Marchauna's musings

Understanding and acceptance

2012-02-05T00:40:00.000-08:00

It appears after almost eleven months of struggle, that we have some answers as to why our baby boy has struggled so much with life. He has some sort of brain injury. The specialist called it "static encephalopathy." In laymen's terms; Cerebral Palsy. The reflux may be secondary to the CP and does explain the frequent sinus infections. JJ's fussiness/irritability can most likely be traced back to the CP, as can his thermoregulation issues. Even his sensory issues can be traced back to the CP.

Though no parent wants to be told their child is less than perfect, I am very relieved. JJ's life will never be easy (whose is, though), but God knew that from the beginning of time. Like Bethany Hamilton, I don't need easy; I just need possible. Now that we have answers, finding ways to cope is very possible. And that is something I can accept and celebrate.

God's goodness isn't dependent on circumstances, and in these less-than-perfect circimstances, we choose to celebrate God's goodness, too. What a gift!

Blooms in the desert

2012-01-18T09:21:00.000-08:00

One of the most amazing lessons I have learned, on this journey through dry loneliness, is that I am not alone. That, and the realization that what I have been looking for is right in my own back yard.

My dreams have always included far away places and people in need. Motherhood was not a dream or desire. Even getting married was more about having a partner to change the world with than settling down and raising a family. God has gifted me, burdened me, and called me to full-time Christian service. But the service I thought I wanted didn't require diaper pails, laundry baskets, and nursery rhymes. How wonderful that God knows what we need even when e don't recognize it.

My children are my most precious disciples. Sharing life together, in a community others only dream about, is priceless. Our life isn't perfect (especially when it comes to birthdays; I'm really terrible at birthdays), but we do have fun. And as I embrace God's plan, my desert is becoming a much more beautiful place.

Rain drops in the desert

2012-01-09T01:00:00.000-08:00

Rain doesn't usually fall in a desert. By definition a desert receives less than ten inches of rain a year. Deserts are dry and dusty places, void of life and beauty (at least to the casual observer). But, deserts hold their own unique beauty. And when rains fall, deserts spring to life; flowers bloom, grasses grow, cacti swell to unimaginable sizes. Desert dwellers know how to make the most of rain drops in the desert.

Because deserts are arid places, the natural flora and fauna are prepared for dry times. They must be, or they will die. Some plants sink roots down (sometimes several feet) to tap into deeply buried underground aquifers. Other plants have adapted in more creative and resourceful ways. Peoples native to arid lands know all the tricks for finding water in less-than-obvious places. The desert is, for them, a comfortable and welcoming home.

Christians tend to be surprised by deserts. To store up water in anticipation of days without rain or long periods of dryness does not come naturally. Instead of sinking roots down deep, or learning how to find water in unexpected places, discouragement, even frustration marks our journey. How easy it is to miss out on the blessings and beauty such an experience can provide.

As my sojourn in the desert continues, God is beginning to open my eyes to some of the treasures in this seemingly barren land. Like a plant who has learned to store water in anticipation of long periods without rain, I am learning to embrace my sandy home. It is not what I have chosen (oreven desired), but it is where I have been "planted." Now we'll see if I can bloom.

Journey through the desert

2012-01-06T17:16:00.000-08:00

The last year has been long and difficult. It started with sickness; it ended with sickness. Isolation; journeying alone in the darkness of fatigue, disappointment, and discouragement. Failure, or perceived failure, perseverance, footprints in the sand.

Not every day has been filled with sand and dust. Simple pleasures and small successes; redefining success. Lowering expectations. Again. Seeing God's hand amidst the dunes, finding a quiet oasis of rest and refreshment.

Mothering was never my dream. Africa, medicine, evangelism, saving lives. Those were my aspirations. All sacrificed on the altar of obedience, though not willingly or completely. Taking up my cross daily, by changing diapers, wiping noses, teaching (unsuccessfully, it seems) reading, writing, arithmatic; teaching my children God's laws as we rise up, and when we fall down. Battling to focus on what is truly important instead of what the world values; helping my children do the same.

Finding gifts where they've never been before. Choosing to embrace gifts never expected or desired. Celebrating through tears.

Jesus spent time in the desert. He understands this journey, even if I don't. The lesson I am learning: trust. The gift; leaning on the everlasting arms, rediscovering true success and ultimate joy.

This journey is not over. I've only taken the first step. But if a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, at least I'm on my way.

Caroling with Murphy...

2011-12-17T20:59:00.000-08:00

Christmas caroling is a long-treasured family tradition. Some years we are more successful than others, but we almost always have fun. This year, however, will most definitely go down in the books as one of the craziest ever. After getting a late start (for lots of reasons), we headed off intothe night. It quickly became obvious that this experience was going to be unique. It also became very clear we had brought an uninvited guest; Murphy (of Murphy's Law fame) along with us.

Arrival at our first destination, 20 minutes away on foggy, unfamiliar roads, was reached successfully enough. Arriving with any measure of subtlty, however, was completely unsuccessful. Traveling, by necessity (due to the size of our group), in two cars, horns blarred as our cars almost collided. Then, Christmas cheer was greatly dampened as we backed into the car of our intended "carolee." Thankfully no damage was done, at least to the car. Our pride was a little tattered.

Proceeding to our next stop, the two vehicles became seperated. That wasn't nearly as memorable as getting lost along the way. Remember, we were driving on foggy, unfamiliar streets. To top it off, no one was home when we arrived. At least most of the kids can buckle themselves now!

Our next stop was, by far, the most entertaining. Arriving with little more stealth than our first unwitting victim, I mean recipient, though without the horns or crashing into cars, our presence was detected early.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem well received. Lights were on and people were obviously home, but no one came to the door. We sang anyway. And knocked, and rang the door bell, and sang some more. Our serenade drew the attention of the dog of the house (picture Carl, the rottweiler), who barked menacingly, for a moment. Then he diappeared. And, we caught a glimpse of someone.

We knew they were home. So we sang (the same song, of course) louder, with more enthusiasm, while ringing the door, again.

No joke; it was probably ten minutes before anyone opened the door! I really think they were not interested in being caroled to. Unfortunately for them, we didn't get the hint. In the end, I think they were blessed.

Things ended on a positive note. The final house we caroled to enjoyed our visit very much. And no one cried until the very end.

Christ-free Christmas

2011-12-15T23:29:00.000-08:00

What is the reason for Christmas? Why do we celebrate this winter holiday, with such a hodge podge of traditions, anyway? Retailers love it because somehow gift giving became part of the celebration, along with decorating and having parties, so people spend LOTS of money this time of year. It is a great excuse to get together with family and friends, eat yummy food, and take a break. But what is the point? Why?

Have you attended a public school Christmas program recently? Awash with political correctness, the program I attended earlier this week tried to address the questions posed here. The answers, sadly, were empty; Christmas is about food, gifts, decorations, spending time with family and friends, and love. But why? The darling elementary-aged children didn't really have an answer.

Why do you celebrate Christmas? Is it something you grew up with, a tradition you are passing on to your children? Is it because everyone else does it and you don't want to be a Scrouge? Why do you celebrate Christmas? Do you even really enjoy Christmas?

Consider; why do you celebrate this particular holiday? If it has nothing to do with the historical reasons (you know, a baby in a manger, shepherds, stars, wise men and angels, that sort of thing), why not? Do you know about the historical background for Christmas? Do you want to know?

Just some thoughts...

Babies DON'T keep!!

2011-12-15T00:07:00.000-08:00

Many mamas are familiar with the poem, "Song for a Fifth Child" by Ruth Hubert Hamilton, but I've pasted it in below because I needed the reminder. Babies can not and do not wait. Days may be long, with diapers to change, laundry to wash (and dry, fold, And put away), meals to cook (and clean up), and much, much more. But the years are very, VERY short. One day you are holding a tiny baby. The next, you are staring in the face of an adult! What is the more important investment; your house or the future adult in your arms?!

Social pressures weigh heavy. We think everyone else keeps an immaculate home, and if we are good mamas, we will, too. Medical wisdom pushes us to parent for convenience, with the goal to as quickly as possible have our babies sleep through the night, on their own.

After 16 years of parenting, and lots of baby rocking (with eight kids, I've had plenty of opportunity), I know that dust and dishes will definitely keep; mine have! Babies don't. Even if you rock them all the time (like I have with my youngest, due to severe reflux and sensory issues), babies don't stay babies. It is hard, because the tasks are so obvious and absolutely necessary, but Ruth Hubert Hamilton was right, babies do not keep. Here is the poem, in its entirety. Enjoy...

"Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

Hang out the washing and butter the bread,

Sew on a button and make up the bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,

(Lullaby, Rockaby, lullaby, loo.)

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,

(Pat-a-Cake, darling and peek, peekaboo).

And out in the yard there is hullabaloo.

But I'm playing kanga and this is my Roo.

Look aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?

(Lullaby, Rockaby, lullaby loo)

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep,

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

Abdication and embracing

2011-10-17T09:16:00.001-07:00

I am a homeschooling mother by calling and not by gifting. It is a calling I'm not always excited to embrace. Honestly, homeschooling is HARD! There is a reason education used to be reserved for the social elite, who hired tutors along with nannies, housekeepers, and cooks. But, I digress.

It is Monday, a day usually spent at our homeschool co-op and filled with activity. And though I'm rarely ready for Mondays, Mondays are always ready for me. On this particular Monday, though, I have sick little ones, so I'm not at the co-op, having sent my older, healthy children alone. Which brings me to the reason for my post this morning.

If I sent my children to a government school, I could enjoy this kind of time every morning, five days a week. Six of my eight children would be gone, for hours, and the two who would be home would be napping at least a part of the time their older siblings were gone. Such quietness is tantalizing, even tempting. How much I could accomplish. How free I would be to pursue more enjoyable endeavors.

Then, before I've even had a moment to contemplate the temptation or the enjoyment it might bring, this realization pops into my mind; to send my children away would be to abdicate the responsibility God has given to me to disciple and train them. I could leave them to be raised by others, while I was home, in the quiet of a relatively empty house, but at what cost?

As difficult as it is to be wife, mother, housekeeper, cook, and educator, it is my calling. To do less will cheat me of the joy that comes from sharing life with my children, as crazy and difficult (even overwhelming) as that might be.

So, instead of abdicating my responsibility to train and educate my children, I will embrace God's call to a high and noble profession. And, many years from now when my house is empty and quiet and clean, I will look back fondly on these days, thankful for the privilege to leave my mark on the next generation.

Stock Up Stumbles

2011-06-23T12:59:00.000-07:00

Extreme couponing has become quite popular, and with good reason. You can save some serious money. I, however, am not into extreme couponing. It's not because of a personal aversion to coupons or saving money. I LOVE saving money. Instead, it is an issue of logistics; I don't have the brain power to manage coupons at this stage of my life, even if someone else is telling me what to do.

That, and I really hate to shop, so I like to make it as streamlined and simple as possible. Which means I buy basically the same food every month. Knowing about how much we eat, I stock up at a local restaurant supply store, where I can buy bulk veggies for less than $1/lb.

Lately, though, I guess we haven't been eating as many frozen veggies as I thought. Today, when I went to grab something out of the freezer, I had to dig through several layers of frozen veggies before I found it. And, underneath the item I was looking for was... you guessed it, more frozen veggies! I have veggies for soup, veggies for stir fry, veggies for side dishes, veggies for whatever. I have LOTS of frozen veggies!

So, I'm going to adjust my shopping plan for a little while, at least. I'm NOT going to buy any more veggies. The restaurant supply store I shop at also carries yummy frozen desserts. Maybe I'll have to buy some of those instead. They probably won't stock up like the veggies have, and even if they do, I have the feeling no one here will mind at all.

If you happen to drop by for a meal in the near future, don't be surprised if we have frozen veggies for more than one course. At least you know what to expect for dessert, if I remember to pull it out in time (see my post on the problem with dinner in the freezer from March 2009 for more information ).

Maybe I should try the extreme couponing, as long as I don't try any deals on frozen veggies.

He's Not Me, Thank God

2011-06-18T09:39:00.001-07:00

I've been reading through the Old Testament as part of my daughter's high school curriculum. Because of the craziness of my life and the challenges of having seven children plus a baby plagued by reflux, I've gotten quite behind. Whereas my daughter is almost through the minor prophets, I have barely reached the period of the kings of Israel.

My reading has taken me to the reign of Saul, the first king of Israel, a man generally despised and noted for his less than kingly qualities. As I was reading this morning, two passages stuck out to me. The first is 1 Kings 15:22, which says (in the English Standard Version) "Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams..." That passage is a familiar one to many who have grown up in church. If your childhood was anything like mine, then you heard the following passage as well. It says, "For rebellion is as the sin of divination" or witchcraft, in some translations. Either way, the message is clear; rebellion is bad news.

Samuel is confronting Saul for his rebellion against the Lord, and he is mincing no words. Saul is in trouble, and he realizes it too late. His response, however genuine and contrite it may not be (he does, after all, blame his subjects for his rebellion, vs 24), echoes the cry of my heart when I'm confronted with rebelling against the Lord's direction, "I have sinned, for I have transgressed the commandment of the LORD... Now therefore, please pardon my sin...that I may worship the LORD." Samuel's response is one to make a grown man shudder,"I will not return with you...the LORD has rejected you..."

Now, Saul was rejected from being king, which is far different from being completely rejected. But still, I'd NEVER want to hear those words, from anyone, about anything. Obviously, Saul was less than thrilled. For him, however, it was too late. For the rest of us, today, thankfully, it is not.

Centuries after the above described discussion, Paul (formerly known as Saul) the Apostle, wrote a letter to the Church in Rome, in which he described the challenges of living according to God's standard and how truly difficult it is. He ended one section with the cry, "Wretched man that I am, who will save me from this body of death?!?" Romans 7:24, ESV. But, he begins the next chapter with the thrilling words, "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ."

In so many ways, I'm not better than King Saul, choosing to do what I want to do instead of what God commands (usually in the form of loving myself and not loving my neighbor), or to not do what I should do (which is to love my God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love my neighbor as myself), but instead of rejecting me as He did Saul, God wraps His arms around me and says, "I don't condemn you." What a wonderful gift to be me instead of King Saul, who was rejected by God.

That makes me think of a passage in Isaiah, where it describes what happened to make it possible for me to experience God's grace instead of the wrath I deserve. It says, "He was despised and rejected, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." Isaiah 53:3 ESV.

King Saul, who was rejected by God for his rebellion, is not me, thank God!

The Difference Between Boys and Girls

2011-06-16T00:23:00.001-07:00

I have a four year old boy. Yes, they are an entity unto themselves; if you've had one, you know what I mean.

Earlier today I was in my son's bedroom (one that he must share, since we have twice as many kids as bedrooms), helping him clean up his clothes. Over the last several months, I've done a poor job training my son to put his clothes away correctly so they spend most of their time on his floor. It's had something to do with homeschooling, pregnancy with all it's particular joys, and now the added pleasure and excitement of a "gerdling" whom, with his frequent episodes of silently refluxing and gagging/coughing/choking when not in an upright position, requires most of everyone's time. But, I digress.

We were picking clothes up off the floor, trying to determine if they needed to be washed or folded (except for the clothes on the floor that WERE folded - those were easy to deal with) so I asked my son to sniff a couple of items. He sniffed, then he sniffed again. We're talking serious sniffs, too. After which he announced, without a grimace or a frown, "This needs to go in the laundry. It stinks!" Well, OK then.

Can you imagine a girl sniffing stinky anything more than once? Can you imagine a girl responding to a frontal assault on her olfactory nerve WITHOUT grimacing and making sure everyone knew how assaulted she really was? But for boys, it seems not to be a problem. I'm not sure if that is a good thing... But, it is a clear demonstration of the difference between boys and girls. I'm really glad I have mostly girls.

The Joys and Challenges of a Cool Mist Humidifier

2011-06-14T08:12:00.000-07:00

My son is battling yet another infection that plugs him up and makes breathing difficult, because of his reflux. So, I have spent yet another night parked under the cool mist humidifier with him in my arms. Because of how congested he is, I have the humidifier going full bore.

Of course, this means that a significant amount of humidity is in the air for both of us to breath. Consequently, I have stumbled onto a slightly ticklish situation: as I breath the humidity, it condenses on the little hairs in my nose! Oh my goodness, it tickles.

I haven't figured out a solution to this situation, but since JJ has a stuffy, goopy nose, I have tissue close by and can wipe both our noses as often as necessary. If I wasn't so tired, maybe I could come up with a creative design to prevent the problem. Since I'm exhausted, maybe I'll just buy stock in Kleenex instead.

Is It Too Late?

2011-06-01T00:52:00.000-07:00

The last few months have been quite difficult, primarily due to the severe reflux plaguing our youngest son. Today was one of those days when life was just crazy. So, I pondered the question, "Is it too late to rethink this whole large family thing?"

I sent a text with that question to my sweet sister and a dear friend, both of whom I knew would enjoy my twisted humor. The texts read,

"Is it 2 late 2 rethink the whole large family thing? I am going to LOSE. MY. MIND!!! Ahhhh. Try'n 2 do school & NOBODY. IS. LISTENING. Either the baby needs 2 eat or a diaper change or the toddler needs 2 sit on the potty or she missed and we have a mess 2 clean up or somebody is fighting or b'n rude. Ahhhh!!"

The reply was, of course, that it is most definitely WAY too late to rethink this whole thing. I'm committed. Or maybe I should be committed. Regardless, I am committed to finishing the race God has set before me. Sometimes I can't see the great cloud of witnesses through the piles of laundry, dust bunnies, and waves of spit up flowing down my shirt, but I know they are cheering me on because the Bible tells me so.

