Peter’s Reply

I’m reading through the Bible in a year this year.

I try to do this every few years so that in my regular devotions I don’t lose sight of the whole story, the big picture, if you will. I’m using Robert D M’Cheyne’s bible reading plan, which is great because not only will I read through the entire bible in a year, but will get to read the New Testament and the Psalms twice.

In my daily reading, I came across this portion of Scripture that stayed in my heart and was the cause for meditation for several days, even the whole week.

 

Matthew 16:16, “Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

I echo Peter’s word in my own heart as I bow before my Lord and submit my will to his. You are the Christ. You are the Redeemer. You are the Savior. You are the Son of the living God. And you have saved me.

Little old me.

Imperfect. Sinful. Willful. Disobedient me.

The Christ came to earth, my Christ came to earth… Yes, the very Son of God humbled himself, took on flesh, and bore the sins of the world through his suffering and death on the cross.

No wonder these words have stayed with me. What a wonderful and incredible miracle, that the Savior came to this world to save sinners.

A Fresh Start

Oh friends, what a whirlwind these last few months have been. A good whirlwind, with fun and adventure, but a challenging whirlwind all the same.

We left everything we knew, from the Army greens, to our church family, to our beautiful home in the South. And moved West… to the mountains, to a new job… to a new beginning.

I’ve always loved a fresh start. I’ve loved jumping into the newness like putting on a new coat. I love embracing its feel and shape, getting used to its length and the fabric. The trimness. The smoothness. The great beauty and joy of something fresh. Yes, I love it. I love a fresh start. The possibilities… the adventures… the people… I love it.

But oh, oh I hate it too. I hate taking off the old and setting it aside. I hate saying goodbye and leaving. I hate the emotional pull to live in the past, instead of the present… to wonder and worry what is going on in the life behind me. I find I want to hold on to my safe and comfortable home, with all its familiar creaks and drips and groans; its strong friendship and warm conversation instead of plunging into this world of coldness and unfamiliarity.

And since early December, this has been my challenge.

This has been my beautiful mess.

This place we now call home is bright and lovely. The mountains beckon us, with their snowcapped beauty and unexplored wilderness. This busy little town, with new shops and new streets, it calls to me, it whispers my name. I’m filled with longing to explore, to taste and see. The new faces, the new perspectives, the new personalities… they are exciting too. I find myself wanting to jump in, converse, and soak.

But I also want to shrink and hide. At times, I’m overtaken with the newness. And instead of being wonderful, its scary. Its lonely. The mountains, the cowboy boots, and the frigid temperatures…it is different. And it is not home. I struggle to be the new person. The awkward person. The sore thumb. The one who desperately wants to be a part, but struggles to put herself out there, to be vulnerable, to let her own awkwardness show.

Its humbling. And hard.

The kids feel it too. “Mom, they ask, will we make new friends?”  “Will there be any kids there?” “Will I have anyone to invite to my birthday party?”

And so together, we dive in. Heartstrings suitably pulled, we press on, as a family with a united front. Not just for ourselves, but this time for the children also.

We join a weekly Classical Conversations group and a Wednesday evening children’s group. We enroll in Upward Basketball. We get library cards and meet the story time ladies. We go to church, Sunday School and evening prayer meetings. We bring Christmas cookies to our neighbors. We walk to the park and chat with locals. We bring dinner to Mr. Milton. We stop and talk with people at the grocery store and at Starbucks. We host meals and play dates. We push. We pull. We work.

And slowly we’re getting there.

But even still I must remember--in my quest to belong and feel part of this new place-- that this world is not my home. I am a stranger. A pilgrim. A sojourner.

And while I may long for that comfortable coziness of home… I must remember that this side of glory nothing will ever fill that need. I’ll never be home. And the reality must yet again hit me: our old home? It wasn’t home either. The home before that. Nope, not it.

Never. Never on this earth have I been home. And never will my need and desire be filled. 

But even still, I need to keep pushing, and plunging, and pressing. I need to keep serving, keep stretching, keep meeting, keep putting myself out there. But not for me. No. Not for my kids either.

But for Him.

To be His instrument. To be His messenger. To be His servant. To bring the hope of Christ, the joy of salvation, the beauty and newness of life that comes from walking in and with God alone.

That’s my purpose. And that’s the beauty of this fresh start—its a chance to share that joy and bring that hope to others.

Vacation without the Kids

I know its late to write about, but back in June I had the incredible opportunity and privilege to go on vacation by myself.

And it was so much fun, and so relaxing, and so refreshing, I have to blog about it so I can look back and remember what a true luxury it was.

It all started when a friend mentioned The Gospel Coalition Conference in Orlando, FL coming up in June. Her hubby is deployed and she thought she might leave her kids with her inlaws and go soak in the good news of the gospel at the retreat. The idea sounded so good, I mentioned it to Nick, and he unhesitatingly agreed that I should go.

