters.  They try to bite your teeth like this (chomping motion).  They are creepy.  They don't sell those."

And she was serious the whole time she told me that story...that's the best part.

Stress Case

Okay so I have a confession to make....I am a HORRIBLE house keeper.  I hate cleaning with a passion, unless I am once again hopped up on the 'roids, but that is another post entirely.

So since I hate cleaning I put it off until last minute.  Which means I feel guilty about having people over, because what will they think of me?? Will they say I am lazy and awful?  Will they feel sorry for poor Brian who has to live in a pigsty? So before anyone comes over, I clean like a MAD WOMAN.  I mean I am on the ground cleaning  the corner behind the trash can, so maybe whoever comes over will not think that I have ignored that little corner for 5 months, which I probably have.  You know, because whenever someone comes over, the first thing they do is look for the spots I missed cleaning, right?

Yeah, I have finally realized that, well, no one actually cares to check if there are cobwebs under my stairs, or dust in the corner of my kitchen floor, or if things in my pantry are neat and orderly.  Because I have NEVER gone to someone elses house and looked at those things.  I never stare at their baseboards, or corners.  I don't check to see if there is dust behind the TV, so why do I freak out about that when someone is coming to my house? I mean honestly if I go to some one Else's home and it's not completely clean I feel better.  Like I have met a kindred soul who doesn't spend their life making a clean house all the time. And then I feel better about my house. 

I go through these stages where I clean the whole thing, top to bottom, for an entire day.  And I feel great about it.  But the next morning it's a mess again.  Unless I follow everyone around the house and pick up after them constantly. Which is miserable.  Which makes me crabby.  And really my kids and hubby would probably prefer dishes in the sink and shoes on the floor over a crabby mom.

So today, trying to ever stretch myself past my comfort zone, I said yes.  I said yes to an impromptu play date with Serena's friend after school even though my house will still a disaster from the day before.  Because really what 8 year old cares if I have dishes in my sink, or toys in my living room? Exactly.  No 8 year old would care, so why should I?  And her friend came over, and they did homework and played and it was great. 

As I see it I have 3 choices:

1. Spent all the time cleaning so that this self consciousness is a non-issue.
2.  Go back to work and hire a maid.
3. Get over it and live.

Though door number one is tempting on paper, I know it doesn't work for me.  And door number two is ridiculous.  So door number three it is.  I will clean the best I can and I will welcome life, kept or unkempt house.

A post full of holes

I have this thing in my life, and I call it a thing because it's personal and shouldn't be named in a public forum for just anyone to read and talk about.  It's far too embedded in my soul to let all the world see.  BUT with it comes these feelings that kind of need an outlet, so here goes:

___________ causes me pain, not everyday but most days.  I tried for a long time to fix it by myself, but quickly learned I didn't have the power to do so.  I prayed, like Paul for God to remove the thorn from my side, to fix _________, but every time I prayed that, His answer, quietly, sweetly in my ear would be "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9).  And I am grateful and sad all at the same time.  Because without my God I would be a lost soul, wandering this earth aimlessly, just as I did in my prodigal years.  But I also know my God can fix _________ if He wanted too.  It is not too big for Him, He could with a word change everything...but He doesn't.

Now I was recently looking back on my life and realized that I am the kind of soul that prefers to be stubborn and pigheaded and learn things the hard way.  Why listen to good, sound advice, or promptings from the Holy Spirit if I can experience something I shouldn't and bring onto myself a mountain of self inflicted pain? Sigh.  There were times where I KNEW I was stepping beyond God's will for me, but I had to go and know for myself, and then I came limping home begging for Him to help me fix it.  He is faithful all the time; no matter how faithLESS I am.  He brings healing to the pain I brought on myself.

And _________ started because of my sin.  Because of my pigheaded know-it-all living.  But the thing is it has stayed bad, even though my heart has been striving after Jesus for years.  I went through a period of time where I thought I would stick my fingers in the ears on my pig-head and act like I didn't know what God wanted and fix it myself.  HA, that would make everything better....right? But The Spirit kept reminding me of the messes I'd made of myself by wandering off His path, and even if I could not see where He was taking me, it was better than where I wanted to head.  So I listened, I obeyed and came to my senses and made a resolution.  A resolution to follow Him in ____________ no matter how much it hurt.  Because I would trust in His promises, not my own feelings and wisdom (HA! I use that word LOOSELY).

But the resolution doesn't stop the pain of _________, it only tells me where to go with that pain.  And I know that God is working out __________ for my good, and someday I will see it and praise Him with tears flowing like rivers from my eyes, and I will proclaim His goodness from the rooftop.  And I know this because I caught a glimpse of it the other day.  Something I thought I would never see, never be told, never feel happen.  And it was as it a piece of a black curtain was removed, all be it a small piece, but a piece none the less, and I can kind of see something bright and beautiful hiding behind it. ____________ will not hurt forever, but even if it does, yet will I praise Him.

Reading through one of my favorite books of the Bible left me with this phrase, that I cling to every time I feel my pigheadedness telling me to rush things, and try to fix it myself.  Here is the original verse, Daniel 3:16-18: "Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to the king, "O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter.  If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king.  But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."

They faced death and would not renounce their God, they knew that whether or not He saved them, God was still God and God was still good.  So here is what I have held onto from the time I read that on "My God can fix ____________, but EVEN IF HE DOESN'T, yet will I praise Him." Just like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego I realize that ___________ is but a temporary pain, but the glory awaiting me in Heaven is eternal.  For now __________ makes me cry and cry, but I have a Savior who promised He will "wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." (Revelation 21:4) And He promised me that:"In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you." (John 14:2)

I have faith that my God will fix ________________, that He will make me cry tears of joy when He does.  But if I die before this pain is taken away, that's okay, because I know what awaits me in Heaven; promises fulfilled.