Days like today, so full of futility and frustration, are why I have chosen Galatians 6:9 as my life verse. The Marchauna Revised version says, "And do not grow weary in parenting, for in due time you will reap a harvest (of grown, well-adjusted, contributing members of society) if you do not lose heart." The key words are, "do not lose heart." I experienced great frustration today, but by God's grace and because of the love of two dear people, I did not lose heart. Maybe they are part of that great cloud of witnesses described in Hebrews.

It is most definitely too late to rethink this whole large family thing. But, the more I think about it, now that my large family is all quiet, asleep in their beds, I wouldn't trade my life for anything. It isn't an easy life, but it is my life and I really do love it, most of the time.

A Day in the Life

2011-05-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

I have decided to start chronicling my life, since it is so crazy sometimes I don't even belief what has gone on!

Today, along with the normal craziness that comes from having eight children between fifteen and new (you know; tears, tantrums, kids fighting with kids, kids fighting with mom, mom trying not to fight with anyone), my two year old stuck a bead up her nose! We didn't know it was a bead, of course, until it came out. But, that explains why it hurt to push on her nostril and why all the regular tricks didn't work.

We returned home to find things fairly quiet and our infant taking a bottle from a very capable big sister. After taking four ounces, he was still hungry, so his sister gave him another bottle. Having consummed a total of about five ounces, my sweet little boy became a volcano, spitting most of what he'd eaten all over the floor. My husband and daughter barely missed a forumla shower, though my husband, who doesn't handle puke well, didn't enjoy his front row seat.

Things are quieter now; the baby seems none the worse for wear after his ordeal. The toddler has recovered from her trauma (though she is not real happy with the doctor), and everyone else is downstairs watching television while they fold clothes. I'm getting ready for my weekly escape (my husband gives me a few kid-free hours to gain strength for the week to come), and dinner is already in the slow cooker. So, things are definitely settling down, for today.

Reflux

2011-05-14T09:46:00.000-07:00

I have joined the ranks of mothers wrestling with a baby who has reflux. This is my eighth baby, so it actually took a while longer to recognize the problems and get some help. You'd think it would be the opposite! But, I know babies spit up. And I know babies cry. So when my new son was doing both in excess, I just figured he was a little fussier and spittier than others. Until it went on for seven weeks.

Honestly, I felt silly taking my otherwise healthy son to the doctor because he cried so much. So I called one of my best friends (who is a PA-C) to see if it was crazy to see the doctor. She said no, not at all. So, we went to see the doctor.

The doctor, an older gentleman with grandkids, prescribed a medication that has some success helping with colic, ordered an upper G.I., and told me I needed to get two hours away from my son's crying every day. I couldn't take care of any of my children if I was completely spent from the anxiety and stress of not being able to soothe my little guy.

The test showed a normal anatomy, so my son projectile spitting wasn't a result of pyloric stenosis. It also showed severe reflux. I now had a reason for my son's constant crying, especially in his swing or car seat! But, I didn't have any answers.

We have been a quite a journey. After the diagnosis of reflux, our doctor gave us a stronger protien pump inhibitor, which has been helpful. I also began scouring the internet for information. Unfortunately, my search was not initially successful or encouraging. A variety of perspectives and thoughts, at times conflicting, gave me a sense of discouragement. It seemed that allergies are often a cause of reflux, so I wanted to try an elimination diet, but how long should I eliminate foods? The answers weren't forthcoming.

When my son started chocking and not breathing, I called my doctor back again. He sent us to a pediatric gastroenterologist. That didn't give me much more information, though the specialist did schedule a gastric emptying test and give me a sample of hypoallergenic formula to try, to see if the problem was an allergy to breast milk.

It wasn't until I found http://www.pollywogbaby.com/ that I started getting answers, and some hope. We don't know yet if this problem is simply gastro-esophogeal reflux (GER) or gastro-esophogeal reflux disease (GERD), but the information on the pollywog site has been tremendously helpful. The site has a store with products designed to treat the causes of reflux, not simply the symptoms, and has links to other sites where you can learn about elmination diets (even a plan for an elimination diet, with basic instructions), read articles by moms who have survived caring for children with GER and GERD, and just find hope. If you are struggling with reflux in a little one, please do yourself and your family a favor and check out http://www.pollywogbaby.com/!

Calgon....

2011-04-28T14:26:00.001-07:00

I may be showing my age, but I remember Calgon commericals. After showing a crazy situation featuring an overworked and overwhelmed mom, the mom would look at the camera and say, "Calgon, take me away." Suddenly, this overworked and overwhelmed mom would find herself in a bathtub full of bubbles (Calgon bubbles) in an oasis of peace and quiet. So, my joke, when life is a little crazy, is to look at my husband and say something about Calgon.

Well, today really is a Calgon day!!

Our water is off, for the second day, as a crew of guys works to connect us with the city sewer system.

Three of my eight children were running fevers of 102+ through the night.

We awoke to the sound of jackhammers.

A kid dumped water down the sink (after the pipes had been cut) and flooded our basement.

One of my girls broke her finger.

My seven week old son had an upper GI at a hospital 25 minutes away and he screams in his car seat.

When I got in the car to buckle him in, I discovered the car seat wasn't buckled in to the car, then I discovered that my two year old's car seat wasn't buckled into the car!

When we got to the hospital, about 10 minutes after we were supposed to check in, parking was a zoo, and my son was screaming in his car seat. I called to say we were going to be late and found out that we were on the wrong side of the hospital complex.

By the time we actually got in to where we were supposed to be, we were 20 minutes late for the x-ray!

I was on the verge of tears. So, I did what any self-respecting 40+ year old mother of eight would do. I called my mommy. And like the wonderful mother she is, she met me at the hospital, hugged me, prayed for me, and took my kids, then bought all of us lunch.

When I got home, I discovered that we still don't have water, but I'd forgotten to store water, so we don't have any water for things like washing hands, or rinsing dishes, or refilling humidifiers to help sick kids breath easier. This really is a Calgon day!!

I wonder if I volunteered to make a commercial if the people at Calgon would whisk me away to a deserted bathroom lit by candles with a tub filled with warm water and bubbles. Probably not, but just imaging the setting has me feeling better already.

Big Boy Toys

2011-04-27T18:26:00.000-07:00

Our house was built before the sewer came through our part of town, so we've been operating with a septic system since moving in two and a half years ago. Just over a year ago, we received a letter from the local county health department that we had to connect to the sewer. That process began today.

Because we educate our children at home, we have the privilege of making the most of different opportunities, like when a huge backhoe pulls into your yard and starts digging a 12 foot hole! The mother of a four year old boy, I expected he would be enthralled. What I didn't expect was how my daughters would respond. Three of my daughters lined up on the couch along with my son, captivated by each step of the process of connecting our home to the sewer lines. They watched until the pile of dirt in our front yard obscured their view of the backhoe and workmen. But, they were back at the window again watching as the men returned all the dirt back to its proper location.

I've heard it said that the only difference between men and boys is the price they pay for their toys. I don't know that I completely agree with that perspective, but my little boy (and his big sisters) really like those big toys!

When are you due?

2011-01-05T18:02:00.001-08:00

I'm eight months pregnant with baby number eight. After this many pregnancies, you might say things are well broken in. As a result, I look more pregnant than I really am. A young friend recently gave birth to her first, and she looked smaller at nine months than I did at seven! But, like I said, things are well broken in.

The other day I was wandering around a discount store, waiting for the mechanic to figure out why the check-engine light came on in our car. Time to wander is unusual for me, and I quickly tired for the sport, so I was hanging around the televisions, watching episodes from the BBC production Planet Earth. An older woman approached me and we started chatting about the video. Then she asked me when I was due and if I was expecting twins, or maybe triplets?! When I replied that I wasn't due until March and was only having one baby, her comment was, "Wow, you're big."

Though not surprised by the response, it wasn't something I expected from a perfect stranger. Then, of course, I got home and my seven year old daughter said exactly the same thing! According to the Bible, children are a blessing and a gift. I guess I'm blossoming with my blessing, and I'm going to celebrate the privilege of this baby, even if I'm reminded on multiple occassions that I'm very big. It is a small price to pay for the blessing of being a mother.

21st Century Kids

2010-12-31T21:55:00.000-08:00

You can always tell kids born after digital cameras became common - they want to see the picture as soon as it is taken. My kids are no different, clamoring to catch a glimpse of photos just snapped.

Recently, my son took it to a whole new level. He built a digital camera out of legos. After snapping my picture, he turned his camera around and showed me the resulting image. The entire experience was basically an exercise in make-believe, but I played along. As convincing as my performance may have been to my son, inside, I was laughing. Who could have imagined, when I was a child, that children of the next generation would be building digital cameras out of legos and proudly showing their photos to anyone?! And how precious to see a child who can barely even talk asking to "see" the scenes captured by an older brother on a fake digital camera.

What an adventure it is to raise 21st Century kids!

Happy New Year's, or maybe not

2010-12-31T21:39:00.000-08:00

Due to sheer exhaustion from an incredibly busy week, we decided to ring in the new year at 9pm, with everyone in New York, instead of waiting for midnight to arrive on the west coast. After toasting the new year (with sparkling cider) while watching 2010 give way to 2011, I wanted to capture the moment with a picture of the whole family. It didn't go so well.

To paint the scene, picture someone not quite two crying, a feverish four-year old boy jockeying for position on Daddy's lap, and five other kids trying to figure out where to plant themselves on the couch. Finally, we gave up on the baby, deciding to record for all history only those who were cooperating with the process. Then, a younger sister blocked her sibling's face with a glass of sparkling cider and that sibling hit the younger sister on the arm while everyone else tried to get out of the way. Tears and trauma ensued, all serenaded by the wails of a very unhappy toddler.

Finally, after addressing the behavior issues and the attitude issues and again quieting the baby, everyone was reassembled on the couch (minus the baby, who was on Mommy's lap). Before counting to three, I told everyone to plaster on fake smiles. Then, I snapped the picture. It actually turned out better than I would have expected, considering the circumstances. But, looking at the photo in the future, I won't see just the smiles on faces, I'll remember the sounds, the sorrow, and the chaos that preceded it knowing just how "happy" the experience really was.

Long-term investing

2010-12-08T18:47:00.000-08:00

Mothering is a long-term investment. You don't see results for years, many years! And, sometimes when you begin to see results, they can be so subtle that you can miss the significance of what is happening. I've been that way lately, but God gave me a gentle wake-up call just today.

Because we homeschool, we have the flexibility to refocus our studies depending on the time of year. So, during the holidays, we focus on home economics. We've been baking, making candy, and sewing, as well as working through budgets for gifts, figuring out how much has been spent and how much we have left, and taking extra time to read aloud as a family. It has been wonderful.

As I was describing our focus this month to a friend, I began to realize that I am beginning to reap some rewards from my years-long investing. Girls helped make Thanksgiving dinner, one of my girls regularly helps me out by making dinner (and she does a fantastic job), another girl cleaned out the refridgerator WITHOUT BEING ASKED! and organized the whole thing. And, my girls completely manage our laundry. At times the laundry room is being overtaken by Mt. Washmore or Mt. Foldmore, but still, the girls are doing the job. And they are doing it well.

There have been days when I thought I'd never get past wiping noses and changing diapers, when the words "What's for dinner?" filled me with dread, and when I didn't have the energy to even read. My days are still very full, but I'm beginning to see success, and I'm very encouraged. Best of all, I really enjoy spending time with my children! They are really turning into neat young people. So, I guess you could say I'm getting a good return on my investment. I'm certainly happy with it!

Thankful for Thanksgiving

2010-11-26T16:15:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been learning that I need to learn to live in my giftings, whether in parenting, or educating my children, or managing my home. God made me a certain way, and when I operate out of God's design, I do so much better. As a result, yesterday and Wednesday were two of my favorite parenting days ever!

Instead of trying to complete all the assignments and check all the boxes in my teacher's guide while preparing Thanksgiving dinner for fourteen people, I decided to focus on enjoying my children and truly celebrating the holiday. Wednesday morning, we did math in the kitchen, measuring ingredients for pie crust. Wednesday afternoon, our science lesson included experimenting with what happens to hot liquid if you add corn starch to it while making cherry pie filling. We tried another version of the same experiement when we made apple pie (from scratch) and included corn starch - both fillings got thicker!

Thursday, we focused on home economics and turkey preparation. While I supervised, two of my daughters went through the steps to prepare turkeys for the roaster. We did two turkeys because of an economics lesson (it is cheaper to buy a smaller turkey when you already have one in the freezer) and a lesson in preparation (smaller turkeys thaw faster, which is helpful when Thanksgiving sneaks up on you) or what happens when you aren't prepared.

Both days were delightful. Everyone got in on the educational experiences - even my 22 month old daughter. She loved playing with the pie crust. My son reveled in his position as taste tester, though he would much rather of actually been a pie maker. While the turkeys cooked on Thursday, some kids played games with their papa while others watched a movie with their dad. It wasn't hectic, chaotic, or stressful. I relaxed (with my feet up!) and read the paper, getting a head start on my Black Friday shopping. And, when we sat down to the meal, I could honestly say that one of the most precious reasons I had to be thankful was my children. What a gift. This year, I am especially thankful for Thanksgiving, and the gentle reminder to be who God designed me to be.

Let is SNOW!

2010-11-22T22:35:00.000-08:00

Winter may not officially start until December 21, but for the Rodgers family, it started today. We awoke to at least two inches of snow on the ground this morning. If not for the blessing of the Suburban (for details go to http://www.intheharvest.wordpress.com/), our day would have looked MUCH different.

Since we had the Suburban, we were able to accomplish most of our tasks with little or no interference from the weather. Not being a "weather" person myself, I wasn't watching the satellite radar all afternoon. I just knew it was cold. Fortunately, I didn't' need to be watching the satellite picture; my husband was. He began celebrating shortly after 4pm, when he showed me on the National Oceanography and Atmospheric Administration website (http://www.nws.noaa.gov/) the forecast for a blizzard. His comments have been over and over, (with great delight in his voice) "I've never been in a blizzard before!"

About 9pm, much to my husband's dismay, he noticed the moon shining through a break in the clouds. We hadn't had enough snow yet!! We were supposed to get inches, not just a dusting. Well, as I head to bed, it is snowing quite well outside, the moon is no longer visible, and my husband is almost as excited as a school boy on the first day of vacation. That is a very good thing. Let it snow!

Don't Grow Weary...

2010-11-16T17:01:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was probably one of my worst on record, or at least it feels that way. Today, however, one of my children made yesterday all worth it!!

Our son, four years old, isn't necessarily very good at putting down the toilet seat. He doesn't always remember to flush. He doesn't even hit the bowl every time he goes to the bathroom. But, this afternoon when the toilet roll as empty, he knew just what to do!! He replaced the roll!!

Now, if that isn't a reason to hang in there with parenting, I don't know what is. Tomorrow, when the toilet hasn't been flushed and the seat is up, again, and toys are strewn from one end of the house to the other, I'll still be able to remember that my son replaced the toilet paper all on his own.

My favorite parenting verse comes from Galatians, and says (in Marchauna's Revised Edition), "Do not grow weary in well doing, for in due time you will reap a harvest, if you do not lose heart." Today was a harvest reaping day!!

Can I really do all things...

2010-11-15T14:55:00.000-08:00

My life is very full right now. I have seven children and I'm pregnant. I am teaching pre-algebra, multiplication tables, prepositional phrases, adjectives, adverbs, and reading. I'm teaching geography, ecology, home economics, and writing. All that plus managing a home and trying to keep my preschoolers out of trouble for most of the day.

This morning was a particularly difficult morning. Though I awoke at 5:30am, I tossed and turned until after 7am, too tired to get out of bed any earlier. Then, before I could brew a cup of tea or even brush my teeth, girls were asking me to help them with homework, to check final assignments, and to sign off on papers for the co-op we're part of. Without enough time to even eat breakfast, and with full recognition of my failures, yet again, we headed off to school, late.

As God walked beside me through the challenges, He gently reminded me that His love is not dependent on my performance. With the fog clearing and my mind was not completely absorbed in my failures, God's Spirit whispered in my heart the words from Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens me." ESV

Sinking into my heart, the words brought to mind a song from Steve Green's "Hide 'em in Your Heart" series. The song is basically Philippians 4:13 set to music. As I repeated that song over and over in my head, I didn't do "all things." Instead, it became easier to do what was needed; simply do the next thing.

It is true. With Jesus, I can do all things! I don't need to do them all at once. I will never be "super mom." But, I can do the most important thing. I can keep putting one foot after another.

A New Perspective on ABC Gum

2010-10-27T19:00:00.001-07:00

As a mother of six girls, I'm quite familiar with how girls behave. Even though my girls are spread out between one and fifteen, in many ways raising girls is fairly routine. Raising boys, however, is most definitely not.

My only son, who turned four the beginning of October, has finally been given the privilege of chewing gum. It has been, in his mind, a very long journey that should have ended quite some time ago. In my mind, it is still a scary thought and one I'm not really ready for. In the end, my son is chewing gum.

As a result, we are, of course, once again going through the process of training a child the rules of chewing gum. If you have ever tried to instill into a child the rules of gum chewing, you know that one of the most important is keeping the gum in your mouth. In my experience, the best way to instill a respect for that rule is to take gum away when it comes out of a mouth. It is a technique that has worked quite well, until now.

After reluctantly giving my son a piece of sugar-free chewing gum, I noticed he was playing with it. He received a warning, then was instructed to put the gum in the garbage, which he did. Later, I noticed he was again chewing gum and playing with it. So, I told him to put it in the garbage, again, to which he replied, "But Mommy, I already put it in the garbage two times!"

Apparently, I needed to give my son further instructions. Not only was he supposed to put his gum in the garbage, but he needed to LEAVE IT THERE!! Obviously, I have a few lessons to learn about training boys. And, this experience has given a whole new perspective to the phrase "Already Been Chewed Gum!"