In fact, he insisted. Despite the $$ cost of the conference, lodging, food, and travel. He wanted me to have the chance to get a away on my own, without the kids, and to renew my faith and outlook on life, and to sit under pure and beautiful preaching of God’s word that I so often miss while keeping kids still in church etc. etc.

And so that settled it. No way was I going to argue. I’d just been handed a 5 day vacation to Orlando, FL with a good friend (we actually invited many more friends to join us, though it ended up just being the two of us). Take it! My hubby arranged to take 5 days off work to stay home with the boys, which was no easy task (both in getting the vacation time, and in surviving three little bundles of energy for 5 days) and sent me on my way.

We drove down to Florida on a Thursday. It was a 9 hour drive, but the time in the car flew by. My friend, Becky, and I talked the entire way. Catching up, sharing life experiences, mulling over deep questions, and meditating on the Lord. And literally the time flew by. We couldn’t believe how fast the trip went. Or how easy it was to make stops. All we had to do was see a Starbucks, run in, get our lattes, hit the bathroom and jump back in the car. None of the unbuckling, rebuckling, “hold my hand,” walk across the parking lot, “no, don’t jump on the chairs,” “please stand still in line,” “oh I wish this Starbucks had a drive thru, and “oh no, this bathroom only has one stall.” Nope. Just in out and in 5 minutes. So easy, I almost felt guilty.

The Women’s Gospel Coalition Conference started on Friday afternoon, so we checked into our Double Tree Resort, and lounged at the pool both Thursday evening and Friday morning. I don’t know that I have ever (???) sat poolside and just relaxed like this. Perhaps I did a few times before kids were born, but just sitting and swimming and reading at the pool, without worrying about anyone of my kids drowning was such a luxury.

After a leisurely morning and an incredible breakfast at the hotels restaurant, we headed off to the conference. And had our hearts willed with gospel message after gospel message. It was incredible. It had been a long time since I’d heard so much uninterrupted solid preaching and teaching. Literally, we attended 18 one hour long sessions filled with the gospel, gospel, gospel in the course of 2 and half days. It was truly incredible. We heard from John Piper, D.A. Carson, Elyse Fitzpatrick, Nancy Leigh DeMoss, Tim & Kathy Keller, Noel Piper, Paige Brown, Jenny Salt, and many other influential authors, teachers, and preachers.

I think what I was most amazed with, was how solid everything we heard was. For a women’s conference, I had expected there to be more fluff. More touchy feely kind of feministic type stuff to have worked its way into a conference for women. I mean, wouldn’t you? I also kind of expected it to be more light, instead of true solid exposition and profound teaching. And isn’t that the stereotype anyway? That women want to hear about women’s issues (marriage, parenting, homemaking etc) instead of the gospel message and expository preaching? I fell prey to the stereotype and was OVERWHELMED with how good, uplifting, refreshing, and amazing the pure gospel message is. And oh boy, I needed to hear it. I needed to be there, to soak it in, to drink it up, to renew my faith and purpose and reason for living.

No, I do not live for my kids, for homeschooling, for cooking culinary masterpieces, or gardening the best garden, I live for Christ because he died for me. And the gospel needs to be at the center of all and everything that I do. ALL and EVERYTHING.

One of the simplest and best take home messages I received was from Don Carson, the president of the Gospel Coalition. It was just a small part of a large exposition, but it hit home. He said, “People may not remember anything you said, they may not hear your preaching or your sermons etc, but they do remember what you are passionate about—so what are you passionate about? What do you care about most? Is it the gospel? Does it exude from you? Does it influence every statement, comment, Facebook post, and interaction you have with others? Are you known for the gospel? Or are you known for your big house? Your gourmet cooking? Your stories about your kids? Your political views? Your business savvy? Or are you known as one who is passionate about the gospel?”

Oh man, it was a beautiful convicting thought provoking message that I hope I’ll always carry with me. I thought about my day to day interactions, how I talk and speak with my kids, friends, husband and family, and how they are so rarely filled with the gospel. Do my children know me as one who loves the gospel? Or do they think I’m most passionate about them sitting still in church or putting their shoes on the right feet? What comes out of my lips more? What do I teach and discuss and tell them about all day? Is it how to be obedient (law) or is it that Jesus saves sinners (grace)? Of course they need the law, they need to learn to obey, but they need the gospel more. They need to know that Jesus died for sinners like them, for children who can’t obey. That there is hope and redemption in Christ for lost and foolish people like us.

I could go on and on. It was such a good conference and time away.

I sure missed my hubby and kids though. It was so sweet to come home, refreshed and renewed and to be greeted at the door by my four favorite men. Praise God!

After we ate dinner together and relaxed a bit, I poured out my heart and experiences and learning to Nick. I told him I didn’t realize how tired and apathetic I had become, how lazy and disheartened I was, or how much I needed The Word of God to dwell in me richly. And by contrast, how uplifted and encouraged and zealous I was again for the Lord and for His work after hearing God’s word preached so faithfully.

