Saturday, November 24, 2007

Abundant Blessings

If you have ever attended a traditional church or if you are in the least bit religious, then the words to the Doxology will probably be familiar. It starts out, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow." It is a song whose history I'm unfamiliar with and not real motivated to investigate, but one I've heard sung more times than I can count, especially growing up going to church. This year, though, as we geared up for winter by digging out the snow clothes, trying on snow pants, jackets, gloves and boots to see who needed what, that song was going through my head.

As a mother of many, managing clothes is a logistical nightmare, especially because my children not only grow quickly, but they are much larger than other children their ages. It is an on-going struggle to make sure everyone has pants or skirts that are long enough, shoes that fit, and a coat that doesn't leave some part of them exposed. More often than not, getting ready for church on Sunday mornings finds at least one person who has something that doesn't fit! Needless to say, trying to take advantage of off-season sales is a bit difficult, because I'm not really sure just what size a kid will be by the time the season for such clothes rolls around.

That is why I was so blessed and had the words of the Doxology running through my mind. Winter clothes I purchased last spring actually fit! Jackets I'd forgotten about fit kids that didn't have jackets. Boots fit kids that needed boots. Our son had already grown into his 3T snowsuit (but it does, by God's grace, have growing room) and one of my daughters is wearing a pair of snowboots I outgrew two years ago!

So, I do praise God, from whom all blessings flow! Not only for the snow clothes that keep my children warm as they play in our white (or almost white) winter wonderland, but all His abundant blessings. At the time of this writing, we've been given two different turkeys (one of which we ate for Thanksgiving), nine grocery bags full of food, including basic staples and supplies for making goodies! It is amazing and I'm in humble awe of God. From Him blessings do flow, and from Him comes all I need for health and godliness.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him all creatures here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen!

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

No More Almond Rocca

Having been a mother for more than 12 years, and as the mother of five very energetic girls, you'd think I'd have figured this out by now. Alas, I'm only just beginning, and even so have MUCH to learn. Especially when it comes to caring for my son. This 13 month old bundle of energy has an innate ability to get into things no matter what I do to protect either him or what it is I don't want him in. Case in point; the litter box.

Bootsie has been part of our family for more than nine years. She has survived more trauma than a normal cat should have to endure, and she has done it with grace. We love Bootsie. But, as she gets older, certain parts of her life are becoming worth protecting a little bit more. So, I found a great little box that (in theory) is suppose to be great for cats AND keep little tikes out. Like I said, that is a theory. In reality, it doesn't work!

This morning, as we were taking care of breakfast (leftover pancakes instead of our staple oatmeal) Caleb walked into the kitchen with a knife and a spoon. The knife was immediately deposited in the garbage by my 10 year old daughter. Noticing the swift movement, I inquired as to the reason; little did I know how much I didn't want to find out. "The knife was covered with cat poop so I threw it away," came the animated reply. A quick check of the spoon proved that it, too, had been used for foraging into the previously-assumed-to-be-childproof litter box as well. The evidence was not only on the spoon, but also on clothing and hands. Though it appeared Caleb was chewing something, thorough investigation proved fruitless. Visiting the laundry room, where Bootsie's litter box is, was not so fruitless.

Caleb had, somehow, managed to propel his small body on top of the litter box, after procuring a spoon and knife (from our picnic supplies) and balanced precariously on his belly (with his feet OFF THE FLOOR) while reaching his hands, the knife and the spoon into the deposits left by our cat. YUCK!!!!!!!!! After checking with a doctor friend about the health hazards of consuming cat poop, and having to chuckle with her at the antics of my young son, I was able to clean up the mess and block, for the time being, any pediatric access to the litter box. My friend's parting piece of advice; never give Caleb almond rocca!