So that others may live

Brian and I were watching this show the other night before bed called "Surviving the cut" and it was showing the grueling physical tests that soldiers go through to "try-out" to be Para-Jumpers.  They are the guys that jump from airplanes to go into combat zones and save wounded and bring home the bodies of the dead.  They go into situations in real danger and endure carrying wounded and dead men out of combat to waiting airplanes.  Its mentally and physically taxing.  Watching the show made me wonder how anyone could ever endure the training let alone the actual job.  Then they stated their motto "So that others may live".  And I was floored with appreciation. 

But my mind couldn't leave it there, because I have started a new book called "Becoming a Contagious Church." And it talks about how knowing your Church's mission statement is vital to being effective.  Not only knowing it but making decisions based on it so that you stay focused so that you don't let the good become the enemy of the best (my favorite quote from my favorite youth pastor). So I have been muling that over in my brain.  My church's motto is "Helping people find and follow Jesus Christ".  And being that children's ministry is my main focus I realized I need to remind myself when I am freaking out about a craft or game not working that my main goal is to "Help Children find and follow Jesus Christ".  And what about my moms group work, it needs to be centered around "Helping moms and their children find and follow Jesus Christ."  Easy-peasy right?  K.I.S.S.  Keep it simple sweety.

Well, Children's Ministry and the Moms group are my current jobs within the body of believers I call family, but God has also entrusted me with 2 wonderful little daughters of His in my own personal family. And this is where that show gave me inspiration.  You see this summer, I am sure like every summer is wonderful and slower paced, and also full of fighting children, mean spirited sisters, and
"mom mom mommy mom mom mom mommy mom mom mom" "What are doing?"
"Going to the bathroom."
"Can you get me some food?"
"Not from the bathroom."
"Oh when you're done?"
"Yes"
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
 "Are you done yet?"

So long story short some days have been, well, tiring and trying.  But after reading that book (well just beginning it actually) and watching that amazing show, this is my new motto for motherhood.

SO THAT OTHERS MAY GROW

Cause Lord knows I hate waking up at night for any reason, and my kids are good at finding reasons to wake me up. And I hate cleaning up poop from the little potty Chloe insists on using even though she can use the regular potty JUST FINE. And I hate dishes.  And bickering children make me want to pull my hair out.  BUT

I am not doing all of those things because I enjoy doing them.  I am doing them because my job as their mother is to help them grow.  God blessed me with babies and asks me to help mold them into the women God made them to be.  And some days are bliss, most days are wonderful and some days make me want to lay on the kitchen floor and have a tantrum RIGHT THERE WITH THEM. 

But my job is to keep persevering and doing the hard tasks that I know will pay off.  Like trying to train them in conflict resolution other than "MOM!!!!!!!!!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DID??"  Because someday they will face the challenge of difficult people and I won't be there to walk them through it.  And I teach them to be nice to their sister and respect her above any friends because someday their bond will be one of the most meaningful things in their adult life, and it will outlast any and all friendships.  And I have to train them in doing the right thing, not because of fear of being caught, but because it is the right thing.  Because I will not always be there with them to make the right decisions for them.  I need to let them face the consequences of missing out on Girl Scouts, and play dates and being late to school, when thier actions call for it, because I cannot shield them from everything in life, and they need to learn the sting of the consequences of poor decisions now.  Someday they will make decisions with consequences I can't fix for them.  And though I hate to see them hurt and angry when I make them face the consequences of their own decisions, and I hate to send them to their room and listen to them cry until they work it out together,

 I NEED TO DO IT,

So that others might grow.

And I know that a sister, me when at home

I bet you thought I lost it for a minute, huh?

Well I didn't.

In case I haven't yet mentioned my darling little 3 year old is not only a daredevil, but also loves to sing.  And by loves to sing I mean belts out any and every song she knows at volume 10.  Cause duh, that's how you're supposed to sing.  She even closes her eyed dramatically every once in a while, and then does the eyed closed, slight bow of the head after each one to tell you she'd done.  Well done long enough for applause anyway.

So I love to listen to her sing all day, especially when she gets the words wrong.  It reminds me of my mom.  And then I laugh even more.

She has been all about singing "King Jesus is all" lately.  If you don't know it, go Here

So she gets most of the lyrics right, except when it comes to "And I know that He'll answer, me when I call"

She sings, you guessed it "And I know that a sister, me when at home."

Oh Lord, how I heart that little girl.

Regression

Remember this post? I do, I was dancing all over the house as we gave up diapers.  It was followed by weeks of bliss as Chloe woke to dry panties and peed a gallon in the potty every morning.  Then she had a few accidents, which were no biggie, after all she's 3 and they happen.  So we started cutting off liquids by 5, since she goes to bed at 6:30, and figured that would solve the problem, and it did, for a while.  But then for the last 3 weeks she's had more accident filled nights then dry nights. And honestly I am sick and tired of waking up at 2 am to "Mommy I peed on my bed."  Which means I have to get up and strip her down, wipe her off and either change her sheets or let her sleep on her little futon couch on my floor.  The first few times I changed the sheets, but the last two weeks I was exhausted and tired of broken sleep every night so I left the sheets for the morning and set up her futon on my floor every night.

And yesterday I decided, forget it, she's going back to diapers.  It's summer, I can't limit her intake of liquids anymore without being bad for her, and she obviously sleeps too soundly to wake up with the urge to pee. And I am tired of washing her sheets/blankets/pillow/blankie/ and teddy bear everyday.  So last night we broke down and bought a pack of diapers.  And I felt RELIEF.  I let out a sigh as I laid down to sleep, certain this would end the problem.

Then at 5 am, I here the waddle waddle swish of a diaper clad butt running into my room "Mommy I have pee on my bed".  WHAT??? I say "But you're wearing a diaper!"  And yes, she was wearing a diaper, that was filled to the brim with pee and had overflowed onto her bed.

Life is funny.  It's practically comical.  I gotta laugh, cause otherwise carrying another load of stinky pee sheets down the stairs.....

It's been a while...