Nick was so delighted by the new light in my eyes and the encouragement I received, he told me he thought I should get away every year for something like this. And what am I, crazy? I didn’t argue!!! I just gave him a big huge kiss. I don’t know about every year, but just that he wanted to give me this opportunity again was an incredible thought. Especially because my next getaway will involve him watching 4 little boys on his own.

Brave and wonderful man of mine.

 

* you can listen to all the lectures from the conference online at The Gospel Coalition

30 weeks!

So here we are! Thirty weeks into the pregnancy! Woot woot!

This pregnancy has been really hard on my body and given me more weird symptoms and discomforts than I’ve ever had before. Nausea. Digestion issues. Spider veins. Varicose veins. Mood swings. Splitting fingernails. Insomnia. Curly curly hair. Unwanted weight gain. Extreme exhaustion. Hormone headaches. Irritability.

But this pregnancy has also been such a blessing and encouragement and sanctifying event for me. As always, I hope that I’m growing in grace and truth and strength every day, but as often seems the case during pregnancy or other challenging times of the month (eh hem), I put my spiritual walk on hold and say, “I’ll strive be more like Christ when I’m feeling better… or when I lose the extra weight, or when the children are out of the house, or when I’m not so busy and exhausted, or when my husband has made our fortune and we don’t have to work hard for every dollar. Then… then that’s when I’ll really grow in grace, that’s when I’ll put the effort in, but now, during this hard bit of hormones and physical discomfort, let me just give in to the moodiness, the cravings, the irritability, and the desire to NOT. DO. ANYTHING.”

And truth be told, I think many of my pregnancy’s (and monthly cycles!) have been that way. I’ve used them as an excuse to be lazy in both my spiritual and physical health, and to backslide just a weeeeeee bit.

So I’m thankful, truly truly thankful for the work that God is doing in me. He hasn’t given me an easy road of effortless pregnancy, or perfect children who sit angelically still and fold the laundry. He hasn’t given me buckets of money, or a husband that doesn’t have to work hard. He hasn’t given me extra hours in my day so that I can “easily” fit in my personal devotions. Instead, he’s given me this.

He’s given me challenges and heartaches and physical discomfort. He’s given me sinful children. He’s given me uncertainty. He’s given Nick 80 hours of work each week. He’s given me intense Southern summer heat. He’s given me friends who’ve failed and disappointed. He’s given me stress, burdens, and tears.

But He’s also given me joy.

True, deep, beautiful unspeakable joy in my life and circumstances. Its not a perfect life. Nor are my dealing and contentment in it. But still. I’m learning. I’m growing. And I’ve seen the Lord do a miraculous work in me, saving me and conforming me to His image—in circumstances that make taking a step back soooo much easier than a step forward.

He has forced deeper self examination than I ever wanted or thought I needed, and has helped me come to grips with many hidden sins of my heart. He has poured out grace and mercy and forgiven me when I’ve failed time and time again. He’s given me a husband who’s been incredibly patient, and children who forgive and forget perhaps a bit too quickly. He’s given me sweet baby kicks in utero to mingle with the stretch marks and weight gain. He has given me his sufficient grace.

And truly his grace is sufficient. It is all we need to resist, to stand firm on His word, to run the race. And so, I’m running. Running hard… but running on His strength that is made perfect in my weakness.

 

 

*a few thoughts on 30 weeks. I’m still gaining more weight that I would like, but because I’m also exercising 4 or 5 days a week, I think I’m staying toned and maybe I don’t look as heavy as the scale indicates?? Not sure, but I’m hopeful. wink wink. I’m measuring 2 weeks bigger (by fundal height) than I am by LMP, so this baby is looking to be another big guy just like his brothers. He is moving and kicking up a storm, making my stomach lurch and causing people to laugh. The boys love feeling him kick. Joshua kisses my tummy before bed each night. We still haven’t decided on a name, but received the advice that we should always name our children something that ends with a vowel, so that the name will carry when we yell. Haha.

Natural. Born. Leader.

Oh I love my three sons.

And I love my Isaiah. My first born, my first son, my first little treasure of a child.

Isaiah is my natural born leader. Truly, a Natural. Born. Leader.

And I love him for it.

I love that he always knows what to do. Isaiah never hesitates. He has an inborn instinct for what to do at any given time.

He loves competition and his competition-loving mom, loves that about him. I love how he challenges himself, works towards a goal, and doesn’t give up.

I love how smart he is. Boy, this boy of mine can memorize anything. And absorb anything. He picks up on the smallest of hints, thinks the deepest thoughts and says the most profound things for a 5 year old.

I also love that he is confident in Christ. Confident that Jesus died for his sins. Confident that the Holy Spirit has changed his heart. And confident that he’ll go to heaven when he dies.

Oh boy, do I love this boy of mine.

Thank you, Lord, for my Isaiah.

Can’t. Kiss. Him. Enough.

As I said. I love each one of my precious little sons.

And while there are many reasons I love my youngest son, I’d be remiss if I didn’t start by mentioning his cheeks.