Supermarket Survival

2010-10-11T21:02:00.000-07:00

I have seven children, so my life is definitely busy. Between helping older kids with homework and teaching little ones to use the toilet, besides laundry, dishes, and meals, I have to make the most of my time. Usually that means shopping on my own or with one or two children. Rarely do I venture into the store with all seven of my children. Today was one of those rare occassions.

Today was very full, with co-op classes, a dentist appointment, a trip to the library, and a much needed stop at the grocery store. Out of absolute necessity, I found myself at the supermarket with all seven of my children.

The fun started in the parking lot. Before I'd been able to put my keys in my purse and get out of the car, three of my children had already run over to the shopping cart "keeper" and were climbing on it! They quickly responded to my call but before I could direct them to all put their hands on the cart, my youngest, who was sitting in a cart, was pushed across the lot to the next row of parking spots! Yikes; it didn't look good.

Over the years, I've learned a few things about navigating a supermarket with a bunch of kids. Today, it worked like a charm. Each kid had a different list (though not everyone wanted a list), they went and gathered their specific items, then reported back to me. It worked smoothly, except that we got stuck in the candy isle (oops) where the little ones kept up a constant chorus of "Can I have this? What about this? Please, Mommy, will you buy me this, please?" Even with the miscalculation in destination, we made it through the store in record time (30 minutes from start to finish), and without completely descimating my budget! It felt like a major victory, once I knew I had survived.

Ladies' First

2010-10-03T17:46:00.001-07:00

As the mother of a son, I am trying diligently to instill in him the virtues of being a gentleman. But, he is three, so my goal is more long-term. If I am diligent, then maybe by the time he starts dating, he'll be prepared for the rules of engagement with the opposite sex. Obviously, I want him to recognize that hitting and biting are not ok, and that (in spite of our cultural tendancy towards the opposite) he should let girls go first.

Well, I have proof that some of my training has at least begun to sink in. As you will see in a few minutes, however, a bit of additional instruction is needed.

Recently my son and his next older sister (who is almost exactly three years older) were playing in the living room. As normally happens, my precious six year old provoked her brother until he hit her. To hopefully discourage such behavior in the future, both children got in trouble.

As the three of us walked together into the kitchen for consequences to be administered, my son, who was in front, piped up. With pleading eyes and in a sweet, somewhat desperate though very sincere voice he said "Mommy. Mommy, wait...Ladies' first."

It was very difficult not to burst out laughing! The poor little guy was so sincere! And he really was trying to apply the lessons his mother had been teaching him. Something had sunk in. Obviously, however, we need to modify the training this future man has been receiving.

The Power of a Hug

2010-08-31T13:07:00.000-07:00

Today has been a rather exasperating day; lots of kids crying, lots of arguments, big kids needing big kid stuff, little kids needing little kid stuff, and Mom has to fix everything. Ugh. It has been a long day, we just made it to lunch!!

But, amidst the tears and trauma, drama and disasters, one of my kids came and gave me a big hug. No reason - they just loved their mama and wanted me to know. Before that hug, I was in desperate need of a Calgon escape and might have considered letting my kids go join the circus. Afterwards, though, Calgon no longer needed to take me away, and no circus master was gonna have the opportunity to look twice at my kids! I was renewed by the power of a hug.

My husband knows the same power. He found me trying to dig out from under the clutter in the pantry. Knowing how frustrated I get with the pantry's tendancy towards breeding chaos, he smiled at me (he has a great smile) and called me to him, then wrapped me in a wonderfully relaxing, soothing, and nurturing hug. The craziness of the pantry suddenly didn't seem so overwhelming. Actually, all the problems of my day got smaller. All because of the power of a hug.

It really is Rocket Science

2010-05-18T19:10:00.001-07:00

Recently, I've heard the phrase, "It isn't rocket science" several times. It has always occurred when someone was talking about a topic that didn't seem difficult. Yet, in spite of the apparent simplicity of the topic, not that many people truly excelled. Football coaching is one recent example. Administrating a small volunteer organization was another. Effectively communicating and parenting were thrown in as well.

None of the topics seemed terribly difficult. The basics of football are the same whether you are coaching grade school kids, or leading a team to the Super Bowl. Football is football. You can fill in the blank, but most tasks are really the same; every one has access to the same basic pool of information. Somehow, though, certain people excel, and others either get by, or crash and burn in failure.

So, what is the key? Honestly, I don't know. The conclusion I've drawn, however, is that rocket science (or brain surgery), are pretty straight forward. They may be complicated and difficult, but certain aspects can actually be easy. The anatomy and physiology of the brain are a constant, making it easy to know what or what not to do (like what you don't want to cut). Though I don't know for sure, I'm guessing that certain aspects of rocket science also contain constants. It is, after all, a science. If you mix the wrong compounds, the rocket won't get into space, but pieces of you might. And, if you don't have the math right(which is very exact), you will definitely be very sorry.

Parenting, on the other hand, or coaching (or leading in any situation, really), is much more of an art than a science. There are some basic truths, but how to apply them can be a huge mystery. So, the next time you think, "Well, how hard can this be? It isn't rocket science!" remember that while rocket science is difficult, it is a science. Life is not. It is much more difficult!

Homelessness

2010-04-27T22:11:00.000-07:00

I'm a mama. I have a mama's heart, and my mama's heart is breaking as the "homeless" cease to be easily dismissed nameless, faceless old men with signs on the side of the road and become people with names, and faces, and stories. This transformation has come as a result of serving lunch at the local Union Gospel Mission twice a month with my children. Everyone of the people I've see at in the lunch line were tiny newborn babies once, just as precious the babies I've held in my arms.

Homelessness is a hot topic. Many people have strong opinions on what the causes are and what should be done about "the problem." Most everyone in America has driven past a homeless beggar holding a sign, usually on a freeway on-ramp or off-ramp. And the problem seems to be getting worse.

We struggle with the question; should we give homeless people money, or not? If we do, how do we know they won't use it to buy drugs or alcohol? If we don't, how do we deal with that nagging voice in our head? A few years ago, the local news station did an investigative report on street beggars, revealing that they can actually make hundreds of dollars a day. So, do they really need the money or are we being scammed?!

Picture holding a precious baby in your arms. Now, picture that baby all grown up, hungry, cold, and alone in a very dangerous and hostile world, homeless. Is that a life you want for your children? Is it the life their mamas wanted for them?

The way I look at Scripture, the homeless are our neighbors. We're supposed to love them as we love ourselves, and I doubt anyone reading this blog would choose to be homeless and hungry if they had an option. How will you answer the question, "If I were homeless, how would I want to be treated?" For me, it means packing up my kids and driving down to the mission to devote some time to serve lunch with a smile and kind word. I don't know what it means to you, but my challenge to you is; think about it.

The Power of Example, part II

2010-04-13T22:05:00.000-07:00

I only have one three year old son. As the only son, he is very interested in copying his daddy, which I totally understand and appreciate. He wants to be with his daddy; he wants to do what his daddy does.

Tonight, as I was helping him get ready for bed, I noticed that my son had a certain faintly familiar aroma. It smelled vaguely like my husband's deodorant. When I asked my son if he'd used his daddy's deodorant, it was obvious that my question made no sense. So, I investigated.

Sure enough, my son's armpits smelled just like his daddy's deodorant! My son, though no where near old enough to need deodorant, had copied his daddy by putting it on. Obviously there is a little something lacking in the copying, because Daddy doesn't usually put deodorant on at night, but who pays attention to such things when you are only three?

It was so cute and I, of course, burst out laughing. My son responded appropriately, grinning and looking shy (like he does whenever he isn't sure what is going on but definitely likes the attention) but obviously pleased with himself and my response. I'm afraid I've created a monster; as the sixth of seven children, he'll do just about anything for attention! But, whatever happens, I'm pretty sure he'll smell good =>

World-Class Juggling

2010-04-10T21:02:00.000-07:00

I reluctantly joined the ranks of soccer moms today, to an extreme degree. Somehow I managed to enroll three girls in a spring soccer program. We figured out soccer practice. But, we didn't figure out games.

For everyone's first game, wouldn't you know, my husband was out of town. Three girls were playing soccer on different fields at different times. It required me to figure out how to be two places at the same time. The game start times were staggered, and two girls were playing on the same field, though at different times. If that wasn't bad enough, all three girls needed shin-guards.

So, I drove the first girl to the soccer field, dropping her off while I ran to the store to pick up shin guards. Unfortunately, the store was having a huge sale and the door we went through (normally the quietest part of the store) was crazy busy!! Wouldn't you know it!

Though slowed down a bit, we were able to get the shin guards, drive home, load the remaining children into our van, drop the youngest and oldest girls off at the second field, drive back to the first field, leave the last girl with her coach, catch a glimpse of the first girl running up and down the field before rushing back to the second field to watch the youngest girl chase up and down the field, though she didn't have a clue what she was doing.

In the end, my baptism into soccer mommyhood was actually not too bad. Everyone made it to their respective games on time, someone was at each game to watch children play (even if it wasn't necessarily me), and we didn't forget anyone anywhere. I think we've figured out a pretty good game plan for future Soccer Saturdays, and my kids had a fantastic time. In the final analysis, that is what truly matters.

Intrinsic Value

2010-04-07T18:02:00.000-07:00

I have a 14 year old daughter. So, suddenly, I know nothing.

Recently, we were in a situation where my daughter was in desperate pain. She didn't know for sure what she'd done or how, but she knew she was in pain. It just so happened we were away from home, out having fun with some friends. It also just so happened that one of our friends is a medical provider who has worked in family practice and knows how to treat backs.

But, remember, this young lady is 14 years old. So, of course, no one knows anything. All the advice we gave, all the ways we tried to help, all our attempts to get her comfortable were of no avail. She refused our suggestions, fought our efforts, resisted our attempts. I was so frustrated at that point that a comment I've heard before made total sense - I now understand why some creatures eat their own young.

Well, my daughter's back pain did not improve much between Saturday and today. So, we took her to the doctor. I was totally prepared to force her to cooperate with the doctor, based on my experience with her over the weekend. I didn't know what it would look like to force her, but she was going to listen to the doctor and do what he recommended.

Wouldn't you know it - I didn't have to force her at all!! She was very cooperative, even submissive and compliant. I was amazed. When I asked about it afterwards, expressing my surprise, do you know what she said?! She told me that "I knew you were right, but I didn't want to do what you said because I was afraid it would hurt." Then she said, "I knew you were paying for the doctor." Can you believe it? Even though she had a medical professional, who knows just as much as the doctor, telling her the same thing as her very own mother, she didn't listen to us because it didn't cost anyone anything!! Oh my goodness!

You know what will really be funny? When this 14 year old daughter grows up and has a 14 year old daughter of her own. She'll (hopefully) remember this experience when she is expressing her frustration. If she doesn't, I'll be sure to remind her.

Earth shattering news

2010-03-30T22:27:00.000-07:00

We live up in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. The land discovered by Lewis and Clark and purchase by Thomas Jefferson for a song (and a dance) a couple hundred years ago, but not yet discovered by the masses.

By God's grace, our neck of the woods is really a piece of Heaven on earth. We get to enjoy four seasons (you know; baseball season, fishing season, football season, and basketball season). Though we have some nasty creepy crawlies (like Brown Recluse and Black Widow spiders) and snakes out here aren't too friendly (the famed and feared rattlesnake doesn't want anyone to forget it was here first), in general, it is pretty safe. We don't have hurricanes or tornadoes, and we're fairly well protected from tsunamis in most places.

Over the course of our recent history, though, we've had a few exciting things. A volcano has blown its top. And, earthquakes have shaken our foundations a time or two. Never very seriously, but enough to say we'd been in an earthquake. Actually, I've been in at least two.

A couple of my daughters and I were actually very close to the epicenter of one during our recent visit with friends in Moses Lake, WA. It was pretty minor (3.2 on the richter scale), and we didn't even really feel it. All that really matters is the fact that it happened. One interesting piece of information the news cast left out, though. Just about the same time the earthquake was registering, a bunch of very exuberant little girls were running down the second floor hallway of a local hotel on their way back from playing in the pool. A coincidence? I don't think so!! And, for the purposes of discouraging such behavior in the future, this mom thinks the timing works out quite well. Next time my children think about running, I can warn them not to, they might cause an earthquake!

The Power of Example

2010-02-08T18:53:00.000-08:00

I am an over-protective mom.

When my kids ride in a car, they ALWAYS ride in seat belts or approved boosters. I was even told one of my children needed to NOT be in a booster because she was too big. My one year old daughter still rides with her carseat facing backwards, because it is safer.

Every one of my children wear helmets when they ride their bikes or scooters, period. I used to have trouble with my husband. He'd make comments about how he never used a helmet when he was growing up. But, after a helmet saved the life of our third daughter, he was convinced.

Now, I've discovered just how powerful examples can be. Our three year old son has a very cool bike - it is a Tonka bike. Unfortunately, he doesn't get to ride it nearly as often as he would like to, because we live on a relatively busy street and I'm overprotective. But, I recently told him he could ride his bike on our walk.

After giving my little guy permission to ride his bike, I proceeded to finish getting my youngest daughter ready for our walk. In a few minutes, I called for my son, to let him know it was time to get his bike out. I couldn't find him ANYWHERE! I checked for him upstairs, downstairs, and in the back yard. He wasn't anywhere, but I did discover the garage door was open.

To my horror, I found my son riding his bike up and down the street!!

Though he'd never been shown how, my little three year old unlocked and opened the garage door all by himself, put his helmet on (backwards), and pulled his bike out of its assigned spot. All learned simply by watching the example of others.

It is easy to forget just how powerful our example is, and how much training is going on simply by the example we set.

I wish I always set good examples! I wish that I always made the right choice. Because I always see, in my children, the results of the example I've set. In this case, the example was good. I wish it always was.

The Danger of Safety

2010-01-30T00:08:00.000-08:00

As a dutiful homeschooling mother, I recently checked out several books on safety from the library. You know, all the cute little preschool stories about looking both ways before you cross the street, why you never talk to strangers, and what to do if you catch fire.

Being the dutiful homeschooling mama that I am, it seemed appropriate, after reading a book on what to do if you catch fire, to practice. So, we did.

First, we went through the steps:

STOP
DROP
ROLL

It was simple enough, so after reviewing the steps, we were ready. We milled about the room for a few moments, then I announced, "Oh no. You're on fire!" Immediately, everyone in the room stopped what they were doing, dropped to the ground, and proceeded to roll with great enthusiasm and giggling (it is, after all, quite entertaining to be rolling around on the ground pretending to be on fire). The problem was, we didn't roll the same direction.

You can imagine what happened; kids rolled into each other and into furniture. In just moments, pandemonium broke out! Two kids simultaneously burst into tears. Then the baby, sure something terrible was going on, added her shrill cry to the cacophany. How, I asked myself, could a lesson on safety go so wrong?

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the rucus was over. Cuddled in the safety of Mom's lap, with comforting arms around them, the three youngest kids were soon consoled.

It was a very memorable lesson, though I think I learned more than the kids. One thing for sure, the next time we practice safety techniques, I'll be sure to coordinate our response and clear the area of furniture!

Rocket science... or not

2009-12-27T19:09:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake. To borrow another phrase, I may not be the sharpest tack in the box. That is the only reason I could have lived in the same house for over a year and only today had my "ah-ha moment." And no, it did not take a rocket scientist!

The source of my ah-ha moment was with the shower. We have one shower. We have seven bodies using that one shower. Thus it is logistically impossible to get every one of those seven bodies clean and ready for church on Sunday morning. Not only do we quickly run out of hot water (not too bad in the summer, but very much a bummer in the middle of winter), but we also quickly run out of time! If you figure 15 minutes per shower (and that is conservative when six women or women-to-be are showering) times seven people, it takes almost two hours of constant use, just to get bodies clean and that doesn't include time to dry off or wipe down the shower walls!

Though I knew a household of women would need a second shower/bath in time, it wasn't until today that I realized just how badly we need one. If we had a second shower, we could reduce the necessary shower time by half (though it would do nothing to reduce water usage or the available amount of hot water) and reduce the burden on our main bathroom.

Unfortunately for us, I have no idea how long it will take to get that second shower or even where to start. I have an old clawfoot bath tub and we have a place for a shower/bath, but getting from need to concept to design to implementation is a process I can not even imagine right now. So, we'll have to figure out another creative solution. Hmm, I wonder what time the Y opens on Sunday mornings?

Christmas memories

2009-12-25T22:22:00.000-08:00

I love Christmas!! It is such a special time, filled with precious memories, traditions, and (my personal favorite) time with family!

Actually, this year was extra special because we had extra time with my husband's family. Everyone is pretty tired by now, but the time over the last week has been very sweet. To top it off, today we celebrated Christmas with my side of the family, too.

You really CAN take it with you

2009-12-22T00:17:00.000-08:00

I'm a pretty proud parent, in a subtle, unassuming sort of way. I love, no, I absolutely adore my children and have invested my entire life in caring for them and preparing them for adulthood.

I also love Jesus and believe the Bible is true. I believe in a literal Heaven and a literal Hell, and I believe some people will choose to go to Hell (because God doesn't choose to send anyone there-we can talk about that later). Because I hold these to be facts, I am also investing my life in teaching my children about Jesus. And the reason is simple; my children are the only treasure to be in Heaven with me.

You've probably heard the comment that not many U-hall trailers are pulled behind a hearse. The reason is, the person riding in the hearse doesn't need their "stuff" anymore. They could not take anything with them; it all got left behind. Many different cultures tried to send provisions with the dead, but all attempts have been futile. That is why treasure hunters find treasures in tombs.

But, since my children are my greatest treasure, and since those who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ will be saved and go to Heaven, then all my children who have believed in the Lord Jesus Christ (5, to this point) will go to Heaven. We will be there together. My greatest treasure will be with me. I can't imagine a more wonderful way to invest my life, or a more worthwhile return on my investment.