So I feel like I haven't blogged in quite sometime, because I have gone through 1000's of years of history in the books I have been DEVOURING, so forgive me if I have seemed distant.  Because well I have been in ancient Israel, Moab, Rome, Ephesus, Jerusalem, Capua, Germania, and well all that traveling reading has left me with little time to type out my thoughts and feelings and stuff.

So here are the 4 books that I have devoured in less than a month:

This one is the fictionalized story of the 5 women in Jesus lineage.  Starting with Tarmar, then Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary.  Powerful, humanizing, and totally relatable.

This is the first in a 3 book series, starting with a girl taken as a slave by the Romans at the fall of Jerusalem, it follows her, the Roman family who buys her, and a captured warrior turned Gladiator.  Who would have thought so many ancient Roman practices mirror modern day America? Oh yeah I think Solomon wrote about that is Ecclesiastes "Nothing new under the sun".

The continuation following the family who bought the slave girl, a bit about the gladiator, just as riveting and forcing me to stay up til 3am reading kind of book.

The last of the series, I felt like I was saying goodbye to an old friend after I devoured this one in 2 days.  SO good.  So much better than I had thought it would be, and so sad there are only 3 books in the series.

So now, I need to find another good book, or take a break from reading for a few days...who knows. And who would have thought after being GIVEN a car by a fantastic family at my church I would be sitting at home reading as much as I have...but man oh man when a good page turner gets a hold of, there is no putting it down.

And while in the midst of my book fever, I got my kids in the car and drove to a far off library, cause my library didn't carry the book, and I obviously could not wait to grip my teeth into book two of the series.  And on the way home I had a lovely reminder of my smarty-pants-daughters' critical thinking skills.  She was reading "I know an old lady who swallowed a fly" to Chloe and I on the long trek home and as she finished I remarked "I don't even know how someone could swallow a horse!" Thinking she'd laugh, or wonder out loud, instead she replied "It's fiction mom".

I love that girl.

Thier doormat said "grace"

Their doormat said "GRACE" and they let me wipe my feet on it.
You see, I had been on a rather long journey and I was covered in filth. Filth of my own doing, muck of my own making, drudgery of my own design. But I had made it back, and my Father welcomed me with open arms, but would they?

I had left for my journey, turned my back on my Father, on my family, on my identity and I had forfeited my place.
And I had come back with a Scarlet "P" across my belly.
My Daddy saw past my actions and saw my heart; my heart beaten and bruised by the wild thorns that had there found fertile soil just a few years before.
But would my family see me as I was before,
or as a has-been-but-not-welcome-anymore?
I feared the gossip that I deserved.
I was a growing magnet of attention. I felt naked and exposed; for all the world could see my sin.

I feared my cherished place was gone for good; my station filled, my seat taken.

But when I walked up to my beloved church, my Father had already gone ahead and cleared a spot for me.
My family laid out a doormat for me that said "GRACE", and they told me to wipe my feet on it.
See, they knew I'd been on a long journey, and saw that I was covered in filth.
Filth of my doing, muck of my own making, drudgery of my own design.
And they could see that filth was heavy, slowing my down, and they helped me wipe my feet and showed me to my special place that they had left open for me.
No need for this scarlet letter any more they said, your debt was already paid by a Savior on a cross, by your Father long before you ever left. See, we've all had our scarlet letters, we've all been covered in some muck, and we all found our Daddy and He welcomed us with open arms.
And then He led us to this place;
to a doormat that said "GRACE"
and He said "Go in, your family longs to see your face."

And I cried as I understood so deep within my soul, that Daddy knew my wild heart would need a place to grow.
And so He put me here, amongst my fellow freedom friends,
to learn and grow and learn to make amends...
with life's mistakes, and filth and muck.
And to make a warm place to welcome the next traveler who needs to rest in a place whose doormat reads "GRACE".

Crying...just a little

Or a whole lot, if we're honest.

I am going through my daughters old clothes. Which sounds like a mundane task, and it should be a mundane task, but instead it's a heartbreaking one.

I am making a pile of all of Chloe's old clothes to give away, cause she's growing and no matter how much I ask her to stop, she just keep growing. Serena too, apparently my children don't want to obey the "never grow up, okay?" request I make of them often.

And the pile makes me cry, and the fact that I am giving them away makes me cry even more. The fact that I have no more babies to save them for, which is why I am giving them away, is heartbreaking.

Most of the clothes in the pile made it through both my kids, and I can remember how both of them looked in the outfits...and where we went in those outfits, and the memories made in those outfits. And now they are leaving my house, for good.

I am pretty sure we're done having kids, which some days feels like a good, right, smart thing to do. And other days, like today it feels like I am saying goodbye to a wonderful time in my life. Like I am waving as a dear old friend sails away on a boat, a friend whom I will never meet again.

I am trying my hardest to have a great attitude about no more kids, trying to remember to be "full" with the blessings God has given me and to stop wishing I was getting more. And really looking ahead to working again doesn't bother me. I am happy to be heading where I am heading, but sad to be leaving where I am leaving.

I always hoped I'd know when I was "done". And it would be a matter-of-fact feeling deep in my heart, but it's not. I feel like I am sort of resigned to it, rather than accepting of it.

And maybe I shouldn't ever sort through my children's' old clothes ever again when I am only days from my monthly visit from Aunt Flo. Because, I don't need any other reasons to want to cry about everything and nothing this week.

Get off the fence.

I love, love, love, love listening to music about my Jesus when I am in the car (I am not as much a music at home kind of person). And when I have listened to my Tenth Avenue North, Casting Crowns, and Supertones Cd's to my fill I turn on "The Fish".

I have a love/hate relationship with "The Fish". I love the music, I ADORE the music. I hate the talk. The DJ's aren't vulgar, they aren't gossiping about celebrities like it's the most important thing in the world, but they also aren't being authentic about what their station is about.