Oh his sweet, round cute chubby little angelic little cheeks. I can’t. kiss. them. enough.

I love Noah for his little personality. I love how he talks in his own special way, often making attempts at deep manly voices, and changing things up with his high cheery greetings.

I love how he says Hello. It sounds like “Hey, Yo!” and all he needs is a snapping slap kind of greeting to go with it and he’d be down with the homeys. Love that. Love love love that about him.

I love that I’m his world. That he runs to me and shouts, “Mommy!!!” even if we’ve only been separated for a few moments. I love that he loves his Daddy too. And that his parents are his favorite people.

I love how he loves to read his train books. And that there is no possible way for me to be sitting on the floor without him plopping down on my lap with a book in hand.

I love that he’s learning how to pray and that his heart is being trained while it’s tender.

Thank you, Lord, for my baby. For my almost big boy. Thanks for my Noah.

Party Planning?

Have you ever planned a dinner event for 100+ people?

I haven’t. Or at least I hadn’t until this past week. My husband’s unit had their annual Christmas Party and as the Commander’s Wife and the FRG leader, it was left for me to plan.

It was a little daunting at first, especially knowing that the number of attendees could vary incredibly (94 Soldier’s in the unit, half are married, half have children) but if you know me, you know that I love this type of thing… even if it’s very time consuming for a homeschooling mother of three young children.

For the most part it went well, though I did have to buy a Venti Peppermint Mocha to get through the day. Oh well. It could have been worse (wink wink).

The biggest thing was that I had a strict budget to follow-- but the Lord provided again and again. We were able to line up a beautiful community center on base that allowed us to host our event for free. FREE. A perfect location, at the perfect price. Nice.

I had a number of gals (spouses to our dear Soldier’s) volunteer to help organize the games, food, and decorations. We met together, planned out the details, and delegated tasks. I was in charge of food/drinks (and of course responsible for all the detail work: logistics, advertising, coordinating, supplies, music, welcoming etc.). And the other two gals did games/entertainment and decorations.

I cooked up a storm and supplied the main course for the dinner—several delicious, crowd pleasing pasta dishes for the masses. The food was perfect for the occasion as it is the one thing that easily feeds large numbers and is appealing to most everyone.The Soldiers and their families brought appetizers and desserts so we had quite the spread.

I had carefully calculated the quantity of food penne, rigatoni and spaghetti, but in the end, we ran out of the main course. (Many single soldiers who hadn’t had a home cooked meal in years loaded their plates high before everyone had the chance to make it through the line—haha, can’t say I blame them). But truth be told, I was actually glad that all the pasta was consumed. We didn’t eat half the desserts and ended up having to take tons of sweets home. Another huge trial for me to bear (wink wink).

The night before the party, my decorator (who was also donating all the decorations) called  and said she couldn’t make it. Groan. I wish people could be more reliable. But somehow the Lord gave me peace of mind and instead of panicking, I rummaged through my closets and found everything I had left that was even remotely Christmassy and loaded it into a bags. Strings of lights, pieces of tinsel, and rolls and rolls of wrapping paper.

Some unexpected volunteers (and some wonderful soldiers tasked by my husband) showed up early and helped me work some magic. Instead of table clothes, we covered the tables with wrapping paper. Instead of poinsettia’s as center pieces, we laid out pinecones, red cranberries, and gold ribbon. We strung lights across the buffet table and hung tinsel on the walls. It wasn’t ideal, but in the end it looked beautiful. I wish I’d had time to take pictures!

The games didn’t go as I’d hoped either, as the gal who was in charge of games fizzled out. I’m still not sure what happened. She was there early to help and did a great job setting out the food, she totally skipped bringing/preparing for any of the games, (which was to be the main entertainment for the adults and kids). Whew!! So again I went scrambling. I figured out some quick games for the kids (making snowflakes with construction paper and scissors, tossing discs into a bin etc.). A gal at the party jumped in and made up her own Christmas Pictionary game for the adults, and the Soldier’s brought down a white board and dry erase markers from the unit to use for the game. It was a big hit.

Even with the glitches, overall, the party really went well. It was neat to see the Lord smooth out the rough spots. The big coffee pots were delivered late, but still the coffee was hot and ready when the time came. People put trash in Santa’s gift bag thinking it was a trash bag, but none of the toys were ruined (it was actually really funny). It took us an 2 hours to clean up after the party (even with a bunch of Soldier’s there to help), but we got all of our deposit back in the end.

We had a huge crowd and there was lots of laughter, the kids enjoyed Santa, and many people were able to meet and connect for the first time.

I think I’d do it again. It’s really so much like planning a small party, just with twice as many people and details to line up. The biggest thing I learned was to have reliable help. Haha. The second most important thing? Having a back up plan.

Faithfulness

It’s been an unusual week.

With some unexpected challenges and trials.

Problems we didn’t plan on encountering.

Heartaches we didn’t expect to feel.

But can I just still say that my husband is the most amazing man ever?