Turning Forty

2009-11-30T20:29:00.000-08:00

It is official. Today I'm 40. As one who has marked the major milestones of my children's lives with great enthusiasm, my children are marking this major milestone of my life with just as much enthusiasm. They are more excited about my birthday than I am! But, I wonder. Does turning 40 mean I have to grow up?

Honestly, I think becoming a grown up happens over time. It is a gradual process that doesn't suddenly occur because of some arbitrary date on a calendar says so. It happens day by day, as lessons are learned and choices are made. Maybe turning 40 is a big deal because many lessons have been learned and wiser choices are being made (hopefully).

I certainly like being on the easier side of the learning curve of life, recognizing how to avoid (for the most part) experiences that are terribly painful. I also like understanding the process of the seasons, knowing that though the cold, dark months of winter have frozen the landscape, spring is coming. No matter how hard the winter is or how long it holds on, flowers will bloom and summer's heat will bring the bountiful harvest of fall. No matter how painful life is now, or how awful circumstances seem to be, Jesus really is walking with me each step of the way and it really will get better.

My favorite lesson comes from my dear mother-in-law; it is never too late. It is never too late for learning, growing, or changing. So, whether turning 40 means I'm finally a grown up or not, I am not going to stop growing and learning. I am confident God is going to keep His promise to finish what He has begun in me and that in time I will be a perfect reflection of Jesus.

The value of thumbs

2009-11-17T13:08:00.000-08:00

I was using a knife recently, a very sharp one! I slipped and the knife sunk into the fleshy part of my thumb. Thankfully it was my left thumb, but it is still greatly affecting my life! Suddenly, I am recognizing the tremendous value of thumbs.

I've never thought much about having thumbs. I've heard that thumbs are what set us humans apart from other creatures in the animal kingdom. But, it was of little value to me. I only have two thumbs and they don't get noticed that often. Suddenly, now that I am not using one of my thumbs, it is VERY noticable and creating difficulty in my life! Yikes - how do animals survive without thumbs?!

Have you ever heard the phrase, "all thumbs?" People say it when they are having trouble using their hands for whatever reason. It is generally a negative thing. After my experiences this week, though, I have a new perspective. Oh my goodness; I'd rather be ALL thumbs than have no thumbs! Right now I'm noticing my thumb more than I have for years. When I bump the injury, it hurts. If I use my thumb (or even my hand) wrong, it puts tension on the laceration and it hurts. For a while after I cut it, it just throbbed.

By God's grace, my thumb is healing quickly. I'll probably be able to go band-aid free in a few days. Suddenly, I see the value of thumbs and I'm very thankful for the two I have!

Christmas carols revisited

2009-11-04T18:44:00.000-08:00

As I type this, I'm sitting in Starbucks, listening to the latest holiday release by Sting. Though it is difficult to capture, the strains of an old Christmas carol float in the air. The only difference is, this is a holiday album, not a Christmas album. The inspiring words of this Christmas carol, which was written to proclaim Jesus as the Savior of mankind is not a part of the melody.

As the holidays approach, my heart is deeply grieved. We have all the traditions that surround Christmas, but they are mostly devoid of the meanings they once held. People sing songs that have eternal value and significance, chasing after the etherial "meaning of life" never realizing that the meaning they are looking for is captured in the songs they sing at this time of year.

Our Gospel isn't hid; it is in plain sight, in the form of Christmas carols, "but the god of this world has blinded the minds of unblievers, to keep them from seeing the Light of the Gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God." 2 Cor 4:4 ESV. People need Jesus. He is the answer to every question and the ultimate solution to every problem. But, those who are most desperate for the answers He offers are the most unable (or unwilling) to see Him and what He offers.

I pray that perhaps even through the "winter holiday songs" on the new Sting album, people will be pointed to the One who is the way, the truth and the life, and through whom you can know God.

The Value of being Invisible

2009-10-30T20:49:00.000-07:00

I heard the poem "The Invisible Mother" Mary Lynn Plaisance at a MOPS (http://www.mops.com/) meeting and wanted to share it with all the moms I know. It was very encouraging.

If you want to read it, please visit www.authorsden.com/visit/viewshortstory.asp?id=37319. It is my guess that you will be greatly encouraged and blessed.

If you are a mom, remember, you are building greatness when no one sees. The little things you do to bless and serve your family really do matter to God.

You know you're getting old...

2009-10-16T19:22:00.000-07:00

I will soon be 40 years old. It isn't a big deal; my best friends have turned 40 already and they survived. I don't feel old enough to be almost 40, and I am no where near grow up enough to have achieved such a significant milestone. I've never been terribly vain, so most of the time I don't worry about how I look either. Many people have told me I look very young and believe neither that I am the mother of seven nor that I am almost 40 and that is good enough for me.

Recently, though, my oldest daughter (a teenager) removed any doubt as to whether I am indeed getting old. She exclaimed, after pulling a white hair from my head, that I need to go see Lisa (my stylist) soon because I need my hair colored!! Can you believe it? No subtlety, no hints, no gentle comments. She didn't leave any doubt as to her opinion; I'm getting old and I need to color my hair.

I will, of course, heed her suggestion. Lisa is a dear friend (and over 40) has already told me she has a plan for making my graying locks look fresh once more. It will not, however, turn back the clock or stop the progression of time. I am getting older. My hair will continue needing help to cover gray until I decide to go with, as my other daughter calls it, my silver lining. When that will happen, I don't know. It will depend on if I decide to grow old gracefully (not very graceful, so I don't know how that will work), or if, like Lauren Bacall, I'll fight it every step of the way.

Spinning Plates

2009-09-15T14:40:00.000-07:00

Today I had the pleasure of attending MOPS (http://www.mops.org/), where the speaker compared parenting to spinning plates. Having seen a person spinning plates at the fair, the comparison worked well for me. I realized I have a few plates spinning, and if I'm to be successful with what God has given me to do, I need to be intentional.

The first step to being intentional is to figure out just which plates I want to keep spinning and which ones I should retire, even if just for a while. Of all the plates I try to spin, the one I'd most like to retire is housekeeping. Unfortunately, that is one that just can't be dropped. So, I've been trying to figure out what not to do and how to say no so I can accomplish those few things that are truly important to me. It is proving to be more difficult than I expected. Sometimes being intentional is one of the most difficult tasks in the world.

Of course, just when you think you are set to go with being intentional, something comes up which you could not anticipate and which requires you to throw all your plans for intentionality up in the air in a desperate attempt just to live life. Since I don't want any of the plates I'm frantically trying to spin to go crashing to the ground, and since I don't seem able to figure out which ones can be retired, I'm stuck looking like a clown in the circus as I run back and forth between responsibilities.

In the end, what I've decided is that I am totally incapable of keeping the plates spinning that represent my life. To that end, I've been meditating on a couple of passages from the Bible. The first is Matthew 11:28, 29 and 30. The Marchauna's Revised Version goes something like "Come to me (Jesus) all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and lowly, and you will find rest for your weary soul. My yoke is easy and my burden is light." The other passage is in Philippians, and goes something like "My (Jesus is speaking) grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." I am definitely weak!! I can totally relate to a need for strength beyond myself.

The amazing thing is, as I've poured out my frustration and desperation, Jesus is giving me what I need! He is helping me keep all the plates spinning; none have crashed to the ground yet. I've almost crashed a few times, and a few of the plates have wobbled dangerously but everything is still spinning. I won't know until I die (or my children are grown, which ever comes first) if I succeed at what I'm attempting. Right now, though, I have hope that God will keep His promise and finish what He started.

experiencial knowledge

2009-08-22T14:35:00.000-07:00

Years ago I heard a sermon about "experiential knowledge." I'll spare you my butchered attempt at the Greek word, but know that a Greek word for experiential knowledge does exist. And, the word draws emphasis to the experience part of knowing as opposed to knowing something because you read about it or took a class on it or watched a movie about it.

That differentiation of knowledge has stuck with me, though I do not remember the passage it was based on. Recently, God gave me a powerful reminder of the truth I'd been exposed to so long ago.

As a mom, I've cared for many kids who were stung by a bee. As a former child, I had compassion because I'd been stung by a bee. But, I'd forgotten just how painful a bee sting could be. Then, I gained a new level of experiential knowledge; I got stung by a bee! As the pain radiated from the sting on my hand up my arm past my elbow, and as the pain continued to increase with each passing second, I gained a whole new appreciation for the agony my children experience when they are stung.

Then, I began to think about some of the things God has been showing me this summer. Though I've always known I am a sinner and imperfect, I expect a level of perfection I know is not possible. When I fail, I am very disappointed. Recently, I lost my camera AND my cell phone. The two items were worth hundreds of dollars, and I couldn't afford to replace them. Worse still, I was trying so hard to be diligent and careful, yet I'd failed. Heading into a worship time, my heart was surrounded by a wall of my own making and the joy that I usually experienced was notably absent. As I poured my heart out to God, explaining my disappointment in myself, it struck me; God KNEW I would fail. That was why He sent Jesus. It isn't just because I am a sinner and sin seperates me from God, but because I'm a sinner and even my best efforts are woefully inadequate.

I'm still wrestling with what all this means; I'm still very much struggling with my humanity and tendancy towards failure. But, in the midst of it, I am gently reminded that Jesus died for my failures. Jesus died for my successes. Jesus knew before He died for me that I would be damaged goods and that nothing I ever do will be enough to pay the penalty for my sin. And He doesn't care. He accepts me anyway. He always will.

Regression, or why some species eat their young

2009-08-11T22:08:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every child's life when his or her parent suddenly realizes something; there is a reason some species eat their young. I had such an epiphany, with my young son. He knows how to use a toilet. He did so successfully for several weeks. Then, abruptly, he forgot.

Each day, as I find puddles of potty on the floor, throw yet another pair of wet pants down the laundry shoot, or start a load of smelly clothes in the washer, I contemplate those critters who eat their young and know there must be a good reason.

We are actually on our third round of "regression." Two other times, my son has successfully kept pants dry for days, even weeks at a time. Then, for no obvious reason, he suddenly is wetting his pants several times a day. I have given up trying to be creative. We have extra pull-ups and pants in each car and the diaper bag. He already has his toy for getting off the potty train, so can't do that again. Don't know what I'll do, but eating my son is definitely out of the question.

In a recent conversation with a dear friend, we agreed the difference between something being tragic or funny is about 6 hours of sleep. Maybe this can all be funny if I just get a really good night's sleep.

Babysitting Blues

2009-07-27T09:57:00.000-07:00

Having been a mom for more than 13 years, part of my life experience has been hiring babysitters. Recently, I've been able to leave my little ones with one of my older girls, making life much easier. But, while at a recent conference, I didn't have that luxury. So we found a young lady who was willing to stay with our two-year old son.

The first evening of the conference, after having most of two days to recover from his traumatic experience with the thunder storm, we planned to leave our son with the babysitter. The transition was a little rough, and as we walked away I learned my husband had failed to leave either of our cell phone numbers with the babysitter. But, we'd never had any trouble, so we were optimistic things would be fine.

Things were not fine. About halfway through the evening, our son turned into a terror! Disappointed in not getting his way about some trivial thing, my son threw a fit. If only one thing had happened, it wouldn't have been too bad; I'd have been embarrassed and irritated, but it wouldn't have been so bad. But instead of one thing, almost everything went wrong. Our little boy, who is usually pretty well behaved, hit, spit on, and bit the babysitter! And, she couldn't call us because she didn't have our numbers. Maybe our son has an evil twin and that little monster was the one who traumatized the babysitter.

The babysitter is not going to press charges, the bites didn't scare, nor is she planning to bill us for any therapy that may be required as a result of her traumatic experience!

Now, instead of leaving my son with a babysitter and attending the meetings I traveled across four states to attend, I'm in our apartment, writing this post and listening to the conference online! But, my son hasn't used his teeth, mouth, or hands to do anything other than what good little boys are supposed to do. Actually, this is working better. My baby girl is asleep in her bassinet, my son is playing and being a little boy, dinner is in the crock pot, and I had time to publish this post. Maybe some day we'll look back on this little experience and laugh. One thing for sure; I'm always going to make sure anyone brave enough to stay with our son has a phone number with which to reach us! I don't know if we'll find anyone brave enough to stay with him, but if we do, I'm going to make sure they can call if his evil twin shows up again.

Travel Travails

2009-07-26T10:04:00.000-07:00

Every couple of years, I head to Colorado for a conference. This year, to save money (and my sanity), I decided to leave five of my seven children at home. You'd think it would be easier to travel with only two children; you know, only two kids to get through security, only two kids to buckle into seats, only two kids to keep entertained and to keep track of during layovers. Well, I guess I picked the wrong two!

Having flown several times, I knew the whole security drill. At least I thought I did. You know, can't take anything that contains more than three ounces (including new tubes of toothpaste) everything has to fit into quart-sized zipper bags, and you can't take anything that might be used as a weapon; no crochet hooks, scissors, Texas toothpicks, or Bowie knives. I made sure we didn't need to worry about the zipper bags; everything like that was packed in the checked luggage. Flying with young children (a five month old and a two-year old), I had a bottle (it was empty), a sippee cup (it was also empty) and my drinking cup (also empty), two car seats, a diaper bag for the baby (but no diaper oinment - it was too big), my purse, and a backpack with some toys and snacks for my two-year old. But, it didn't take too long to get everything unpacked and ready for scanning.

Having thought ahead, both my son and I were in flip-flops (the baby was barefoot), so we could easily remove our shoes. What I didn't think about was what the all-metal Hot Wheels car would look like going through the scanner. Let's just say it didn't look good and required multiple trips through the scanner before finally being removed from the backpack and thoroughly examined. Maybe the TSA guys just needed to reconnect with their childhood. At least they gave the car back.

Air travel was only the first leg of the journey. The second leg began as, after about an hour's wait, we greatfully boarded a bus that would deliver us to our final destination. The huge bus windows provided a beautiful view of a thunder storm. It was awe-inspiring as we watched lightening illuminate the countryside. Funny thing about that thunder storm; it brought hail. The hail actually cracked the windshield of the bus. It also brought rain; lots of rain!

Funny thing about taking that bus; it didn't deliver us to the door of our apartment. It delivered us to a "transfer station." We had to leave the bus, in the middle of the downpour! Never having experienced such rain, my son was actually very frightened. I ran him to the van that would take us to our apartment and threw him in. His carseat filled with water in the few minutes it required to move it from one vehicle to the other! The baby made it without getting too wet; the sun shade on her car seat actually worked pretty well as an umbrella. And, of course, by the time we actually reached our apartment, the rain was over! We'd gotten thoroughly soaked - even clothes IN the suitcases got wet! I was completely soaked - it was like I'd just stepped out of the shower, seriously!

By God's grace, we made it to our final destination all in one piece. The wet clothes dried, my son survived his experience, and I'm enjoying my conference very much. If our two-year old remembers his traumatic rain experience when he is older, we can pay for his therapy. Best of all, I have a few more days to recover before we do the whole thing in reverse.

Easter Memories

2009-04-12T21:17:00.000-07:00

Holidays are supposed to be memorable. Families gather, special foods are served, and precious memories are made. Easter is especially fun because it holds the promise of spring and we celebrate a risen Savior. It is a favorite time of year for us. This Easter has been very memorable, but for far different reasons.

First, my son found himself connecting with nature in a rather painful and traumatic way; he stepped (with his bare foot) on a thorn that was hidden in the grass where he was hunting for Easter eggs. After he'd finally calmed down from connecting with and being disconnected from the thorn, he somehow got a piece of Easter candy up his nose; way up his nose. The candy is still there, but the on-call doctor assured me, as long as my son was breathing ok (which he is) we could wait until morning to have it removed.

Before the evening was over, the baby blew out her diaper, a kid had put a foot into the leftover jello sitting on the floor of the van, the sound of tears filled the van part of the way home, and someone wet their pants before exiting our vehicle. Though memorable, none of these were the memories I planned to make this holiday, or at any other time, for that matter.

Now, everyone is in bed. The house is finally quiet. The jello has been cleaned up, the injured foot is bandaged, the wet pants changed and the car seat taken care of. The candy, however, is still firmly lodged in a certain toddler's nose. I'm enjoying a moment of peace before I fall into bed. Tomorrow, if my son still can't breath through his left nostril, I'll take him to the family doctor to see about getting the piece of candy removed. School may be a field trip to the hospital, where we'll learn all about the consequences of sticking foreign objects up your nose.

A comedian said that the difference between tears and laughter in a situation like this is about six weeks. So, I guess you can check back with me in a few weeks to see if I think it is funny yet or not. Either way, it will still be memorable!

A Day in the Life

2009-03-31T22:39:00.001-07:00

Life at our house is never boring!! How can it be with two cats, a dog, and seven children?! Lately, though, a whole new dimension has been added. I don't know it is because my husband has been traveling more, or because of how old my children are, or if it is because of how old I am and how much slower my response time is. Whatever the reason, life has been full of surprises, and not necessarily the kind I enjoy.

Take the other day. Things went fairly well for most of the day. We had the usual accidents by a potty-training toddler, squabbles and such between pre-adolescent girls, the dog trying to exert dominance over the cats and the cats reminding him who is really in charge. Somewhere in there, several eggs were dropped on the floor and not cleaned up enough to prevent someone (Mom) from slipping. Then, dinner didn't quite go as planned, and we were eating much later than expected. While we were cleaning up dinner, the mason jar of homemade vinegarrette broke. You guessed it, the oily, smelly mess went all over the floor.

When mason jars break, they leave shards of glass everywhere. Sure enough, we found glass everywhere. In the end, I had to throw away the towels we soaked up the oil with - the thought of trying to find and then dispose of all the glass was much too overwhelming. I can buy more towels!

After cleaning up the floor, it was past time to get kids in bed. By the time kids were in bed, it was past time to get Mom in bed! So, the rest of the evening was fairly uneventful. The next morning I woke up without a toddler wetting the bed, no jars of anything broke during breakfast, and I think it was dinner before a cup was spilled. Having so thoroughly cleaned the kitchen, I can now say spring cleaning is definitely well underway. Only a few more weeks before it might actually be spring so kids can play outside, and I can regain a sembelance of order and inner peace.