I can't remember ever hearing the DJ's mention the name of Jesus, they generically mention God, talk about "random acts of kindness", doing "good" things", and all the like, but never do they mention Jesus. Which I find funny, because the songs are all about Jesus. They are unapologetic and sold out for Jesus. The singers and musicians featured on "The Fish" are Christian artists, gladly singing about their Savior. The music isn't watered down feel good stuff, so why are all their talk shows watered down, never mentioning Jesus, junk?

Now usually I just tune out what they say, and wait for the music to come on, but the other day I actually felt compelled to turn the radio off, because I was afraid of my daughter hearing what the DJ's were saying.

They got on the topic of how families these days don't spend enough time together, to which I agree. They said that we are all over committed, to which I also agree. Then the morning DJ says "We're all over committed, you know we love soccer and we love going to church but sometimes it all too much, and we need to learn to cut things out."

HOLD THE PHONE.

Did she really just lump going to church and kids sports teams together, as if they are the same thing?? Really did the "Christian" station just say that church was just another over-commitment weighing down our families?

You know, because of all those families torn apart because they went to church together.

How is going to church and showing your kids that following God and having fellowship with believers is vital to you, a misplaced priority? I cannot love my kids or my husband the way I am supposed to without having God as my number one priority. Because if God isn't my number one, then I quickly forget to put others before me and I get wrapped up in my own self-importance, and forget that I am here to first and foremost follow Jesus and secondly serve others.

Now I know, "The Fish" doesn't claim to be a "Christian station". They only say "Safe for the whole family". But maybe in there lies the problem. It's a schizophrenic message. The music says one thing, and the DJ's say another. Who really would listen to music SO centered on Jesus if they only cared about their kids not hearing curse words? Might as well turn on Radio Disney for that. I have never met a non-Christian who listened to "the Fish". So why do they try to be so generic? Why can't they talk about Jesus? And the Bible? And I don't know talk about the value of Christian fellowship by going to church together?

So I leave my ranting message with a line from a wonderful song by the Orange County Supertones,

The problem's not Hollywood, the problem's not Washington, the problem's a weak divided Church of schism Christians.

Respect. Gratefulness. Awe.

Last Saturday I took my Dad to the Azuza Pacific Dead Sea Scrolls and beyond exhibit, as his Father's day present. First off, let's just say the Dead Sea Scroll part was lack luster. There were 5 small pieces, and by pieces I mean the size of my thumb. I think it should have been called treasures of Bible history and 5 little unreadable pieces of Dead Sea Scrolls, because the most amazing awe inspiring part of the exhibit wasn't the Dead Sea Scrolls. Now what the Dead Sea scrolls stand for; the archaeological proof of how well preserved every word of Scripture has been through the ages is amazing and reassuring, and gratifying. However the rest of the exhibit humbled me and left me wishing I had more words to say that day, but my brain was too busy muling it all over.

There were examples of the first Bibles written, old hymnals, etc. And as I studied how intricately each one was designed and hand written with such meticulousness, with such beauty I was floored. Every Bible I have ever owned was printed, with marginal notes from fantastic thinkers, philosophers and amazing Christians who have already gone to meet their Savior. And the only reason I am able to have this is because of the life and time consuming passion for God's word those before me had.

If I go to, let's say Amazon.com and search "Bible" wanna know how many choices I have? 275,025. And that's just on ONE website. I can go to Target, Walmart, Barnes and Noble, Borders, Family Christian Bookstore, Life Way Christian store, etc, etc, etc and pick up one of many Bibles, in different translations, with different commentaries, font sizes, really the possibilities are endless. They even have Chronological Bibles (and man oh man do I want one!!). But back then, to have a Bible meant someone spend countless hours handwriting every chapter of every book, and left room for elaborate drawings to illustrate the stories being lovingly retold in it. Churches had Bibles, the people did not. After all they cost a pretty penny with some much work going into each one. In fact having a Bible was a treasure, not a common place thing.

Then the exhibit got into the translations of the Bible, and that's when my list of who I want to talk to in Heaven, and soak up their life experiences and the faithfulness of God grew quite a bit.
. Wylcife risked his life to translate the Bible into English, so that more and more common people could hear and know and soak in the Word of God. And he didn't just use Latin texts to translate, he went back to the original Hebrew and Greek texts and translated them directly into English. What an amazing feat, what a work! Wyclife lived out Ephesians 2:10 for sure. And what kind of earthly honor did he receive? None. His rewards were reserved for heaven.

Then I came across Tyndale ( there were others talked about, key people I am skipping over, like Luther and Calvin,but these 2 men really stuck out in my head.)
How was he rewarded for trying to bring an English Bible to England?

He was executed for trying to bring God's word to the people. But he did it anyway. He didn't give up, he didn't give in, and in the end he prayed for the king. What an example. What a man of faith. His biography is next on my list of things to read.

Then there were more examples of people translating the Bible into their own languages, treasures troves of Bibles with hand written notes, (my favorite kind of Bible). I really wish I spoke German so that I could read Luther's own notes in his Bible. How amazing would that be, to see the way the Spirit touched his heart with each individual scripture? Wow.

Then it came to the Bible in the America's, the new world. And there were Bibles in different native American dialects and I wanted to cry. We all know the horrific things done to Native Americans by the European settlers, some of them in "the name of God". Taming the "savages". Even though we were the savage ones.

But there were some men, who really came only to teach them the love of a Savior.




What a history my Bible has. What a great number of people who's faith in God was not hindered or shattered by the obstacles they faced in doing the work He gave them. What a great testimony that my God is the same today as He was then and will always be; Forever and ever, amen.

Liar, liar pants on fire.

Commercials make me angry. Not because there are so many, or that they interrupt my shows at the best parts, but because quite often they are less than truthful.