And that our great God is still my God?

Though the challenges have been there, He is still faithful and so are His promises.

“And we know that all things work together for good, to those who love the Lord, to those who are called according to his purpose.”

A doozy of a day

Yep it’s been a doozy

It’s my birthday today. I’ve been blessed with twenty nine years of wonderful life. And it’s been a great and wonderful and beautiful day.

Only it didn’t start that way. In fact, it started quite the opposite. Let me go back to this early (early early) this morning.

It’s 5am and I’m awakened by a piercing yell of my dear little Noah. At first I roll over and try to ignore. Wrapped up in a happy dream of beaches and waves on the shore. Maybe Nick will get up with him, I think. But then I realize that Nick’s not home. And not going to be home again for quite awhile. I feel sadness as the realization of his absence hits me. And even sadder as the yelling doesn’t stop for the room next door. And sadder still when I remember today is supposed to be a special day. It’s my birthday.

I stumble out of bed to check on Noah, soothe him back to sleep, and tip toe out of his room, just hoping that I’ll be able to catch a few more minutes of shut eye before my alarm goes off at 6.

But I can’t sleep. I want to, but I’m stuck in the tossing turning almost awake, but almost asleep state of unrestful rest. My one year old keeps squawking now and then too, so each time I drift off, I’m awoken again. Finally I just get up.

As Noah smacks away on his morning bottle, I pull out my bible and try to get a few moments of quiet devotion in before the other boys wake up. But I’m cranky now too. And struggling to be grateful and focused in my prayer and reading time. And before I really get anywhere with my reading, I hear the other two boys wake up and not two pleasant words were exchanged between them before the fighting began.

Sigh oh sigh sigh sigh.

It’s my birthday. Can’t we all just get along? And be happy all day?

Josh woke up on the wrong side of bed. He realized a toy wasn’t in his bed, and worse, he found it in Isaiah’s hands. Whining and fighting, followed by more fighting and whining. Josh cannot get it together. Every word from his mouth is filled with rebellion and contrariness. My sweet and tenderhearted boy struck with a case of Mr Grumpy’s. And the hardest part? Disciplining consistently and training kids to obey regardless of how they feel, to follow God’s commands whether we feel like it or not. Whether we miss daddy or not. Whether we got enough sleep or not. Whether we have the prized toy or not.

So while I’m dishing out discipline right and left, Noah is playing with my cell phone and calls far and distant friends in far and distant time zones, and I begin receiving worried phone calls from elderly friends and formers pastors, “I got 3 calls from your number early this morning, is every thing okay?? We’ve been worried”

Meanwhile, Isaiah dumps out several board games and all their pieces in his bed, and then while trying to recover a lost cherry from Hi-Ho-Cheerio, he rips a page of his favorite book and dissolved into traumatized tears.

And what do I do? Oh competent accomplished sophisticated mother that I am?

I just sit down on the floor and laugh. I laughed and laughed and laughed. The boys said, “Mom!?!?!? What are you laughing for?” and between guffaws and giggles, I say, “It’s either laughing or crying, Guys!!”

And it was. Cause oh boy, I could have cried up a storm. It’s my birthday and my husband just left. It’s my birthday and there’s no birthday greetings whispered in my ear first thing this morning. There are no birthday kisses left on my lips. And it’s Labor day, and there’s no special packages or cards or boxes waiting to be delivered by a mailman on a National holiday. No mail at all. No Fed Ex or UPS either. It’s my birthday, and my kids aren’t old enough to bake me a cake, or buy and wrap gifts. It’s my birthday. My 29th birthday.  My last birthday in my 20’s. Oh boy, it really really was LAUGH. Or CRY.

But I was able to laugh. God gave me the grace, the joy, the love, the patience… to laugh. To laugh at my boys. And life. And my situation. Oh and a merry heart makes good like medicine.

It was just what I needed too, because as we headed to the breakfast table, the meltdowns continued. Josh had to be excused from the table 3 times because he couldn’t keep it together (literally crying over spilled milk). I found myself waiting and wishing for Nick to call, knowing that he would try so hard to call on my birthday. Only to go grab my phone and realize that he had called. Twice.

AND MY SILLY PHONE WAS ON VIBRATE so I didn’t hear it and didn’t get it and totally missed my one opportunity to talk with my hubby.

Sigh. Major big-time. I shed a few tears over this one, I admit. Nuts!!

We finish breakfast and devotions and I load the dishes into the dishwasher, with my trusty Noah helper (and dishwasher unloader) by my side. And then I hear it. Gail's of glee from the back of the house. I head back to check on my boys, who had literally been left alone for 5 minutes, and find my bedroom door closed. Sigh.

I open the door to see two little naked boys jumping on my bed. “Where are your clothes?,” I ask. “We took them off, and put them in a pile, and then peed on them!!!” is the cheerful response.

And I laugh. I laugh so hard, so long, so purely and blissfully, I almost had to add my clothes to the pile of peed on laundry.