The Joy of being TV Free

2009-03-28T19:41:00.000-07:00

My family has been "TV free" since we became a family. Even before children came into the picture, we decided the only thing we'd watch on television was an occasional movie. When kids came along, that was amended (at the recommendation of a mentor) to allow for one movie a day.

Now, generally speaking, our children watch a movie while they fold laundry in the afternoon. Rarely, they will be allowed to watch both a "just-for-fun" movie AND an educational movie (educational movies are determined by Mom) in the same day. But, that happens VERY rarely. Their average time in front of the television is 60 minutes a day; much lower than the national average of between four and six hours, not including computer games.

Because we haven't ever made it a habit to watch television, we have developed the habit of finding other things to do. A recent weekend is a perfect example. After dinner was finished, around 7pm, you could find the various members of my family engaged in various activities. My oldest daughter was working at the computer on a school-related project. My second oldest daughter was on the floor beside my youngest daughter, getting some "face time." The third girl was washing dishes (her chore for that week), the fourth daughter was calling a friend, and the last two were playing with Daddy in the living room. Over the course of the evening, books were read, games were played, jobs were completed, we even made cookies. All that before kids were tucked in and lights turned out at 9pm.

Our family is far from perfect, and we've fudged on the tv time occasionally, but for the most part, a typical day includes FAR less than four hours in front of the gray babysitter. Instead, we spend time together as a family, making memories and having fun. That is why I enjoy being tv free.

Never too late

2009-03-04T23:23:00.000-08:00

I've been doing this parenting thing for a long time - more than 13 years. In that time, I've learned much about myself, like how little I know about parenting, how very selfish I can be (and have been), how amazing my mother was to put up with a child like me, and how very much it requires to be a parent.

I've also gained a valuable perspective on life. As a child, if I wasn't good at something, generally I quit. If what I was trying didn't come easily to me, then I found something that did. The steepness of the learning curve greatly affected my desire and willingness to learn. In retrospect, I missed out on quite a bit because of my poor attitude.

I felt like if I couldn't do something well right away, then I should leave it to people who could. I didn't understand that I could ask questions, or that others had spent time feeling just like I felt; like a failure.

As a parent, quitting isn't an option. Instead of simply walking away and finding an activity that was easier, I've had to persevere and push through the challenges. In doing so, I've learned a most valuable lesson; life doesn't stay hard. After making LOTS of mistakes, I began to learn how to not make those mistakes anymore. At some point the learning curve lost some of its steepness. I learned. Then I began to realize that life is that way. You make mistakes and you learn from those mistakes. Somewhere along the way, the learning curve levels out until you get to the point where you've learned!

Now I'm enjoying the freedom of knowing that I can make mistakes without the world coming to an end. I can learn to do what it is I need, or want, to do. To quote a very dear lady, it is never too late.

The problem with dinner in the freezer

2009-03-04T23:05:00.000-08:00

I recently delivered baby number seven. With so much practice, I was finally able to accomplish my lofty goal of getting some meals made ahead of time.

In anticipation of needing dinner when I had better things to do, I dutifully laid out the recipes, purchased the supplies, and had a power-cooking marathon with my very wonderful and very helpful older daughters. Long before the baby arrived, my freezer was filled with tasty casseroles and pre-made lunch treats just waiting to be pulled out and served to hungry children.

There is, however, a caveat to this success story.

To be successful serving dinner when it is in the freezer, you must take it out of the freezer before mealtime. More than once, when it's been time to put dinner in the oven, I've realized that dinner is still in the freezer. Hungry children don't enjoy eating frozen food that is designed to be eaten hot. You can pull said dinner out of the freezer and soak it in hot water in a vain attempt to get it thawed in time to actually serve it before breakfast. Or, you can simply pop it in the oven in hopes that perhaps it will defy the laws of Murphy and get hot all the way through. Unfortunately, neither option is very successful. I know. I've tried. Maybe next time I'll leave dinner in the freezer and serve breakfast instead!

Quick secrets for going gray

2009-02-05T21:59:00.001-08:00

As a mother of many between the ages of 2 weeks and 13 years, I have lots of experience with the adventures of parenting. Until recently, though, I had very little gray hair. Unfortunately, I don't have any secrets to share about why my hair wasn't gray because I don't know why it wasn't. But, do notice the tense on the verb in the last sentence, "wasn't." The reason for the past tense is that recently, I've noticed several gray hairs. Other people, including my children, have noticed as well. And, I'm going to let you in on the little secret for why those gray hairs are cropping up all of a sudden.

Doctors may have more scientific methods of solving problems, but I'm convinced; the reason for my gray hair is allowing my oldest daughter to buy gerbils. If it was only having gerbils in our house, it probably wouldn't be too big a deal and it wouldn't be causing me too much stress. But, in addition to my thirteen year old daughter, who is very responsible and completely capable of caring for gerbils, I have a two-year old boy. He really likes gerbils.

Something I've learned about two-year old boys; they are not very gentle. Actually, they don't even know what the word "gentle" means. I'm not sure their brains are capable of understanding it! What I do know is that two-year old boys can be very hazardous to the health of small, cute, fragile gerbils. Thanks to the diligence of my oldest daughter, nothing has happened to the gerbils she worked so hard to get. We've taken extra precautions to make sure the youngest male in our house doesn't have unsupervised visits with the gerbils, including multiple locks on his sister's door. Unfortunately, those actions were not taken early enough to protect my hair color; I've started going gray!

The Bible says that gray hair is noble, an indication of honor and character, and in many ways a good thing to have. It is a new experience for me, and I'm not above turning the clock back with a little help from a box. But, if you are looking to have that sophisticated mature appearance so highly spoken of in Proverbs, one quick way to get it is to have a two-year old boy and a gerbil in the same house.

Unexpected costs of a large family

2008-12-04T14:28:00.000-08:00

As the mother of six, I understand very well that large families are expensive. It costs more to feed them, to clothe them, and to get into a theater or zoo. We have to drive a bigger car with enough seats for everyone, so we have to spend more on gas. And, a large family requires more time, for everything from eating breakfast to getting the laundry done.

Because of the size of our family and our donation-based income, we are very careful with finances. It is a good thing right now, because we're not feeling the economic crunch too much. We never go out to eat, so we can't really cut back on that. We don't travel during the holidays (and our family is all in town), and have been watching mileage for years, so we can't really cut back on driving. We don't spend much money on various forms of entertainment (the last movie my family went to see was "Prince Caspian" and it was the only movie we went to last year), so we can't really cut back on that. The only domestic help I have is what my children give me. They are VERY helpful, but at this point they are still in "training" and I can afford to invest the time to train them.

Over all, we do pretty well managing finances, especially considering our large family. One area, though, no one warned me to watch out for, and that is postage. When you have a large family, especially one with lots of girls, you tend to have lots of relationships. Now, don't get me wrong; I want my children to have friends. And, since we've moved recently, my girls all want to stay in touch with the friends they left behind.

It isn't quite the same to send or receive e-mail, as convenient as it may be. Nothing compares to the thrill of opening the mailbox and finding a personal letter with your name on it. So, my girls all like to write letters. And, those letters require stamps. When you multiply 43 cents by five girls who average up to a letter a week, it adds up quickly! Instead of planning ahead for college, we have to figure out creative ways to fund the "mail habit" so we can continue to pay for postage.

Budget Breakthrough

2008-09-27T21:00:00.001-07:00

My husband and I serve with a non-profit organization in the US. Our paychecks come from donations and because we would much rather help people understand how they can know God personally than anything else, finances are usually tight. We've budgeted for years, operating on an envelope system (when the envelope is empty, you can't spend anymore) and paying cash for whatever we buy, including cars, doing without what most Americans consider necessities. It hasn't been too bad; we live very simply and are mostly content with the simplicity.

I must be honest, I do get frustrated with having to always be so careful with every penny, especially when it doesn't seem to make any difference at all. We've been married for 14 years and on staff with the non-profit organization for most of that time, so finances have been tight for a long time. I've learned lots about being frugal, and how important quality is to successfully practicing a frugal lifestyle. I've learned the value of a dollar; a lesson I did not learn at home or when working as an RN in the hospital. The lessons are good, but it doesn't seem to matter what I've learned, we never get ahead.

This week, though, I've been greatly encouraged with the benefits of our budgeting. We're buying a house! It is a fixer-upper that lacks all major appliances except a vintage 1951 stove. The carpets are going to be ripped out as soon as we get keys. So, I went shopping (not a favorite past time) to find a refridgerator, a dishwasher and new flooring. At the end of the day, I'd spent more money than I usually spend in three months but scored fantastic deals that will bless our family every time we use them and will add value to the home when we get ready to sell. Knowing that our previous frugality made it possible to make those purchases helped me see; being careful WAS paying off! We're getting ready to move into a house that we'd never be able to buy if we hadn't budgeted for so long. It is exciting, and as I walk through the door, I'll be reminded of the value of budgeting.

The Secret to Success

2008-06-13T22:12:00.000-07:00

I have figured out the secret to my success as a domestic engineer/family manager/mom and wife. Admittedly, some people will question whether I'm being successful (and I'm often one of those people) but I had an epiphany that just had to be shared. This may not make sense at first, but hang in there with me because (I hope) it will.

We've all heard that failure is the key to success. Successful people fail, sometimes many times and miserably. But, what makes them successful is that they don't give up. Successful people don't discount themselves as failures because they make a mistake. They simply try again. The old adage, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again" seems to characterize most successful people. Thomas Edison, not to belabor the point too much, is reported to have said (in response to how he felt about failing so many times before fining something that worked for the light bulb), "I didn't fail, I simply discovered (however many different ways) that didn't work." You might say, as I have before, that it is a matter of perspective.

Well, tonight, as I was getting ready to tumble into bed, I noticed clothes on my clothes line. Since it was after dark and I was already in pajamas, I decided it was too late to worry about it and we'd take care of it in the morning. Then I started thinking of all the ways I fail as a mom. I could list them for you, but it would get boring quickly. Anyway, I realized that the reason I keep trying at this task set before me is that I recognize that I'm a failure, in MANY ways. Again, I could list them, but you would probably be thinking of your own list anyway. If you want to get right down to it, all of us fail; the Bible says so and I don't anyone really disagrees.

Isn't great that entrance into Heaven is not dependent on our perfection? I'm especially grateful, since I'm so VERY far from being perfect! Psalm 103:8, one of my favorite verses, says "The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love." His patience, graciousness and compassion make it possible for me to keep failing without giving up. Later in the same Psalm it says that God knows how weak we are (He should since He created us). He has made provision for our weakness through His Son, Jesus Christ. That is the reason that I can be "successful," at least as far as not giving up on being a mom. My precious Savior, Jesus, loves me in spite of my failings (of which there are MANY), He accepts me and gives me what it takes to put one foot after the other, even on days when my laundry still hangs on the line as I get into bed.

After baby bodies

2008-06-10T21:08:00.000-07:00

As the mother of six children, I know a little about how babies change bodies. Parts of me will never be the same again! So, it was not with a little interest that I noticed a story on mothers having plastic surgery to regain their pre-baby bodies. Part of me was curious; just what could be done? Part of me, though, was sad, and a little frustrated with plastic surgeons.

The part of me that was curious got pretty obvious answers pretty quickly; surgeons can augment things that have shrunk and shrink things that have gotten bigger, suck out fat from places no self-respecting woman wants fat and put it back where any self-respecting woman knows it goes.
I didn't get any hints as to a dollar amount such surgery must translate into, but you know it has to be expensive and I'm pretty sure insurance won't pay for it. The dollar amount is also the reason I'm a little frustrated with plastic surgeons. We already have enough problems with airbrushed supermodels setting an impossible standard; we don't need rich surgeons getting richer from our artifically induced insecurities!

The part of me that was sad, though, was sad because of what this new trend says about our culture and how much (or little) we truly value moms. I've had six children, and like I said, parts of me will never be the same. My 5' almost 11" frame won't see the inside of my size 10 wedding dress ever again. I probably won't see the inside of a size 10 period. My hips and my feet both are much wider than they used to be, and no plastic surgeon is going to be able to help that.

Parts of me are much smaller than before I had children. Other parts have folds that haven't gone away in spite of regular daily sit ups. Yet, my husband tells me how beautiful he thinks I am and how much he enjoys the parts that are smaller and the parts that aren't. I've never felt insecure or ugly because of what happened to my body as a result of becoming a mom. Indeed, I consider it a tremendous privilege and know many women who would give almost anything to see what their post-baby body would look like because they can't have children.

Perhaps we need a gentle reminder that life brings change. For any of us who live into old age, gravity will not be thwarted; we will have parts that sag and bag, with or without plastic surgery. We can do some things to help, to be sure, but nothing can stop the march of time. And perhaps such a goal is misdirected. The hand who rocks the cradle, it is said, is the hand who rules the world. Mothers of all sizes rock cradles holding future presidents, priests and kings. Women who mother children are beautiful, not because of what size they wear or how quickly they fit back into their pre-pregnancy clothes, but because of WHO they are and WHAT they are doing!! Perhaps the best thing we can do for post-baby body blues is not to turn to plastic surgeons, but to re-evaluate what we see as beautiful and to remember what a gift being a mother really is.

The Adventure Continues (or, Parenting is Never Dull)

2008-05-24T20:17:00.000-07:00

The children and I were at a restaurant recently, for lunch; without my husband. Now, if you have children, you know why parents don't take children out to eat very often (especially at "real" restaurants, as opposed to McDonald's or Wendy's) and you can imagine the scene that played out before me. But, it was a special occasion and I was not going to be deterred from my appointed task

After we'd ordered, I herded everyone to a table. Of course, children had to wrestle over who would sit where and someone was unhappy, though not too loudly. My son fell off the bench he was sitting on, but wasn't injured seriously enough to keep him from climbing back into his seat for food. Then, a glass of water (only filled half way) was spilled. By now the other patrons in the restaurant are looking at me with raised eyebrows, undoubtedly wondering what psychotic maniac actually takes seven children 12 and under (we were borrowing one for the day) to a restaurant, alone. When the food was delivered, it took several minutes to dish out to everyone what they needed, only to hear "I don't like that," or "I wanted the other one." In the midst of dealing with dishing out food and filling cups and getting replacement silverware for kids who dropped theirs, life got really interesting. My son threw up.

I can only imagine that he ate something that didn't quite agree with his taste buds, who engaged in an all-out assault and refused to allow the offending food to proceed further. What the problem was, I have no idea. All I know is that one minute he was eating and the next he was puking on the table.

Having grabbed a small mountain of napkins, I quickly cleaned up the rejected food and disposed of it before anyone else noticed. Caleb, having dealt with the problem, proceeded to eat the rest of what was on his tray, with hardly a moment's hesitation. Whatever the problem was, it didn't affect his appetite in any noticeable way. And, none of the girls noticed anything, for which I can only be humbly thankful! The meal was finished without further incident. In all, it was a definite success, even if we might not be welcome back to that restaurant. We don't go out to eat often, it will be ok.

The Real Estate Gauntlet

2008-05-15T06:01:00.000-07:00

Our house is for sale. Unfortunately for us, it isn't a great time to sell a house. Even so, our house is "on the market." If you've ever sold a house, you know the drill; the house has to be magazine photo shoot perfect all the time. Do you know how impossible that is with six children?

Because not many people are buying homes right now, we haven't had too many people looking. On average, about once a week a realtor calls about bringing someone through. Well, that leaves at least six days where people AREN'T walking through. That means that we have at least six days of being lax about cleaning the house and a few hours of mad, frantic cleaning to get it ready to be looked at. It also means everytime the phone rings, I hold my breath until the voice on the other line says something besides, "Hello, my name is Lilly with Big House Realty Co. I have a client that wants to look at your house."

When the voice on the other line says anything about realty companies or house showings, we go into alert. As soon as I find out the deadline, we start the drill. Initially, we're intent but not hurried. As time goes by, though, we get more and more frantic until at last, with only minutes to spare, I'm barking out orders:

"Put all that stuff in that laundry basket!
"Wait, where is the basket? OH NO! It's full? Well, get another basket.

"Take that stuff to the car. No, the other car. It won't fit in that car. Take it to the other car.

"No, you can't hide anything in the shower, they can see the shower. No, don't put it in the oven, either. Someone will look in the oven. Yes, you can hide those piles in the dryer; we're not selling the dryer!

Don't forget to light the candle. And the other candle. Did anyone shut the upstairs window?"

Then, we run to the car and drive away, sometimes with laundry baskets in hand and sometimes with bags because we've run out of baskets. The realtor and client(s) walk through the house and leave. We've spent hours getting ready so they can look at our house for a few minutes. Then, we have to undo all the "cleaning" we've just done and put everything away. Of course, not everything gets put away. Then someone is saying, "Mom, do you know where my maggot collection is?" My reply, "Of course, dear. Check the back of the car. Oh no. Not that car. The other car. It should be in the third basket on the left, under the power bill and the letter from the attorney about Aunt Mable's will."

Perspective is Everything, part III

2008-05-06T21:30:00.001-07:00

Food is expensive right now. Yesterday I paid almost $3 a pound for "cheap" hamburger! Rice is rationed at Wal-Mart and Costco. The grain I buy is getting more expensive almost daily. Now, we don't have much money by American standards. Our children don't go to ballet, play soccer or take piano lessons. I feed my family of eight on about $100 a week. Though we live pretty comfortably, I'm feeling the pinch of increased prices. I thought I had something to complain about. Reading an article in World Magazine (www.worldmag.com) gave me some much needed perspective.