I first noticed around Christmas, Valentines, and Mother's day how the frequency of jewelery commercials shoots through the roof. They are on the TV, in the mail, on the radio, on billboards. You can't avoid them. They are constant, and persistent. They are aimed at men, telling them that if they only buy this open heart, or 3 jeweled something then that means they love their wife. Their wife needs it, and if she is actually of any value to them, then they must rush to Kay or Zales and buy this new item. And don't worry, the next holiday will have another must-have-if-you-actually-love-your-wife-at-all item. Now am I denouncing jewelery? Nope. Am I saying husbands are wrong for buying those new necklaces and rings and bracelets for their wives? Not at all. If my husband spoiled me with new jewelery I wouldn't complain AT ALL. What I hate is the WAY these items are advertised. If you think I'm being dramatic, next Christmas count the amount of jewelery commercials and listen to what they say and imply.. Last Christmas there was a commercial on the Fish, you know the Christian station, full of uplifting music centered on Jesus? The commerical was a conversation between a wife and husband and you can hear the wife's thoughts and she calls her husband "an idiot" for not knowing to buy her that new ring from such and such jewelery company. I found myself yelling at the radio, by myself in the car. The people next to me probably thought I was crazy, and maybe I am, but advertisements like that truly rub me the wrong way.

Now, I do appreciate the intelligence behind some ads (the Shick personal trimmer ad makes me laugh EVERY DANG TIME), and I am sure it's rough to stand out in a sea of thousands upon thousands of products. And it is tricky to convince us Americans that there is yet another item we cannot live without, right?

And by chance do your kids watch Saturday Morning cartoons? Cause those guys are smart too, as soon as it nears Christmas EVERY ad is about toys, toys the kids need to be cool, to have fun. Toys that are obviously way better than anything else they have ever had and that they totally need RIGHT NOW. I sat down one day to watch them with Serena and after every commercial, she'd look at me with a big grin and say "I want that!" And being the commercial hating mom I am we talked about how commercials lie. Only I didn't say it like that so much. I said if we watched 2 pizza commercials, for 2 different companies, who both said their pizza is the best, can they both be right? Can two things be the best? Or what about (insert toy name here) that we got and it was nothing like the commercials, and not really fun at all? Commercials are meant to make you want to buy stuff, that's their job. She got it (as much as an 8 year old can really get it), but it's still a struggle with every new toy that's advertised.

Well the other day I saw a commercial for Chef Boy-R-Dee that made me mad. "A full serving of vegetables in every can." Yeah, so maybe that's NOT a lie, but the underlying message is that can of ravioli is a healthy food choice for your kids. But what ELSE is in that can of "healthy"? Half a can has 240 calories, 7g of fat, 3g saturated fat, 20 mg cholesterol, and 1180mg of sodium!!!!!!!!!!!! The sodium level is half of an ADULTS daily amount of sodium, so if you eat the whole can you may get a serving of vegetables, but look what comes along with it!

So here's what I want you to do, next time you're watching TV, really watch the commercials, don't flip to another channel. Watch them, and listen to them. To what they say, what they imply, and how they lie by omission. And see that I'm not crazy, commercials lie, lie, lie!

Slug Mercedes!

My darling is in the Newport-Mesa school district, and for the summer they have a Science and Math camp for like 2 1/2 weeks. They change the location every year, and only a handful of kids from each school get in. Well this year it was at our school, and my baby was lucky enough to be picked. Today was day three, and I am still in awe of the dynamics of it.

First of all since there are only a few kids from each school, there is NO ONE walking their child to school besides me. There is no crossing guard because it's only me, and my stroller and my angel walking (well plus a few parents who park across the street, but most of them j-walk...saves the whole 30 second commute to the crosswalk).

And the biggest shock to my system, the amount of very wealthy people, driving up in their very expensive cars and SUV's walking out of those fancy-shmancy cars wearing (insert designer name here) shoes, wearing (insert designer name here) glasses. To which I immediately say to myself "They must be from Newport."

Then I started thinking how awful I was for already judging them, and not because they are bad, or doing anything wrong, but because they have what I probably never will; wealth.

Well, lucky for me, my God knows how easily I can slip into the "I wish I had...." mode, so this morning my daily Bible verse in my inbox said, "When you have eaten and are full, then you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you." Deuteronomy 8:10.

So I need to thank God that after we got married God moved Brian and I from a room at my moms house to a junior one bedroom apartment. Then we moved from a junior one bedroom to bigger one bedroom. Then from a one bedroom in the ghetto of Garden Grove to a spacious 2 bedroom in suburban Costa Mesa. And I need to ignore the line of Mercedes streaming past my house like a motorcade, because I am blessed enough as I am.

Who the *bleep* am I to complain? What country do I live in? How many luxuries do I take for granted, like health care, an abundance of clothing, running CLEAN water, my pantry and frig being full, my kids not dying of Malaria or Dysentery, my washer and dryer in my house, my yard, my dog, my husband that works so that I can be home with my kids, etc, etc ETC!!!

So today I will be "full" with what I have and I will thank my God for filling me so abundantly full. And I will forget the Mercedes, and be happy with the Sentra I share with my husband.

Room Mom Review

Why am I posting now you ask? Because the class party is in an hour and I am ready to go...but having to wait to go. So yay, blogging time!

This year was my first year as room mom (with 2 lovely other women, who I couldn't have done it without, honestly). And it has been great, and busy and crazy and, well, great.

Serena was proud of me, and if you're a mom, you know how great it feels for your child to smile proudly and say, "That's MY mom."

And so all the stress of last minute details, all the extra time and effort because some parents feel no need to chip in, OR let me know they aren't going to chip in was not in vain. I am so happy that I did this.

The beginning of the year was nuts with holiday party after holiday party. But sigh, the year has flown by, and I can happily say I didn't miss it. I didn't just watch from the sidelines. I got in the game and it has been great. I have made some really nice mom friends, Chloe has deepened her excitement to someday go to "Se-ya's school". And most of all I made memories with my daughter.

Maybe someday she'll say, "Remember that thanksgiving party with the 'I know an old lady who swallowed a pie' theme?" And I'll say, "Yes I do, it was fun wasn't it?"

Or "Remember that last day of school party where we played games, took silly pictures and ate treats?" and I'll say, "I know that was so fun!" And I'll mean it, because I was there and it was a blast.