Oh what a morning. Not the birthday morning, I’d anticipated, but as my mom suggested, a very very memorable birthday in birthday history.

The rest of the day went (relatively) smoothly from there, and was filled with phonecalls and texts and emails and Facebook posts that delighted my heart all day. And as I was going down the grocery store aisles this afternoon, I wished out loud that Nick would be able to call again. No sooner had the words left my lips, when my phone rang. And it was Nick. And were able to talk for a few minutes before we hurried off to soccer practice.

Then tonight, a handful of girlfriends came over and cheered my spirits so completely, I can’t even express. We fellowshipped long and freely and enjoyably. And we ate birthday cake like crazy. I was showered with love and gifts and made to feel so special.

And here at the end of the day, I’m truly able to look back on the days events and praise God for every moment of it. And even more so, to remember the past twenty nine years that I’ve enjoyed and to say, God is good. The ups and downs, the joys and trials, the good, the bad, the ugly. God is good.

The Golden Hour

It's 8:17pm.

And the boys are in bed

In fact they've been in bed since 7:22pm, but shhhh don't tell anyone.

The dishes are done.

The house is tidy.

And I hear the sound...





of Silence.




And let me tell you, it's a beautiful thing.

Thank you, Lord, for moments like this one. For peace. For quiet. For calm. For Smirnoff Cranberry Lime. For avacado face masks. For hot showers. For deep cleansing breaths. And for your Word ministering to my soul.

Challenge

Last week, our Bible Study leader challenged the ladies' in our group to outwardly voice our love for our husbands. She urged us to guard our speech and to use our words to build up. Here's what she challenged us to:

1. For the next 30 days, purpose not to say anthing negative about your husband -- not to him, and not to anyone else about him.

2. Everyday for the next 30 days, express at least one thing you admire or appreciate about your husband. Say it to him and to someone else about him.

It has been a great challenge (especially now that my husband is away for an extended period without any way of contacting him--oh Army life, how I love you!!) but also a great encouragement to carry on.

I have a wonderful marriage. I have a husband who loves and supports me; who listens, counsels, and encourages; who cherishes me like Christ does the Church. And I love him back. I love him with my whole heart; he's my best friend, my right arm, my go-to guy, my knight in shining armor.  I am so very happy with him, and really, in every aspect of our relationship. I'm fulfilled and content. Complete. And it's a wonderful wonderful blessing from God alone.

But I know, that while my situation may not be that rare amongst my Christian friends, it is rare in the rest of the world. It's rare to have a happy committed relationship with your spouse. It's rare not to have any ongoing feuds or problem areas. It's rare not to argue and yell at each other. It's rare to have what I have. What we have.

But the truth is, it's easy to take it for granted.

Really? Is it?

But yes, yes it is. You get used to being this happy, this safe, this loved. And just think it's normal. But it's not.

It's not normal in this sinful world. And it's definitely not what sinful old Kathryn deserves.

But I have it. And oh boy, I have it in such a good and marvelous way, it makes me weep to think of taking it for granted. It cuts me down to my very core to think I have not daily thanked God for my spouse and our marriage. And to not have told my husband EVERY SINGLE DAY how much I love him and how wonderful he is.

So there you go. I'm taking on the challenge. And I urge you to pick it up too. Whether your relationship is in an upward spin or a downward spiral, whether it is just beginning, or hasn't yet begun, we all need challenges like this one.

Choose to build up your relationships. Choose kind words instead of negative ones. Choose to guard your tongue among others.  Choose to let your loves ones know how thankful you are.

Choose. Choose. Choose. Pray. Pray. Pray.


With faith in Christ, nothing will be impossible for you.

Hair

My son, Joshua, has the best "right-out-of-bed-in-the-morning" hair.

No mousse, gel, or hairspray needed, just pure and natural bedhead.

Even the hairstyling commercials and magazine covers can't get it to look this good.

Often times, when I see him in the morning, I'm not able to contain my laughter (can you?). And I'll say, "Josh, let's go look in the mirror" so that we can laugh and smile at it together. Afterall, it's good to learn to laugh at yourself. And often times, we end up laughing at my hair too.

Yep, he get's his wild hair genes from someone...

Anyway, this particular morning, I took him to the bathroom mirror and said, "Joshua, look at this wild wonderful hair of yours. It's beautiful! And do you know what? God made it this wild and wonderful way. God knows each one of your hairs, he know's the number of them, he knows the direction that they are pointing this morning. God know's all things."

Josh smiled deeply and fluffed his hair.

Then I said, "And do you know what else, my dear Joshua? God cares for each one of these hairs on your head. And if he cares and knows each one of your wild and crazy strands of hair, how much more, does He know and love you!?!"

 Matthew 10:29-30

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

It was a sweet moment of laughter and meditation together. Not only was it another chance to share God's Word, but also an opportunity to demonstrate that God's word is not just for our evening family devotions, or Sunday at church-- it's something that should permeate every thought, action, and yes, even every reflection in the mirror.