We can grouse about paying through the nose for gas and the high cost of food. But, we can complain. That is a gift. It may hurt to fill the gas tank and maybe you are thinking about not driving as much; we're not driving as much. Still, most of us can buy gas and food; we just can't buy as much. For people in many other parts of the world, though, there are no cars to buy gas for and buying food isn't an option right now; there is no food to buy.

We are complaining about the price of food and the insanity that seems to rule the gas tank, whining about what we have to pay to fill our stomachs or our cars. Maybe some of us have to choose between filling one or the other. But, aren't you glad you have the choice?!

Though we are definitely feeling the pinch of rising prices, my children have enough to eat. I don't have to listen to their cries, see their bloated bellies or put them to bed hungry. Really, what more can a mother ask for?

Abundance

2008-04-25T08:20:00.001-07:00

Since I remember my father's 20-year high school reunion, it doesn't seem possible mine is coming up this summer. I can't be that old! Well, maybe I am, but I certainly don't feel old. I feel like I'm in my prime, with all the little things that make life grand.
In high school, I was a dork! It didn't take a rocket scientist to recognize that I was anything but cool. Actually, I was pretty shy and insecure. Thus, I didn't get to know many of my classmates very well. If they even remember me, I'd be surprised. I survived high school, then went on to get a life and make lots of friends. Somewhere along the way, I quit being a dork (for the most part) and haven't thought much about high school at all.

That is why it was rather shocking to feel insecure and insignificant again as I looked through photos of classmates (most of whom I don't remember), seeing their beautiful homes, boats and families. The world will say these people are successful; they are at the top of the ladder; they have it all. But, do they? Are they content with where they are? Do they have joy? And, do they know what will happen to them when they die? I can't answer those questions for anyone else, but I can answer them for me!

According to the world's standards, we don't have much. We drive a seven year old car that we bought used and were barely able to scrape cash together to buy. We live in a small house where four children share one bedroom and we have one full bathroom, that all eight of us share. I feed my family on about $400 a month, and I clothe my children at thrift stores instead of department stores. We will not be taking a vacation to any exotic locations this summer; we probably won't take a vacation this summer. We don't go golfing in the summer or skiing in the winter. Instead, I have a home filled with the laughter of children. When I go to bed at night, I sleep next to my best friend. We are surrounded, not by the oppulance of this world, but by the abundance of God's provision. And, when I die I am going to Heaven to be with Jesus forever. What more could I want?

Safe in the Father's Arms

2008-04-22T22:34:00.001-07:00

Car travel with six children is not for the faint of heart, especially when the oldest is only 12. But, living where we do, extended car travel is kind of necessary; we don't have Costco, Wal-Mart or any real department stores, nor do we have the facilities to host a large convention like we attended last weekend.

To get anywhere from where we live, you must cross mountain passes. At this time of year, usually that isn't a big deal, but last weekend, when we went to a homeschool convention on the west side of Washington, it became a very big deal.

Attending the homeschool convention was really our first major adventure in our new van. It actually went quite smoothly, with everyone fitting comfortably into their respective seats. Much to the delight of my girls, a friend joined us for the adventure. We enjoyed the drive over, though it was snowing as we crossed the pass. Snow even fell in Redmond, covering spring flowers with decidedly winter white. The convention was a very encouraging event, but because of plans the following day (and no hotel accommodations) we headed home. And, because of the snow, we headed home a little earlier than we might have otherwise.

As we headed home in the late evening, first one and then another child drifted off to sleep. The sounds of their deep, regular breathing filled the van. Inside, everything was peaceful and quiet. Outside, however, conditions were very different. Heavy snow was falling quickly, and the gray piles of old snow that we'd seen on our way westward were blanketed in white. In places the road was barely visible through the slush and snow. Though the pass wasn't closed, traffic was moving slowly. To say the least, it was a scary ride. My children, however, were not afraid. They were able to rest comfortably and peacefully, taking no concern for their safety, because their father was taking care of them.

I realized, as I sat white knuckled next to my husband, who was also white knuckled, that God was giving me a picture of Himself. I can go through life resting comfortably and peacefully, because my Father is taking care of me. I don't need to be anxious for any of the myriad of things I can be anxious about (can you relate?) because my Father has everything completely under control. Now, sometimes it doesn't FEEL like God has everything under control. Sometimes it feels like life is spinning hopelessly OUT of control. But, if I'm really willing to trust, I can rest safe in the Father's arms, just as my children did in the car last weekend.

If you don't know who I'm referring to when I write "Father," or if you wonder how I can have such an intimate, personal relationship with God, please let me know. I'd love to explain it to you. I have found a joy and peace so incredible that I take great delight in sharing with others how they too can have what I have. You can rest safe in your Father's arms, if you know Him as Father. It is a wonderful thing.

Perspective is Everything, part II

2008-04-10T13:00:00.000-07:00

We have driven a 1993 Chevy Suburban for the last seven years. It was donated to our family in 2002, back when we had four children. It served us well as we drove down to and back from Orlando, Florida, up to and back from Anchorage, Alaska, and all points in between. The Suburban now has almost 300,000 miles on the engine, and with the addition of two children, every seat is filled. We needed a new car.

Late this past winter, when we thought we were going to need another seat in the Suburban, we decided to look for a 12 passenger van. The Lord provided a 2001 Chevy Express with less than 60,000 miles on it, for a very VERY good price. Though it was located in Marquette, Michigan, we found a couple who drove it to Spokane, WA for less than it would have cost to fly out and get it ourselves. Easter Sunday, after celebrating the resurrection of Jesus and enjoying lunch with some dear friends, we headed to Spokane to pick up our new van.

Just over an hour into our journey, we suddenly lost cruise control. After trying, unsuccessfully, to restart the engine, my husband was able to coast our powerless vehicle to the side of the road. And, there we sat, for over two hours, with six children packed into a small enclosed space. It was definitely a recipe for disaster. Then things got worse.

After more than 90 minutes sitting stranded on the roadside, Mom started to get pretty frustrated. It was obvious we needed help! Still, car after car drove by without so much as slowing down. As I became more and more irritated, my tone with the children changed. I became short; snappy; sharp. Just as I was really starting to feel anger towards the heartless motorists who seemed oblivious to the drama playing out in my back seat, one of my daughters uttered a phrase that gave me a whole new perspective. Her words; The Lord is Risen.

Now, if you don't go to church all that often, you may not realize that the appropriate response is, "He is Risen Indeed." It is a greeting I've taught my children because of my great love for Easter, when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. We'd been saying it to each other with great joy just hours ago. The night before, I'd been so excited as I thought about the precious truth that because Jesus died on the cross for my sins I didn't have to and could go to Heaven to be with Him that I couldn't sleep! It was just the ticket to give me some much needed perspective.

Even though cars were still flying by at more than 70 miles an hour, even though we were still all sitting in a small space, with children filling every passenger seat (and their stuff filling everywhere else), and even though we had no idea what was wrong with our car, how much it would cost to fix it, or how long we'd be stuck on the side of the road, Jesus was alive and we could look forward to Heaven! Perspective was everything.

You know, my children actually remember the time fondly! We ate Easter candy, played some crazy games and I read aloud from a favorite book. Finally, when it became obvious that the car was going to need professional attention, my husband called a tow-truck and we got a ride back to the closest town. The tow truck driver dropped us off at a restaurant close to the Chevy dealership, where ALL SIX of our children ATE FOR FREE. God was taking care of all the details, and Jesus was alive again. Little else mattered.

We're home now. Our Suburban is fixed (it was the ignition module; who would have thought your ignition was so important?!) and our van runs beautifully. We took 9 kids to a church function the other day, and still had room for more. It was a huge blessing. But, more than the van, I'm thankful for the perspective I gained that night. Life is hard. Even Jesus said so. But it is ok. Jesus said in John 16:33 "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." Knowing that, I can face almost anything.

Perspective is EVERYTHING

2008-02-20T22:37:00.000-08:00

Recently someone made the comment to me that health is everything. Though health is VERY important, I really don't think I agree.

Health can easily be taken for granted. I do, often. Unless I am sick or something that normally works a certain way all of a sudden isn't working, I don't really think about being healthy. You could easily say I don't appreciate it. Perspective is what makes me apprecaite my health; perspective that I usually get when I'm not healthy.

Recently, I've had multiple opportunities to get perspective. If I've learned anything, it is how very much perspective impacts attitude. I think it makes all the difference in the world. I've been pregnant 11 times, but I don't have 11 children; I only have six. Five different times the hearts of little blessings I'll never hold stopped beating only weeks after they'd begun. It is a painful thing, and because I believe life begins at conception, I've grieved five times. Recently, though, God gave me a dose of perspective. I've been pregnant 11 times! I have six healthy children. How many women have never been able to get pregnant?! How many women dreamed of having a family, only to have their hopes dashed on the hard rocks of infertility? Though I get tired, there is always month left at the end of the money, and raising six children is a HUGE amount of work, it is good to be reminded just how blessed I am. I have what some women can only dream about.

Sometimes I dream about a bigger house. A house where only two children have to share a room, instead of four; where lines can form outside two (or more) bathrooms and where we actually fit into the dining room even if we have guests. I'd love a house big enough to have a guest room and a place dedicated to homeschooling. Oh, and I'd absolutely love a big gourmet kitchen with enough space for all my daughters to cook with me comfortably. It would be wonderful. But, I've been looking at bigger houses and I've gotten a huge dose of perspective. First, I love where we live. I love the park we have in the back yard, with mature fruit trees and lots of room to run. I love being in a rural area with most of the conveniences of a more urban neighborhood. So we don't have Costco or Wal-Mart. I don't really care! All of a sudden, where I live seems like a castle.

After spending a good deal of time thinking about the conversation with my friend and my experiences of the last several weeks, I've come to a conclusion. Health isn't everything. You can have it and not appreciate it, and it will go away. Money is the same way. Honestly, almost everything in life is fleeting. What is really worthwhile is terribly undervalued. Perspective, on the other hand, is what helps determine value. No, health isn't everything. Perspective is.

A new definition for faith

2008-02-11T17:06:00.000-08:00

I have been, for the past several months, learning more about sacrifice than I ever dreamed possible. The lessons have not been, thankfully, terribly painful. More it has been a constant chipping away that over time has stripped away much that I believed to be true. As a child, I had my life planned out; I was going to be a missionary nurse, living my days out in some foreign hospital, tending physical and spiritual wounds of the people whose country I'd adopted. Knowing my call, I gladly committed to go wherever God wanted me to go and to do whatever God wanted me to do.

Unfortunately, it has taken me the better part of two decades to figure out where God was calling me to go and what He was calling me to do. Instead of being called to go to the uttermost, as I expected, and instead of being called to serve as a nurse, as I expected, I've been called to be the homeschooling mother of many. In some ways, it is a much more difficult task. Without question, it is one that showcases my weaknesses.

Being a homeschooling mother of many, and educating four different children in four different grades this year, I see my weaknesses more clearly than ever before. As I've wrestled with accepting God's call to live in the US and be a mother to many, I've been learning all over again what it means to live by faith. The process has been, at times, painful, but mostly God has been gentle and gracious.

Recently I heard someone say that faith is choosing to live as though God's word is true regardless of my circumstances, emotions, or cultural trends. In embracing my new call, I've had many opportunities to put this new definition to the test. Actually, I flat out told God I needed help, and something a little more specific than the whole Bible - it is rather broad. And, God answered my prayer. He has given me specific passages.

Lately, the passages that I'm living out are from 2 Corinthians. The first one is in 2 Corinthians 12:9. It says (in Marchauna's improvised version) that God's grace is sufficient for me, for His strength or power is made perfect in weakness. The apostle Paul, who wrote the verse, said that because Jesus' power was made perfect in his weakness, he'd boast in his weakness, so that God might be more glorified! It is difficult to truthfully embrace such a concept; I don't want to boast in my weaknesses. I want to hide them, even from myself if at all possible! In doing so, I doom myself to repeating the same mistakes I've made in the past. So, I'm choosing to live as though 2 Corinthians 12:9 is true. That is part of the reason for this post.

2 Corinthians 2:14 is another verse I'm choosing to live as though is true. It says (once again in Marchauna's improvised version) that God always leads me in triumphal procession and makes me the fragrance of the knowledge of Him everywhere. Now, many days I feel anything BUT triumphant, and when all I do is stay at home caring for my children all day, I can't imagine how God is making me the fragrance of Himself ANYWHERE. But, by choosing to live as though that verse is true, I'm seeing triumph where failure has always reigned. God Himself has been showing me how He makes me His fragrance in places I never could have imagined. And, though I'd never thought of it before, He is using me to be the fragrance of the knowledge of Himself to my own children.

It is not easy, walking by faith. Choosing to live as though the Bible is true, regardless of anything, can be very difficult. Emotions can seem so real. Circumstances can seem so reasonable. Cultural trends are tough to go against. How thankful I am to not have to walk this road alone. Jesus has been keeping His promise to demonstrate His power through my weaknesses. It is not easy, and I don't have this whole thing figured out, but I really like the new definition for faith that I've learned. By God's grace, I will choose to live as though the Bible is true, regardless!

Not so hot wheels

2008-01-06T00:25:00.000-08:00

Recently, my husband and I met up with another gentleman for some errands. My mother kept all the kids, so we were able to ride in a much more fuel efficient sedan, leaving our 1993 Suburban parked in a parking lot. Now, this parking lot wasn't necessarily the greatest place to leave a car. Big signs all over the place warned that the business who managed the parking lot was not responsible for lost or stolen items. You were encouraged to take valuables with you and even though you locked your vehicle, not to leave it very long.

Well, I'm sure you know how errands can go. Whatever the reason for your excursion, it always takes a long time. Such was the case for us. After several hours, we finally found ourselves back in the parking lot. Our car was still there. Only after my husband reached into his pocket to retrieve his keys did we realize the horrifying truth: the keys were in the ignition of the Suburban! Our not-so-new and not-so-beautiful Suburban, full of carseats and booster seats and diapers and wipes, was so unattractive to would-be thieves that it sat, with the keys IN THE IGNITION for several hours, AND NO ONE TOOK IT!

Now, you have to understand, we didn't leave the keys on purpose. We didn't want our car to be stolen. But, it was kind of sad to realize that even if a would-be thief was wondering around the parking lot that day, he or should would have been totally not interested in our car. I don't know what that says about our taste in vehicles, or the condition of our vehicle, but either way, you have to admit it is pretty funny. At least I think so. If someone had stolen it, I probably wouldn't be laughing. But, if they did, the joke would definitely have been on them!

Abundant Blessings

2007-11-24T17:15:00.000-08:00

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!

No More Almond Rocca

2007-11-13T14:12:00.000-08:00

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!

She's not a baby anymore

2007-10-28T18:00:00.000-07:00

I am the mother of a jr. high age kid. This is taking some getting used to! And no, it is not just because I am getting old; I'm NOT! Ok, I'm getting closer to being 40 than to 30, but that really isn't the problem. The issue at hand is, my daughter is old enough to be in junior high.

Now, you have to understand; I had four children in five years and I've been pregnant 10 times in the last 12 years. So, I've spent lots of time being pregnant and holding babies. I remember clearly the struggle of getting out of the house when I had to buckle four kids into carseats and make sure I had diapers and changes of clothes for at least two of those kids! It hasn't been that long since I could go nowhere without taking into consideration the needs and challenges of my large young family.

But, I no longer have only, or even mostly, young children! It is strange; nice - I'm really enjoying this change, but it is kind of strange. My oldest daughter can babysit, and she does a good job. I can trust her to manage portions of my job, quite successfully. She is still very much a child, and I'm not expecting her to be all grown up now. Quite the contrary, I'm enjoying this stage of her childhood very much. But, with the new pleasure of having a daughter who is old enough to babysit and bear more responsilibity is the challenge of having that same child go to youth group and do the "young adult" thing! This is just so strange. I have to change my mindset! Hopefully she doesn't mind that deep down inside, I'm really just an overgrown teenager and plan to share this adventure she is embarking on! Because, like it or not, we're both in for a wild ride. I guess I better hang on tight, too, since this adventure isn't going to be over for a long time.

How (not) to Win Friends and Influence People

2007-10-27T17:46:00.000-07:00

We have a friend who has worked for the last eight years with a non-profit organization in China developing programs to meet the needs of physically or developmentally handicapped children and their parents. She is in the US for a short time, and was able to visit. In anticipation of her visit, and because it was generally needed, we tided the house. Having arrived home from a meeting literally minutes before our guest, I knew the living room was presentable, and figured the rest of the house didn't matter - we'd just stay in the living room.

After enjoying a wonderful visit, and just before leaving on the next leg of her journey, our friend used the bathroom. After exchanging hugs and waving goodbye to our friend as she drove away, I went to use the bathroom. It was then I discovered just how much the rest of the house mattered!

One of my children (who is not yet old enough for school) had had an accident. Wet little girl panties were laying in the middle of the bathroom floor. A small yellow puddle graced the floor right in front of our toilet. How long it had been since the accident I had no idea, but I knew one thing for sure. My guest and friend, who is very proper and gracious, had gone into what I thought was a clean bathroom, and said nothing to me about how very improper and unclean the room really was! Ahhhh! At least she is already a friend! Even with a friend, though, that isn't the kind of influence I want to have. Guess I won't be giving any of those seminars anytime soon.

Red (and not so red) hot peppers

2007-10-17T15:11:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday afternoons, I pick my niece up from preschool. This week, someone set out a box of jalapeno peppers, chili peppers and tomatillos with a sign that said free. So, we took one of each; we're studying Mexico right now.

The peppers were setting on the counter this morning when my girls decided they needed to see how hot they really were. I warned them not to try it, but you know how much Mom knows! So, my sweet, precious, very sensitive 6 year old took a bite right off the tip of the pepper, seeds and all.

Didn't take long for that sweet, precious, very sensitive 6 year old to recognize her mistake, but it was too late. The fire was already kindled. To the refrigerator she ran, grabbing the milk and quickly filling a cup with the white flame retardant. To her credit, she didn't cry. That was a big accomplishment, since the last time she tasted a hot pepper, she cried for 20 minutes!