And I probably won't remember the frantic getting ready for the party days, or the parents who didn't care. I'll remember my daughter laughing and smiling. I will remember her friends hugging me and saying hi to me on the playground and in the neighborhood. I'll remember the craziness of 21 2nd graders going nuts at a party. And I will smile, and probably cry, cause right now I am holding back the tears so that I can type unhindered.

Just like I remember my mom being at all our parties, with my little Cousin Matt in tow, bringing in her fabulous baked treats, I want my daughter to fondly remember my presence. I don't remember my mom ever being frazzled about it all, and I hope that's not what Serena remembers either. I hope she looks back, and sees me smiling and playing with her. And if that is how she remembers this experience, then I did at least one thing right.

See! I Knew it!

So remember This post?
Not my childs finest day.

But like I said she has a sweet heart and yesterday I got to be the almost crying proud mom because of it.

It was the last Brownie meeting of the year, and they were giving out awards, and patches and all that jazz. They got to the end and the leader was going to present the coleader with a gift, and she said:

"Serena can you come up and present this to Ms. Michelle. We picked Serena to do this, and let me tell you why. She wrote both Michelle and I very sweet thank you notes that really meant a lot to us. So Serena can you hand this to Ms. Michelle?"

I held back the tears, barely.

My girl can do the most absolute kind gestures, and that's the girl I know, and it was so amazing to see someone else seeing her, for her heart.

And stupid me forgot my camera, dangit.

Save the drama for your mama Monday

Dishes: I liken thee to Mt. Kilamajaro

Laundry: I liken thee to Mt Everest!

Yet I have conquered thee both! Victory is mine!


Anyone else wanna join in the overly dramatic prose??

Friendship Friday

You know how sometimes those simple little things make your day? Well today Chloe and I headed to Rachel's house for a playdate. The girls played well together for 4 hours while we chatted. It was such fun. If you're a mom you know the wonder of chit-chatting with another mom while the kids play safely and happily nearby. It's like a battery recharge.

Well, she also went out to her garden and picked, trimmed, and arranged some hydrangeas for me to take home. Cause feeding and entertaining Chloe and I wasn't enough. A simple gesture from a sweet friend, that totally made my day.

Morning by morning...

New blessings I see.

This morning I told Serena I was going to the Dr today, to see if they needed to take my tonsils out.






Here is our conversation:

Her: Will it hurt
Me: Yeah, but they'll give me medicine for it.
Her: Okay, take my hands.

I gave her my hands, and she says

"Let's pray."

That's right, my 8 year initiated praying for me. She prayed that the Dr wouldn't have to take out my tonsils, and that it wouldn't hurt me.

It was sweet as pie and a memory I will engrave deep in my brain, to never be forgotten.

Just...a...little...nudge

If you have not yet read, or inferred, I have 2 kids. An 8 year old girl and 3 year old girl. Both amazingly, completely different. My eldest is kind of timid when it comes to trying new things. And by timid I mean, I get to be the mean looking momma bird that is shoving the baby bird out of the nest, just so she can realize she has working wings that will make her soar.

Last spring we took her for swim lessons. And as I watched her I had a flashback to my grandma doing the doggie paddle, not getting a droplet of water on her make-up or hair. She wouldn't even get her face wet for the first lesson, and by the end she had much improved, but was still not really swimming. So when summer came and we were at her aunties pool, she still had floaties. And she would not jump in. She was too afraid. So my nephew who's 5 and may be mistaken as a fish by strangers made fun of her. I thought about chastising him, but then realized, she was being a wimp. A 7 year old should be able to jump in a pool wearing floaties, heck a 7 year old should be able to do it without them. So I risked looking like a horrendous mother and said "He's right, you're 7, kids will make fun of you. Better buck up and learn to do it." So my darling girl stalled, and stalled, and whined, and finally I said "Jump or I'll throw you in."

(Now back the judgy truck up for a second, and let me explain. She can jump in, she had done it before, and I knew all she needed was the reminder that it was a fun thing, not a scary thing to get over it and play like a kid.)

So finally she cried. And I let her cry, and went to go throw her in. And she jumped. Angrily she jumped. She hated me. But she loved jumping in, and by the end of the summer she was sans floaties swimming. I knew she could do it. She just needed to get past her fear and enjoy the fun.

So this year I decided the same had to be done with the bike, cause training wheels on an 8 year old isn't really cute. (Now I know, if I had simply trained her younger this may not have been an issue, but I tried for years to nurture the bravery into her to no avail. So now I am using the push her to try method). So we took off her training wheels, took her to an empty school parking lot and let her loose. She did fantastic, and I started thinking, "What was I so worried about?" Well, the next day school was back in session so the parking lot was hopping, so we rode her bike on the sidewalk, which has less room for swerving, and errors, and she fell (onto grass softly, might I add) and she got frustrated and cried. But I made her keep going, because I knew if she gave up, that she'd never get back on that bike. Well after 10 minutes of crying, I let her stop and come in, and after she had calmed down I said "You know I love you the same, whether you ride a bike well or you fall, it doesn't matter, I still love you." And she replied, in dramatic fashion "No you don't! You forced me to do it like a slave!" I managed to turn my head and stifle the giggles, no small feat I tell you.

Well, flash forward about 2 months and she rides her bike happily like a champ. She is such a smart cookie, and she over thinks things, and gets herself all worked up before she even tries, so sometimes she needs a little push. And if I let her give up, she will. If I make her push through all the "What-ifs?" she does great...well...most of the time...