Shades of Green

I love my garden.

Sure it’s not very big, and there are a few stray weeds climbing through the dirt…

And the peas are falling over in the back because the trellis I bought was really not tall enough. My oregano is all in one clump because the rain washed the seeds into a pile and my chives are still not thriving.

But to me, it’s the best garden ever.



Tomatoes


My hubby kindly donated the start-up fees (wood, compost, manure, seeds), and my boys helped me dig it one sunny spring day, but really, I’m the sole gardener. I’ve tended. I’ve cared. I’ve planted.

And I’ve loved.

Peas

I don’t know how it happened, but it happened still. These plants, each one, I love them. I love to smell the mint and basil, to find green beans and peas hiding among the leaves. I love my strawberries even though I haven’t tasted a single one. (Darn old squirrels!!)

Mint

Whenever I work in the garden, I feel peaceful too. And my mind almost always wanders to thoughts of our great God, who I’m sure loves gardens as much as I.

After all, didn’t He make all the lovely herbs and vegetables at the beginning of time? By the word of His power? And didn’t he make each plant ready to yield fruit in its season? Create humidity and rain, fertile soil and sun? Yes, I’m certain that God loves gardens too.

Strawberry

I’m also pretty sure God hates weeds, but loves weeding… just like I do.

Parsely

I always think about uprooting sin in my life when I’m weeding. The analogy is just to strong for me to ignore.

I love getting down on my hands and knees, sorting between plants, and carefully working my hands through the soil to pull up the bad guys while protecting the life of the good guys.

Man. One could go crazy with the life analogy’s (both Biblical and not) hidden in gardening.

Basil

I think it’s another reason why I love my garden and gardening.  I pull weeds and feel like I am vanquishing the enemy. I water the herbs and imagine the Holy Spirit reviving me with refreshing rain.

Oregano

I watch my plants grow… and think of how God nurtures and cares for His people; providing for our every need, saving us, and teaching us to bear good fruit.

Cucumbers

Thank you, Lord, for tending me… and my garden too

Things I love today

Today has been a wonderful productive busy day.

While I feel myself heaving a giant sigh of joy (and relief) now that I am at the end of it, I can’t help but feel amazingly blessed and contented at the blessings of the Lord.

To name a few…

Backyard swings and evidences of brotherly love. Oh boy, do these boys love each other… and the swings. Thank you, Father, for my boys.

 

Next, I would have to mention sunny warm days and cold sweet tea. Such sweet spring days and cool wet refreshment are gifts from God alone.

*As a random side note, I’ve discovered a few delicious sweet tea variations with a little fiddling around. Peach iced tea with a splash of peach juice (tastes like Snapple), raspberry iced tea with a shot of raspberry syrup and/or fresh raspberries, and, of course, peppermint iced tea with peppermint leaves (and/or peppermint schnapps!) So good.

 

Then comes the discounts and the flower beds. A bargain hunter like me would be remiss not to mention how joyful I was to see the 50% off sign on these perfectly good petunias. Perfectly good petunias. Nice. Can’t wait to get these puppies planted in pots around the deck.

And speaking of the deck…

 

I’m so thankful for Navajo Red Paint. Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s the accent color for the exterior of our home. I loved our house the very moment I first saw it… and loved it even more for the red door, red garages, and red shutters bursting with color. So pretty. The backyard deck is red too. And, as of this afternoon, it is all decked out (no pun intended) with a fresh coat of this deep dark paint.

If I’m honest, I’ll also mention that my hands, feet, and legs… as well as my boys extremities were covered with the paint earlier today too. What can I say? A girl can’t paint around here without some help from the boys. Apparently.

 

I also can’t help but say how thankful I am for a God who hears prayer and cares about even my little garden in the back yard. I seeded these amazing green beans (along with peas, cucumbers, peppers, tomatoes and a whole slew of herbs) 2 weeks ago. The weather has been warm for quite some time, and it was the perfect planting day. However… three days after I planted, we had a torrential rain storm. Inches of rain in just a few hours… and I found myself praying fervently that my garden would still grow. And would you believe it? It did. Every single plant that should have germinated by now, has. Wow! God is good.

 

Last, but certainly not least, I’m thankful for freckles. It appears that at least one of my little boys will take after his mother and don these adorable sun-kisses.

I know there were days in my childhood that I despised my freckles, but mostly, I just loved them. I loved how they’d start with a few here and there, and then slowly multiply, adding dimension and variety to my face. I did.  do. I love freckles. And I loved spotting them on Isaiah’s nose this afternoon.

 

Thank you, Lord, for your mercies that are new every morning. Thank you for giving me such joy in the little things. Great is Thy faithfulness.

One Year Old

 

My dear little Noah turned one this weekend.

A whole year old. I know it can be so boring to hear a mom blog on and on about how time flies and how fast they grow.

But can I just say, I don’t know where the time went and can’t believe how fast he grew.

One year old, really??

But yes, here he is, in all his sweetness, chowing down on his first birthday cake.