Before the morning was over, I'd also tasted one of the peppers. Though it was hot, I only touched it to the tip of my tongue, I didn't bite, chew or swallow. So, my experience was very brief and relatively painless. But, when Dad returned from work, the girls greeted him with a report that Mom had tasted the pepper.

I've been accepted into the Rodgers' Red Hot Pepper Club! And, I learned a very important lesson; when you touch chili peppers, DON'T TOUCH YOUR EYES, NOSE OR MOUTH! Needless to say, I learned that from personal experience! Whatever it is that makes them hot (the capsaisin?) gets on your fingers. Yikes. Those peppers are HOT, and they just keep giving, and giving, and giving. But, at some point either my eyes and nose will become immune to their effects (from frying the nerves in said areas) or the hot stuff will wear off my fingers. Hopefully that happens before it is time to take my contacts out tonight!

Just consider yourself warned, though. If you come to our house in the near future, you will be offered a pepper, whether it is on the menu or not. It will be hot, and an innocent, precious six year old will say, "Please bite it. I did." Just say no!

Day of the Dishwasher

2007-09-22T20:45:00.000-07:00

Just days after my husband left to work away from home for six week, our automatic dishwasher quit. Completely overwhelmed with the challenge of trying to find a new one (and not really wanting to shell out $500 either!), I did the next best thing; nothing! Being the mother of four school-age children, I figured we could wait until my husband returned home to solve the dilemma. While we were waiting, those school-age children would wash dishes the old fashioned way, but hand.

During the time we were without an automatic dishwasher, it wasn't really a big deal. Girls rotated who had the washing job and who had the putting away job. Dishes were done after every meal. The kitchen actually started looking tidier for some reason. I seriously considered taking that space and putting more cupboards! But, wisdom prevailed, as did my desire for not only clean-looking, but santized dishes. Instead of extra cupboards, God provided a new (to us) dishwasher and someone to install it.

My four girls sure have learned to appreciate dishwashers, though! Actually, so have I.

Don't Covet

2007-08-21T17:15:00.000-07:00

"The Bible says not to covet, even if it is your friend's trip to Africa," were the wise words a friend told me earlier this year. One of my dear friends, who happens to be married to my husband's cousin, making her not only a friend, but family, was moving to Africa as a missionary, and I was very jealous. So, why was I coveting my friend's trip to Africa, you may wonder. Well, let me tell you.

As a jr high girl, I read The Star of Light by Melissa M. St. John. It is the story of a missionary nurse in India who cares for street children in a very large city. A brother and sister (who is blind) run away from a terrible situation at home, in search of this nurse. The story recounts how the boy learns about Jesus and what happens both to him and his young sister, who is blind. It captured my heart and set my direction for the next several years, until I completed my nursing degree, even determining my summer plans for three different summers. For most of my life, it has been my dream not only to work as a registered nurse, but to work as a registered nurse as a missionary in Africa.

Somewhere between graduating from nursing school and getting married, I got off the road I'd so carefully planned. Instead of heading to the foreign field, I ran into road-blocks. Honestly, I don't remember what they were, but somehow I didn't make it to Africa like I'd planned. Then, when I met this increcible man and fell in love, it suddenly wasn't just about me anymore. My husband had his own set of dreams and desires. Not only that, but I totally under-estimated his determination and desire to do something besides go to Africa!

So, instead of going to Africa and working as a nurse, I stayed in the US, busy with a different kind of nursing. My husband and I joined the staff of a large non-profit organization and began working as life coaches focusing on the spiritual needs of college students. It is a wonderful way to invest my energy, as is pouring myself into raising my children. Yet, part of my heart still yearns to go to Africa. Thus, when I came face-to-face with my dear friend's immenent departure, I was overcome with heartache, disappointment, and (though I hate to admit it) jealousy!

My sweet friend noticed my tear-streaked face, and after inquiring as to its cause, gave me her sage, and sound, advice not to covet my friend's trip to Africa. Unfortunately, it is much easier to know the right thing than it is to actually do it. An update just arrived, via e-mail, from my dear friend, describing the trip to their East Africa location. I'm coveting their trip to Africa! Ok, not any more. But, I did. It was, of course, in the most honorable of ways. Still, it was coveting. Yuck.

The commandment not to covet was written a very long time ago, when the world was a much different place. But, it still applies today, in the 21st century, where people like me can covet things never imagined by those around when it was written. The general idea is exactly the same; don't want what God has given someone else. God is helping me recognize that I'm wanting what He has given others, while at the same time helping me appreciate and want what He has given me. Not easy, but it is a very good thing.

Burning coals

2007-07-19T21:47:00.000-07:00

Proverbs 25:21 and 22 says that if you are nice to your enemy, then you will heap coals of burning fire on his head and the Lord will reward you. Romans 12:20 says basically the same thing. At first, it sounds like God will reward you for doing a bad thing! Heaping coals of burning fire on the head of anyone, in our culture, is definitely not good. But, if you look at the cultural and historic context, the perspective changes greatly.

I've been told that in the culture and time when the verses were written, it was actually a very good thing to heap coals of fire on some one's head. If you remove our 21st century conveniences like central heat, ovens with timers and thermostats, and sources of heat like electricity and natural gas, all of a sudden fire becomes much more valuable. Though I've never studied the context or details out myself, I've been told that to heap coals of fire on some one's head is like giving them coals to start a cooking fire or to get heat going in their cold tent. It is a very good thing.

Recently, I had the opportunity to experience the benefit of heaping coals of fire. Fortunately, the coals were not on my head! My folks were visiting, and we decided to head down to a local river to swim. When dinner time arrived, we had everything for the cookout, except charcoal. The little grill in the park next to our picnic table, though, did have a very small pile of coals, left over from some other cookout! Being the resourceful mother of many that I am (and you know, necessity is the mother of invention), I gathered handfuls of twigs from the ground and used the left over coals to start a fire. It worked great! We had hot, tasty food, without any charcoal, matches or lighter fluid, all because some one left a heap of burning coals.

Since that experience, the verse in Proverbs has come to mind often. As I've reflected on my adventure with coals, I realized I've learned a couple of lessons. The first lesson is how very much I take for granted the modern conveniences I have!! If I want to cook, all I have to do is turn on my stove and blue flame leaps to life. If I want to bake something, the digital read out on my oven tells me when the oven has reached the right temperature. If it is cold in my house, with the flip of a switch I can make it warm. Such conveniences have only been available for a relatively short time in the scheme of human history. I have much for which to be thankful!

The second lesson I've learned is how vital it is to understand the historical and cultural context of a passage of Scripture. Without further background on Proverbs 25:21, I thought God was willing to give a reward for a bad thing. Instead, it has become very clear from my experience that God is honoring kindness and generosity to an enemy instead of recognizing an action that could only be considered spiteful and unkind. The Bible can seem to mean very different things depending on your perspective, but looking at the context limits the interpretations significantly.

If there is a moral to this story, it is up to you to choose. One last piece of advice, though. If you find yourself at the park ready to barbecue without any briquettes, see if another grill has coals still burning. Just make sure the people who lit the fire are actually done using it. That way you won't find yourself actually experiencing the transfer of burning coals to your body!

With wings like eagles

2007-07-02T16:50:00.000-07:00

Usually, what gets written here is funny. I like to focus on humor, because as so many of you know, life is hard and you can either laugh or cry. Laughing is easier and much more fun. But lately, I haven't had lots to laugh about. With my husband traveling a lot for his work this summer, I've been a single-mom and life has been CRAZY!

With only one of me, and six of my children, it is very much like a six-on-one sports match. I'm definitely running my tail off. Too bad I'm not burning calaries like I would playing a sport all day. Instead, I'm tired at the end of the day! Many things remain unfinished, and things I thought had been completed often are not. Case in point; early one morning, my son's diaper leaked as I nursed him in bed. I pulled the sheets off and got them to the foot of Mt. Washmore in the laundry room then rushed off to fix breakfast and manage my home for the day. Some time after 10:00pm, it was bed time for the baby boy and I was ready to drop. But, I still had to make my bed! At least I had clean sheets (though the wet ones were still down at the foot of Mt. Washmore). When my son is grown, I'll have to pay for his counseling, but with no option other than to let him scream, I left him contained and put sheets on the bed.

The amazing thing I've discovered, though, is that God's promise in the Old Testament book of Isaiah (Isaiah 40:31; you can read it at http://http://www.blueletterbible.org/cgi-bin/tools/printer-friendly.pl?book=Isa&chapter=40&version=ESV#31/) is true. He says that if I wait on Him, then I will run and not grow weary, I will walk and not faint. Now, I'm not running or walking in the literal sense, but I'm definitely running my feet off! And I'm tired, but not worn out. God is giving me the strength I need every day to keep going.

Some days have been more difficult than others. When my son woke up sick, the police chief of our little town called to ask me to pick up our dog from City Hall (yes, it is a small town, and the last time the police chief called about a dog, we got a $150 fine!), and the dishwasher quit all on the same day, it was really hard. When I got an early morning call from camp to let me know that my daughter was throwing up and needed to be picked up, my whole day was pretty much shot. But, life goes on, and I was not completely overwhelmed by it!

The other night, a few women had gathered in my living room to talk about the Psalms. Our focus for the evening was Psalm 59, which David (the second king of Israel) wrote after his father-in-law (the first king) sent men to his house to kill him. And you thought you had in-law trouble! David had a choice what he was going to focus on, and he focused on the God who created both him and his father-in-law, instead of just his father-in-law. When asked what lessons had been learned, one woman said, "The world won't stop for you, but God will." That made me stop and think! The world doesn't stop for me, even if my life is falling apart. But, the God who created me and the rest of the world DOES stop for me. He is concerned about what I'm concerned about. He knows my weaknesses and He helps me. He knows I am made of dust, and He treats me accordingly. It is a wonderful gift. You might say it keeps me going.

Major Multi-tasking

2007-06-17T23:59:00.000-07:00

As a mother of many, I've gotten used to multi-tasking. It doesn't look the same as it might in the corporate world, but it is multi-tasking all the same. Recently my ability was challenged as it has never been challenged before. Yes, it happened in the bathroom. For some reason, most of my funniest moments are either in the bathroom or related to something that should take place in a bathroom.

We were visiting my parents when one of my girls called me to, you guessed it, the bathroom. The finicky toilet was acting up and Mom needed to fix it. Recognizing that the toilet wasn't just acting up, but that it was rapidly filling up, I lifted the tank lid to try and stop the water flow. It didn't work! With the water line fast approaching the rim of the toilet bowl, I carefully moved the heavy porcelain lid (with one hand!) and set it aside. Then I grabbed the toilet plunger and went to work on the toilet. Soon, the water was moving the right direction and disaster was averted.

So, you say, where is the multi-tasking in all that? Well, let me tell you. I was not alone as I saved my mother's bathroom from certain destruction (ok, maybe it wasn't that bad). My infant son crawled in just about the time I removed the toilet tank lid. He then crawled up to me and stood up between my legs. It was quite entertaining trying to plunge a toilet with an 8-month old baby alternately reaching for the toilet and pulling on my jeans!

The trials and triumphs of being three

2007-06-17T23:39:00.000-07:00

My youngest daughter is three. She has mastered the art of communication; you know when she likes or doesn't like something. She has mastered the art of motation, no longer walking, or even running to get where she is going. The prefered mode of transportation for my youngest daughter is hopping, like Tigger, every where she goes.

Well, almost every where she goes. Having been born into the 21st Century, she doesn't hop around in the car like those of a previous generation. No. She is buckled into an approved child safety seat. Having reached the whopping weight of 35 #, this little bundle of energy can be buckled into a "booster seat" with a belt-positioning back, so that if we are ever in a crash, all the parts of her that are currently connected will stay connected. It is a good thing. Or at least it is a good thing if you are the mom. If you are the kid, it can be a drag.

Last Sunday, we were on our way to rural Idaho to speak at a church. Though we were on a fairly busy state highway, my husband noticed a deer grazing just off the road. Naturally, he wanted to share this memorable occasion with the rest of the occupants of the vehicle. This was one of the times it was a drag to be in a high-back booster seat. The littlest girl in our car couldn't see past the back of her booster seat; she couldn't see the deer. Then, she demonstrated just how well she'd mastered the art of communication by commencing to bawl, loudly. We quickly got the message she wasn't happy.

Thinking maybe my little girl would be distracted from her plight and laugh, I asked if she would like to have everyone in the car cry with her, to see if maybe then she could see the deer. You and I know that such antics won't make any difference in the past, even the very recent past. My three year old didn't. She somberly nodded her head in response to my question. Being the amazing man that he is, my husband immediately started making appropriate noises. Then he rallied the rest of the car, except for me, to make very loud crying sounds. I wasn't making any sounds, but the tears of laughter streaming down my face were testimony to the fact that I participating as much as possible. As the noise continued, my husband glanced in the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of his youngest daughter. While the rest of the occupants of the car (babies excluded) cried their best cries, she struggled to peer over the side of her car seat, to see she could glimpse the no-longer-visable-deer.

In the end, my efforts paid off. My little girl was distracted from her plight. We were all greatly entertained, even if it didn't help anyone see anything for us to all cry together for a while. We'll have to wait and see if the family who cries together sticks together, or if we just get sticky.

A New Take on Training

2007-04-18T15:17:00.000-07:00

Today, a child at my house used the back yard as a toilet. Though this is not a new or heretofore unknown phenomenon, it hasn't happened for a long time; I was hoping it would never happen again! But, alas, it has. Now, I get to embark on yet another adventure with toilet training. The reason I am embarking on yet another adventure is because each of my four older children have, at one time or another, tried the same toilet-testing technique.

Many years ago, when my oldest daughter was but three (and I had two other children, in diapers), my husband had a brilliant idea. If our very-recently-toilet-trained three year old couldn't make it to the toilet, she could go outside in the bushes. Boy, oh boy, talk about a license to kill. All of a sudden, our little girl had NO accidents, but our grass had lots of brown spots surrounded by lush green rings. She even showed a visitor's son how to leave his mark on the great outdoors.

Of course, having told one child (even though we changed that directive, QUICKLY) she could go outside, each child has gotten the first message without the second. Hmmm? Wonder how that happened? Don't tell me! Now, with two three year olds (my sister and niece are here) running around, yet another "generation" of kids are challenging my sanity.

So, now for my new take on toilet training; if you rub dogs noses in their pxxp when they leave deposits in the house, will it work to rub a kid's nose in it when a kid pxxps in the yard? I'm not sure it will work, I'm pretty sure I don't want to clean up the resulting mess, and I'm not brave enough to try it. But, it is something to ponder. If I rubbed a little girl's nose in her mess in the back yard, would she try making a mess in the backyard ever again?!

The Path of Least Resistance

2007-04-11T14:45:00.000-07:00

You've undoubtedly heard the saying that water takes the path of least resistance. Over the years I've learned that other things also follow that pattern; men, children, clutter, things like that. Recently, though, I had a startling realization; mothers also tend to follow the path of least resistance, or at least this one does.

Now, don't get me wrong. My children will let you know without a doubt that I am not a pushover when it comes to issues of discipline or character development. A few of them will tell you how mean I can be. While by no means perfect, I most certainly strive to give my children what they need, just simply what they want because it is easier. But, in certain areas, I have chosen the path of least resistance and only in hindsight do I see the consequences.

From my earliest childhood, my dream was to be a nurse. Yes, I know, that is very typical and traditional, but it was my dream. My other dream was to go to Africa or India and take care of orphans and peole who needed medical care. I wanted to save the world, one bandaid at a time. Somewhere along the way, I met Mr. Incredible (no, not the super hero, but a real super guy), fell in love and started having babies. After my oldest daughter was born, I went back to nursing, but only for a few months. It was just too difficult to have someone else telling me what my daughter was doing; I didn't want to miss out on her milestones just to do something with the letters behind my name, no matter how hard I worked for them. So, I quit. Since then, I've let go of many aspects of my dream; not only am I staying home and out of the hospital, my nursing license is long-since expired, and the only hope I have of going to Africa is to visit friends who are ministering there. Not only that, but my second career as a spiritual life coach is on hold indefinitely while I focus on ministering to my family. The path of least resistance was to let go of dreams, then just stop dreaming.

Over the course of years that I've been focusing on letting go of dreams, God has fulfilled some dreams I didn't realize I had. I am beginning to enjoy the opportunity (instead of the burden) of making my house a home, creating a safe haven for my family and others that is more than just a place to eat and sleep. Having children was never on my list of things to do before I die, but I would miss out on SO much in life without my blessings, and they are blessings! My oldest daughter dreams of writing (rather like Anne of Green Gables, in many ways), but I never really did. It is only in hindsight that I realize how very much I enjoy writing, and how many opportunities I have to do so (we publish a monthly newsletter and send a weekly e-mail update for people who invest in our non-profit organization). As a result of opportunities to speak to different groups, I've discovered God has gifted me and given me a desire to do more public speaking; again, one He has already been filling. Today I was invited to a meeting of the parents' association where my girls go to school. Though feeling very much like a third wheel (and not unlike a child sitting at the grow-ups' table), questioning why I even came, it went well. In the end, several others in attendance said they really appreciated me coming and felt like I contributed a great deal to the meeting. It was a totally new experience, in a completely unknown territory, but it was fun!

I've taken the path of least resistance, pursuing and then letting go of my dreams. I'm only beginning to realize that though the territory is unknown and the dreams not yet dreamed, I can enjoy and embrace the dreams God has for me. (For more information on a personal relationship with God, visit http://www.greatcom.org/laws/englishkgp/default.htm.) Only God knows what the future holds, but He is beginning to open my eyes to the fact that He truly loves me and has a wonderful plan for my life; one that doesn't include just sacrifice. It looks different than I expected, but it isn't quite as bleak as it first appeared. The lesson I'm learning, though, is that it requires much more effort from me to embrace new hopes and dreams, to explore new territory and take on new challenges. This mom is no longer going to settle for the path of least resistance.