Yesterday we got to Brian's softball game early so the kids and I played at the park to kill some time before cheering him on, to victory might I add. She got up to the monkey bars and hung from the first one, and then quickly got her feet back on the platform. Then she asked me to hold her while she did it. Seriously? a 2nd grader needing a mom to carry her across the monkey bars, nope!! She can do it, I have seen her on the monkey bars before, but she was once again letting fear control her actions. Our conversation went like this:
Me: "No, sweetie, you can do it. Just get on and move one hand at a time, you'll be fine."
Her:"No I can't"
Me:"What's the worst thing that will happen?"
Her:"I'll fall"
Me:"Okay, if you fall, you'll fall 2 feet and land on your feet. You jump off higher stuff than this. You'll be fine. Go"
Her:"No"
(Now I am seeing that same face that wouldn't jump off the side of the pool, or ride her bike and I know it's time to be firm)
Me: "I want you to try. Hang there and try to move one of your hands, then you can be done."
Then she proceed to hang for 1/2 second then scramble back to get her feet on the platform, probably 15 times.
Her:"I can't do it!"
me: "Yes you can and we are not leaving until you try"
Her:"No, I can't do it"
So we go back and forth like this for a few minutes, and men are walking by heading to softball probably thinking I am the meanest mother EVER. And to be honest I felt like it, but I know this girl of mine, and sometimes she needs a shove.

So next I pull a dirty trick, because I refuse to have this argument for any longer. I have her come over to me, I hold her by the legs, have her grab the bar in the middle, and I let go and walk away.

Now remember her feet are literally 2 feet from the ground. I didn't leave her hanging off a building, or something, and the ground is that cushy foamy stuff.

Well, she was so determined NOT to do it that she moves her hand and falls instantly to the ground, and didn't land on her feet.

Oops. I didn't want her to eat it, I just wanted her to try. I still stand by my method, but she was tired from all that silly defiant hanging and crying. If she had tried any of the original 15 times she pretended to try she would have been fine. Or if I had pulled that stunt in the beginning, she would have had the strength.

So I apologized that she fell, feeling pretty bad about it (she was no worse off, no bumps, no cuts, nothing). We had a long talk about it, we're all good. I just wish she would have at least made it across a few bars, because then the fear would have lost, and I'm afraid this time fear got the best of her.

So one day soon, I will be mean mom again, and make her try the monkey bars again. I see her watch children fly across them with this "wooooow" look on her face and I want her to feel that, so badly. And I am willing to seem mean to do it.

Milestone marker...set.

Yup, that's right, Chloe has hit another milestone.

I will be marking this in her baby book.

And unlike most baby book posts that make me pine for her to stop growing, this is one I am ready to dance about.


What could it be you ask?

What is all the excitement for?


NO MORE DIAPERS! My wallet just did a jig right along side me.

She had been having dry diapers, followed by some slightly wet diapers at night on and off for the last month or so. Well, Sunday night it was hot and when I went to check on her and her sister before I went to sleep, I found a naked bum staring at me. I thought about waking her up to put the diaper back on, but stopped. I wanted to try it. And her mattress is plastic coated, so if she did pee I'd just have some more laundry to do, no biggie.

Well, she woke up dry, so we did it again Monday, and Tuesday and woo hoo!! No accidents, no diapers, just pure excitement all around.

Which is kinda too bad, cause I wanted to try these:






HAHAHAHA JUST KIDDING!

A New Bible

My mom asked my what I wanted for my birthday a few weeks back, and I knew I needed a new Bible. The Bible I had been using was given to me, by my parents for my 17th birthday, and the years not been good to it's binding. That Bible had been source of comfort, of correction, of counsel, of courage. It had been there with me when I was on fire for God and was waiting for me again after my years of prodigal living. It has quite a few notes, underlines, highlights, and post-it notes in it. It opens easily, and I can quickly find just about anything I am searching for; well worn pages are easy to flip through.

Well, now I have a NEW Bible. It smells new. It's still attached to it's binding...firmly. The pages are crisp and semi stuck together still, and it's pages are free of all my scribbles. It's exciting, and can I say it, kind of sad too.

My old Bible opens up to read "This Bible Belongs to Kathleen Marie Percival, presented on the occasion of my 17th birthday by my mom and dad." I still had my maiden name, I had no idea who would be my husband, what my kids names would be or what they'd look like. I had no idea what twists and turns and times of being up to my ears in muck my life would take. It's been a good, bad, ugly, fantastic, grace and mercy filled amazing 12 years, and now it's like I am putting a piece of my life up on a shelf. Maybe I am being overly sentimental, but it's not just a book to me.

So now I open my Bible and it says this book belongs to Kathleen Marie Alvarado, date 6-12-10. What will this Bible see me through? What kind of things will God place on my heart as I read through His word again and again? What will I underline, and circle and scribble feverishly next to?

Thanks to the words on those pages, and the Author who wrote them, I have the hope of knowing that whatever life throws my way, I still have Him. I still have His word, and no matter how many Bibles I wear down in my lifetime, that will never change.

stupid throat gate 2010 update

Yeah dumb title I know, but a week of no sleep leaves a lack of creativity in it's wake.

So yesterday was the first day it didn't feel like nails running down my throat every time I THOUGHT of swallowing, so I should have been in a great mood. But I was sleepy and tired, and sleepy and tired, so I did what any good mom would do: avoided my kids to avoid snapping at them. I should have channeled the Holy Spirits power and been patient, but instead I copped out and avoided. They watched movies and did busy work, cause I'm a good mom.

Well, things went better today, I slept last night, my throat is scratchy but not painful, so things are going well. I was nice to my kids today, and didn't avoid them like the plague, something I don't think I'd ever brag about, but whatever.

And I have an appointment with the ENT next week, and I'll get his opinion on to slice or not to slice out a body part. I don't know whether to hope for a yes, it's your tonsils and taking them out would make you peachy keen. OR no it's not your tonsils, it's just dumb luck. Better luck in 2011.

We'll see, I'm not worried, I know my God loves my inpatient, self-centered whiny self to pieces, and He'll be there no matter what, I am just ansty-pantsy for an answer.

Life is Funny

DING DING DING ROUND 3 of Kat V. STREP THROAT

Yeah 3 times in 2 months is not a good sign. In fact, my doctor had that look of "What's really wrong?" on his face as I explained the same symptoms once again.

So he is doing some blood tests on my immune system, but he said that's mostly to be thorough, if I had a problem with my immune system I would have something worse than strep throat most likely.