Despite the challenges and exhaustion that accompanied this first year, I admit without hesitation, that I loved every minute of it.

And oh boy, I really did. I mean really. I just loved it.

I think I must have kissed these sweet little cheeks a million times; each little kiss a burst of joy and gladness between him and I. Truly, being a parent has brought me more pleasure than I ever could have imagined. God is so good.

This little cake covered ball of cuteness just makes my heart sing.

Encouragement

After a morning at the park, in beautiful 60 degree weather, I called the kids and said the least popular phrase a child could ever hear at the park.

"It's time to go!"

My boys, looked up (or down, depending on which end of the jungle gym they were at) and shouted, the most favorite phrase any mom at the park could ever hear,

"Yes, MOOOOM!"

And they jumped off the play equipment and ran to obey.

As any mom does, when her children obey without challenge, without excuse, and without delay, I felt a surge of happiness and joy as we marched to the car hand in hand.

Some of the other moms looked at each other in disbelief. Some frowned. Some smiled. Some mouthed "Wow!!"

And I thought, for a brief moment, of going back to the crowd of moms and saying, "This doesn't happen half as often as it should!!!!!" But I thought better of it. Why mar the moment with excuses? For today. For just a moment. I'll delight in the pleasure of obedience. And I'll let my kids delight in it too.

For, truly, all of us smiled hugely as we walked to the car. I think we were all praising God for a moment like this. I felt so glad for my kids to know the joy of obedience. To walk in the light. And to feel God's face shining upon them. While we know that our good works can never save us, and that it is Christ and Christ alone that brings us into favor with God, there is still such pleasure in serving and obeying Him.

And like my kids, I too know just how how good it feels to obey the Lord. I was so thankful for the bit of personal encouragement it brought-- that all the discipline, the spankings, the tears, the trials...it's worth it. My kids are learning. And so am I.

So, as I said, we reveled in the moment. Cause we all know, it doesn't happen as often as it should.

Ahh!

My husband bought me an amazing new camera for my birthday back in September. (Though I suppose the word "amazing" could describe both my husband and the camera. Thank you, Dearest). In my husband's usual style, he researched, phonecalled, hunted, and bought me the best camera he could find.

I love my new Canon. It takes incredible pictures and I am learning new things I can do with it all the time. Wow. I love it.

So you can imagine my horror when something terrible happened to it yesterday.

The boys and I were playing in the backyard. I set Noah down on the back deck, and Isaiah, on his own accord, came and sat down next to him. Then Joshua followed too. They sat their together playing happily, laughing and giggling away. And then, as most mother photographers will do, I ran for my camera.



Perfect photo op.



I ran inside, ran back out, and snapped a few pictures of ALL the boys smiling AT THE SAME TIME. Excuse the caps lock, but as those of you with 3+ children know (double this if they are 3 busy boys), this is quite the feat!

As the boys got restless, I reviewed the pictures on the camera, set the camera down on the back porch and went to push the boys on the swings. They rode the swings for quite some time, we laughed some more, talked, and sang. Yes, we sing while we're on the swings. And I'll tell you, it will be one of my lifetime favorite memories I'm sure.

Shortly thereafter we went inside for dinner, at which point I realized that I didn't have all the ingredients for the soup I was making for lunch with friends the following day. So as soon as we were done having devotions, I loaded the boys into the car for a quick trip to Wal-Mart.

By the time we made it home, it was not only raining but completely dark out. I got the boys ready for bed, brushed teeth, sang songs and kissed them one more time.

After I finished tidying up the house, I went to grab my camera and upload the picture I'd taken earlier.



Which is when the sudden shock and panic hit me-- my camera was not in the case. Where was it? Ahhh!!!!!! Hence the title of this post!

Oh no, oh no, oh no! I'd left it on the back porch. Surely it's been stolen, I thought. (while we live in a very safe neighborhood, parts of this city are really not so hot). My heart sank as I fumbled with the back door lock, opened the door, looked out and realized that the porch was not only soaked in rain, but my camera was NOT where I left it.

Double AHHHHH! You know that feeling that you get in your stomach when something terrible happens? It was happening big time. My NEW camera!! OH NO!!!

I quickly ran over to the swing set, hoping I'd left it there. Not there.

I scanned the porch again and again. Not there.


If my neighbors could have seen me running around like a mad woman they would have laughed. Or called the police. I'm sure I looked crazy.

I ran back inside and scanned the play room. Not there.

Then the kitchen, living room, dining room... not there.

OH NO!!

I think I was about to start crying when I saw my camera sitting on the mantle over the fire place. Safe and sound.The relief was overwhelming. Whew!! Safe and sound. Not stolen, not rained on, not lost, but safe and sound. Praise the Lord!

It reminded me of the parable of the lost coin in Luke 15:8-10:


⁸"Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? ⁹And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' ¹⁰In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents."


I know the context and the comparison don't quite measure up, but I was blessed to remember it nonetheless.