I am also being referred to an ENT because more than likely I will need my tonsils out. Yeah like a kid. Only I am 5 days from my 29th birthday. Seriously? So maybe my school friends can all make me cards and my mommy can give me my fill of ice cream for a few days, then the doctor can give me a lollipop as he sends me on my way.

Tonsillectomy, honestly? I went my entire childhood without strep or tonsillitis. Now at almost 30, I have to get them taken out. Comedy at it's finest ladies and gentlemen. I am seriously chuckling as I picture my kids caring for me as I get my tonsils out. Talk about role reversal.

So anyway, back to laying down and slurping down painful spoonful of soup after painful spoonful of soup. I just had to share the comedy of errors which is my throat right now.

As the sand runs through the hour glass...

...So are my 20's slowly fading into memories.

Remember when you thought 30 was old? I do. I remember thinking, oh my they're going to school in thier 30's, why? Thier life is almost over anyway. Yeah, I was that dumb as a kid. You know the kind of "know-it-all" dumb kid, that was me.

Anywho, I am less than 2 weeks from 29, the end of the 20's, almost at the big 3-0, and I am so fine with it.

I started off my 20's in the midst of a gigantic detour from God's will from my life. A detour that left me battered, bruised, jaded and wounded at the ripe ol age of 20. And some of those wounds have just in the last year or two been transformed into scars. No more bleeding, no more pain, just reminders of bad mistakes and a Good God who forgives and heals.

I think I'm ok with seeing the tail end of my 20's because unlike the dumb young kid I was I see that life keeps growing and changing and evolving. Yeah, I'm not 20 any more, but THANK GOD FOR THAT. Cause I was a stupid 20. I hope to be a smarter 30, and someday a wise 40, and a wiser 50 and a even wiser 60, and a wise-ass 70 year old who doesn't take life or death too seriously. Heck if God sees fit maybe I'll be a wise 80 and 90 year old.

I stand at the edge of what I used to consider old age (HA!), and I look happily and hopefully ahead, knowing that:

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

And you may not find any
you'll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you'll head straight out of town.

It's opener there
in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.

OH!
THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

You'll be on your way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.
You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you'll be the best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don' t
Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.

You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.

You'll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a Slump.

And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.
A place you could sprain both you elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That's not for you!

Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

With banner flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. there are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You'll be famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don't.
Because, sometimes, they won't.

I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

But on you will go
though the weather be foul
On you will go
though your enemies prowl
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3 / 4 percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!

To preschool or not to preschool, that is the question.

Chloe is 3, technically about 3 1/2 now (she is not at the age where I would get blasted for forgetting the "half", so I can say 3 and get away with it.)

Her birthday is at the end of December, thus past the cut off date for Kindergarten, so she still have 2 full schools years before kindergarten. She'll almost be 6 when she starts in Sept 2012. I have the option of putting her in our schools preschool program starting this September. They offer it for 2 years, there is a 3 year old class and a 4 year old class. The program is fantastic, and I can tell that the children love it, because older kids still go back and say hi to "Ms. Danielle" all the time.

But we'll never know first hand because my child isn't going to preschool.

You didn't read that wrong, she isn't going to preschool.

My eldest daughter went to preschool out of necessity; my husband and I both Had to work to make ends meet, so she went to preschool. She loved it, she thrived in it, and I had no problems with it then. And in fact I still have no problem with preschool. My husband and I have just decided that we don't need it for Chloe.

She loves "school" she has been a part of the morning routine at Serena's school for 3 years now, she knows the pledge of allegiance,at least 3 other patriotic songs that they sing, and their school cheer by heart. She even gets down when the bell rings, like the older kids do. She thrives on interacting with Serena's friends, and does amazingly well at all class parties, and school functions we go to. Heck, she can even find the bathrooms, and tell you what days they sell ice cream after school.

She is already set to fit into the flow of school. She goes to Sunday school, often two services because of my teaching schedule, and both classes are geared at her age level. She follows directions, she sits when it's time to sit, listens when it's time to listen, plays when its time to play, works when it's time for crafts.

We have our moms group, and she is not only there early with me to set up, she soaks in the lesson time and stays after with me to clean up and she's smiling and happy the whole time.

This kid was made to thrive in a school environment. But...

She's probably my last baby, and quite honestly I just want her home with me. She will be in public school 13 out of her 18 years of childhood, then college, maybe even grad school (yes, I dream big for my kids). She only gets to be home with her mom for a few short years before our routines and schedules change. Soon she'll want to spend the night at friends houses, and be away from me more. And, from her older sister I already know that time is amazing too, but this short wisp of a moment, where our home and family are her world are short lived at best. So why should I be in a hurry to send her off?

We had this speaker at Moms about Kindergarten readiness, and she had some really interesting things to say. What stuck out in my mind the most was:

You can't speed up neurological development of their brain, it will be ready to handle school when it is ready, no sooner.

By October you can no longer tell who went to preschool and who didn't, because by then most if not all the kids "get" how to be at school and behave.

Reading early isn't as important as developmental milestones. She used an example, that if you have four 3rd graders standing in front of you, all reading, you couldn't tell who read when they were 2, 4 or 6.

Just because a child can read words doesn't mean they can comprehend them. Kindergarten and 1st grade are so focused on learning to read, so that kids can get to the point where they read to learn. Not JUST to do it, but so that they can do it for a purpose.

Now, before you decide that I am being a judgy-Mc Judgerton, I am not saying preschool is bad, by any means. Or that you don't love your kids as much as I do if you send your kid to school, I am just stating the reasons why WE chose to skip it.

Oh, and did I mention I am not going to do a preschool curriculum with her at home either? We read stories, we play games with shapes, and colors. She glues and cuts and colors all the live long day. In fact, having an older sister who does homework and reads has done more for her learning new skills and wanting to learn new skills than any workbook I could buy could do. So I guess, technically you could say we're using the "Imitate and try to copy what your older sister does for school" curriculum.