The Ultimate April Fool's Day Prank

2007-04-07T19:34:00.002-07:00

Ok, maybe after having five girls, I'm a little excited about having a boy. Maybe I'm even proud of my son, feeling very special that I can finally dress a baby in blue. Until last Sunday (April Fool's Day), though, I didn't have any idea it mattered to me so much. How, you may wonder, did I make such a startling discovery? Well, let me tell you. It has to do with our time-honored tradition surrounding April Fool's Day.

April Fool's Day at our house has taken on epic proportions. It is, in a way, our favorite holiday. Girls plan for months to pull off the perfect prank. Two years in a row, we were tee-pee'd, by our own daughters! One year, the girls even tee-pee'd us in our bed! Ok, I admit, we played along with that one a litte. And Chris played along with the girls when they put parchment paper over the toilet bowl instead of plastic wrap. This was the first year in many that I wasn't the one soaked by the rubber banded kitchen spray nozzle, only because I didn't do it! But, the prank pulled by my older daughters has got to be the best April Fool's Day prank ever in the history of our family. The girls dressed my son in pink!

Now, to really understand and appreciate the success of this prank, I have to give you the whole story. First, I dressed my boy, as I usually do, in appropriate boy clothes before heading downstairs. Since it was a Sunday, he was dressed for church. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of green eggs and ham (yes, we really ate green eggs and ham, like in the book) before loading into the car to head to church. As I was wrapping up final details from our mornings' adventures, I asked my oldest daughter to buckle her brother in the car. She quickly responded she'd buckled him in already; that should have been my first clue. A last minute scramble to cover the baby with a blanket drew a little curiosity, but not enough for me to figure out something was up. Not until a final check by Dad did we discover the reason for the above described behavior; the baby boy was dressed in pink!

If it had only been a pink dress my daughters dressed their brother in, it would have been funny, but not the prank of all-time. What takes this prank up several notches is what happened in addition to the pink dress. Every detail was covered! The diaper bag had been completely transformed; the wipes container was princess pink instead of boy blue, an extra dress (purple instead of pink) took the place of the pants and shirt, even a bonnet, EVERYTHING was girly! Because the discovery was made before we left home, I had time to grab a change of clothes before running out the door to church. What I did not count on was the creative energy my daughters would exert to make sure their brother arrived at church in pink. They hid the extra clothes! That's right; my daughters (they all collectively take credit) hid the extra clothes I grabbed, so their brother had to go into church wearing a pink dress! A few people commented on how cute my baby girl was, too!

When the pastor asked if anyone new was visiting, my husband stood up to introduce his new "daughter." Everyone howled with laughter! Even a week later, people were still laughing, asking for details. Thankfully, before the experience was over, I was able to see the joke and laugh. I must admit, though, it took a while to embrace the humor. You see, I'm very proud to have a baby I can dress in blue. But, maybe not quite so proud as I was. After all, what is April Fool's Day for if not to make a fool of someone, especially your mom, in front of dozens of people. This is definitely the best April Fool's Day prank ever pulled in our family!

Ode to my Mother-in-Law

2007-03-22T23:38:00.000-07:00

Everyone is familiar with mother-in-law jokes. You know, the stuff that folks laugh at on sit-coms and other places. If you believe the jokes, mothers-in-law make outlaws look good, and the only thing worse is a trip to the dentist for a root canal, without any drugs. Well, I want everyone to know that my mother-in-law is NOTHING like the women you hear about in the jokes!

My mother-in-law is an amazing woman! She raised five children, a good part of it as a single mother! Each of her children graduated from college and are successful, kind people. Yes, of course I'm biased, but it is true.

The real reason my mother-in-law is an amazing woman, though, has less to do with what she has accomplished (which is noteworthy, indeed) and more to do with her heart. While we are very different people, my mother-in-law loves me just the way I am. It is difficult to put into words, but oh so precious in my heart.

Probably the biggest difference between me and my mother-in-law is that she plans ahead, and I don't. It isn't that I don't want to, I just don't get around to it. My mother-in-law is organized the way I want to be, but never quite seem to achieve. She is ready and prepared for almost everything, almost always. I, on the other hand, am rarely ready for anything, ever. I'm usually tieing up loose ends to the very last minute, with all the chaos and confusion it brings.

Here is where the amazing part comes in; my mother-law loves me anyway. She could look down her nose at the woman her son married and wonder why I don't shape up and fly right. She could let me know, either bluntly or subtly, that she wasn't sure I qualified to raise her grandchildren. Instead, she tells me she thinks I'm doing a great job! She encourages me and helps me grow. It is a gift I treasure and a blessing I thank Jesus for almost every day. It is such a gift, I had to share it! I have a wonderful mother-in-law!

Diapering Disaster

2007-02-22T21:24:00.000-08:00

Last night, through the night, I got wet. My infant son was sleeping beside me so that I could more easily attend his needs; like Dr. Bill Sears, we have a "family" bed. It usually saves me trouble and allows me to get back to sleep quickly after 4 am feedings. Usually. Last night, I got wet. This morning, I had to change my pajamas, my pillowcases, and my sheets, because the reason I got wet was a leaky diaper.

I'm a mom. I've been changing diapers for 12 years, and with six kids, that's a lot of diapers. My oldest daughter, who has been around for most of those diaper changes, is a huge help at home. She can fix a simple meal if I need her to. She can run to the corner grocery or pick up mail. She can even watch her siblings for short periods, freeing me up to work on things she can't do. My oldest daughter has even changed her fair share of diapers over the years.

Last night, though, my oldest daughter was no diapering expert. She put the diaper on wrong! Somehow, she didn't get the diaper on straight or something, because the diaper stayed dry and everything around it got wet! You may be wondering why I didn't realize earlier in the night that I had a problem. Actually, I wonder that myself! When I finally discovered that the diaper was leaking, it was an "ah ha" moment. Unfortunately, that moment didn't come until my brain actually had the capacity to have such a realization and by then, the night was over and it was too late.

It could be worse; much worse. I could live some place without disposable diapers. I could lives somewhere without diapers. I could live some where without washing machines. So, in the grand scheme of things, if my oldest daughter isn't a diaper genie, I can live with it. What I can't live with is a world without children, even if it means my son soaks me instead of his diaper. There are much worse disasters.

Mommy: Its who I am.

2007-02-04T00:43:00.000-08:00

I love being a mom; I really do. It has defined my life for the last 12 years, and will continue to do so to one degree or another for the rest of my days. Now, certain aspects of motherhood don't rate as highly on my list as others. Diaper duty is not a favorite. Cleaning up after children who have been sick with the flu definitely is not an activity I'd volunteer for outside of motherhood. Even the challenges associated with dressing and doing hair for five daughters is less than desirable in my mind. But, none of these challenges can outweigh the blessings and joy my children bring.

Recently I saw a mom who had two young children with her at the grocery store. The little girl, probably two, was cranky and fussing. When I commented to the mom that her little girl must by tired, trying to commiserate because I know what it is like to shop with a tired two year old, the poor woman was not encouraged. Her level of frustration and displeasure was so obvious it made my heart heavy. Parenting is never easy, but it doesn't have to be miserable! Children are a blessing from the Lord! Even challenging children (and I have a few) are blessings and bring joy!

Sometimes it can be difficult to see the joy. I've had days when Calgon couldn't take me far enough away! More than once I've wanted to hand in my resignation to anyone who would take it (no one would), feeling completley inadequate for the task of raising my children. Motherhood is not convenient. It requires giving more of myself than I knew I had to give, and it certainly doesn't work on my time schedule. But joy in motherhood abounds, if we just look.

I found joy recently in a hug from my three year old. As she wrapped her arms around me and put sticky fingers on my clean shirt she said, "Mommy, I love you sooo much." So the shirt had to go in the laundry. I have to do laundry anyway. I also found joy after a rare nap. While my husband and I were sleeping, our two oldest daughters were busy not sleeping. Instead, they set up a table in the Family Room (where we host large dinner parties - just push the couches out of the way), with places for two, and lit candles to eat by. It was wonderful. Now, dinner was not gourmet. It only consisted of one course, and it was a pretty simple course. But, my two oldest daughters worked together to give my husband and me a date. How much more precious can you get?! Focusing on the efforts to bless us, and not on the mess left behind in the kitchen or the candle wax on my linen table cloth made it possible to treasure the gift from our daughters.

Never having planned to have children, I know God laughs every day as He watches me function (barely) as the mother of six. Still, He has instilled in my heart a passion for being a mom that I never imagined I could have. I LOVE being a mom. I LOVE having children. I even love what is required to have six children, though laundry will never be a favorite activity. If only more moms understood how precious their children are, and how quickly they will be gone; even toddlers who are hungry, tired and cranky.

One Day at a Time

2007-01-11T18:50:00.000-08:00

Where does time go? It seems like only yesterday, I had three babies in diapers, and the mountain of laundry in my basement threatened to lift the house off its foundation! Some how, amidst the long days filled with tears and triumphs, dirty laundry, dishes, burned dinners or pots boiling over, girls with mismatched socks, or not socks because piles of unfolded laundry cluttered every piece of furniture in the family room, kids grew up.

I still have little kids, so life continues to be rather chaotic at times. But, most of my children can buckle their own seatbelts and get dressed by themselves. I change diapers for only one, and even have lots of help with that. Other people can do the dishes and put a load of clothes in the washer, so it frees me up to take care of other details, like working on my blogs. I still have little ones around, but recently I've begun to notice how short my time is with my older girls!

Not too long ago, someone made the statement that the days are long, but the years are short. It is SO true! This is not a new or profound statment, but when you begin to see the reality in your own life, suddenly it takes on a whole new significance. My children are growing, one day at a time.

The dishes are piling up, clutter still rules my laundry room and things I started before Christmas still aren't done. But instead of being anxious about things that won't matter in ten years, I am seeing how vital it is to enjoy making memories that will be precious for a lifetime. I still struggle with the ghost of June Cleaver, the phantom "perfect mother" who lives next door, and the tension of trying to keep a clean house while investing in the hearts of my children. But, each day that brings me closer to that perfect clean house also brings me closer to the empty house. And, just my older daughters "got big" somewhere along the way, all my children will leave home someday. If I can embrace the days, maybe the years won't fly by quite so fast.

The miracle of life

2006-12-05T06:14:00.000-08:00

You'd think that as the mother of six children, the miracle of life would be old hat. After all, I've experienced the process a few times already. Yet, somehow each baby that I hold in my arms is more a miracle than the last. Perhaps the reason is related to being pregnant four different times when I didn't hold a baby in my arms and watching the death of my younger sister. Life is very fragile. It truly is a miracle and cannot be taken for granted.

Perhaps part of the reason I'm so in awe of the baby I hold in my arms each day is because he is a boy. Honestly, though, I don't think that is the reason. Most of my pregnancy, I battled fear; fear that the baby slowing being knit together "in secret" would not actually live to be born. Even up to delivery, the nagging fear that life would be stolen from this precious child in my womb tempered my excitement. Now, though I am not guaranteed a long life for my son, or even for my five daughters, the fear is gone. In it's place is a wonder and sense of awe. This little person, so distinct and different from me, came from me. Wow.

God is so amazing. He created the miracle of life, and yet somehow I think even He is caught up in the wonder of His creation. Not only did God create the miracle of life, He watched His Son, Jesus, be born as a baby. He watched with delight as Jesus grew into a man, then He pronounced His blessing at Jesus' baptism, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased." Who among us wouldn't be encouraged to hear such words coming out of the mouth of our father, good man or not?

Life is a precious gift. It is a miracle to get pregnant and a miracle when a baby is born. Well do I know that a positive pregnancy test doesn't guarantee a wee one to hold nine months later. When God's gift results in pregnancy and that pregnancy ends with a healthy baby, it truly is a miracle. A miracle of life.

Baby boy basics

2006-10-08T21:52:00.000-07:00

Now that my son is a whole four days old, I'm astounded at how much I've learned about the difference between boys and girls. Some things are obvious; the anatomy is decidely different. Other things, though, aren't quite so obvious, like how to check a diaper for wetness.

Having changed thousands of diapers over the last 11 years, my habits are well established. Since every one of those thousands of diaper changes were on girls, I had no idea my habits needed to change. Now, I know.

When I check the diaper of a little girl, to see if it is wet and needing to be changed, I simply grab the front of the diaper and squeeze. You can't do that with little boys! That lesson I learned the hard way, though I think it was more painful for my son because he was the one that cried. Now, I'm perfecting an alternative method of checking for wetness, and being VERY careful in the process.

I'm also learning to be very quick with wetness protection maneuvers. Girls don't react to cold air the same way boys do. It is one thing to be told; it is completely different to understand. So far, we have changed multiple outfits, blankets, socks, and my pants. It could be worse. Most of the diaper changes are happening on my bed, and I've yet to need to change the whole bed, though I have a feeling it will happen sooner than later.

The other difference I've noticed is appetite. My husband has a big appetite. He should. He is a big boy (6'5") who works hard. My son also has a big appetite, but he isn't that big (9lbs, 20 inches long) and he isn't working hard. Still, he thinks he needs to eat every two hours. Sometimes I can push it to two and a half, but not without lots of coaxing. To be honest, I don't mind. There are few more enjoyable ways to spend time than with a baby whose arrival has been so greatly anticipated.

Somehow, I doubt my lessons on the difference between boys and girls are even close to being done. What a privilege to be learning such lessons, both because I've been blessed with a baby boy, and because I've been blessed with children at all. It is a wonderful and humbling experience to be the mother of a such a precious family! Children really are a blessing from the Lord.

Birth days and babies

2006-10-08T21:21:00.000-07:00

As I write this, I am most joyously not pregnant. Instead, I'm holding perhaps the most perfect baby boy ever to grace the planet. Yes, I am biased, but he is really cute.

The occasion of this little guy's arrival is most notably wonderful because of one thing; it finally happened! After failed and frustrating attempts to have a baby on my time, God blessed me with a safe and successful delivery not even a week past my due date. And, everyone joined in the celebration.

Struggling with exhaustion, my labor went in fits and starts for a while. Finally, the wonderful OB nurse caring for me arranged for pitocin and an epidural, in that order. The pitocin went to work immediately. The epidural took a little longer, since the anesthesiologist wasn't in house. Still, once he got things in place (after one failed attempt and my husband's near black-out), life was wonderful, for about two hours. Then two things happened in quick succession. First, the doctor checked to see what was happening, then very pleased with my progress, went to change into scrubs for delivery. Second, the contractions started hurting again; picture Marlin from Nemo, "Good feeling gone."

Not realizing how close I was to delivery, I asked for the epidural to be turned up. The doctor, who had just returned from changing his clothes, said "No. You need to push." Then he told the nurse to turn up the pitocin! I said, "I don't want to push. It hurts." But, next thing I knew, my body was doing exactly what God designed it to do; pushing! Someone told me they could see a head of dark hair, and I pushed really hard. Within minutes, I was holding my new son.

We're settling in at home, celebrating the birth of our baby with balloons and cards; celebrating the births of our oldest and youngest daughters with cakes and balloons and cards. In the end, we're celebrating the gift of life, and rejoicing that we have such a privilege.

Celebrating Birthdays that Weren't

2006-10-02T13:30:00.000-07:00

As I write this, I'm very pregnant, having carried my baby four days past my official "due date." Though I am anxious to deliver this baby and finally hold him in my arms (our first boy, after five girls!), it isn't as big a deal as it has been in the past. What is entertaining, though, is all the birthdays this little boy WON'T celebrate.

Because of a back injury, the last few weeks of pregnancy are miserable. I'm so tired from not being able to find a comfortable position in which to sleep, my brain quits functioning and the littlest challenge is too great for me to manage. It has gotten worse with each pregnancy. So, this time, I had a plan. Because of my back problems (I broke my back about 10 years ago), and the estimated size of this "little" guy (probably on the larger side of 9 lbs), the doctor was willing to induce me a week before my due date.

Expecting that my efforts at control would be effective, I made all sorts of arrangements for my five other children, called parents, and made sure my sister could break away from her commitments when the need arose. But, the need never arose. God demonstrated that while I can plan my way, ultimately, He directs my steps. His direction didn't include delivering a baby early. His direction didn't even include delivering a baby on time! In fact, at this point, this baby is going to be very late!! Try explaining that to your five year old when she says, "Mommy, you said you were going to have your baby today."

Thus begins an on-going saga of expectation and disappointment that culminated last Wednesday when my fourth scheduled induction was canceled, three hours after I arrived at the hospital. Having finally gotten the clue that maybe I should wait on God's timing instead of trying to wrest control from the Creator of the universe, I signed my discharge papers and scheduled a regular OB appt with my doctor for the next Tuesday.

This morning (Monday), about 8am, the hospital called, wondering where I was! I was scheduled for an induction at 7:15am and I was very late. Since no one had informed me of this appointment, yet another induction was canceled! All together, our little baby, who seems very content to stay where he is, has missed five different birthdays; September 21, September 22, September 26, September27, and October 2. When we finally DO get to celebrate a birthday, it will be a grand occassion, indeed. Unless we have to keep celebrating birthdays that weren't. Then, by the time this baby comes, we'll all be off doing something else and he'll have to celebrate on his own!

School Daze

2006-09-01T19:06:00.000-07:00

Since my children have been homeschooled, the "back to school" rush that happens every year has passed mostly unnoticed by our family. This year, as mentioned in a previous post, we are in the midst of the chaos that characterizes the beginning of a new school year, because our children are actually going to school.

As a result, I have a confession to make. I truly hate shopping. It is something that must be done, so I do it when absolutely necessary. But, it is not something I delight in. My mother-in-law proved to be an invaluable asset with aquiring all the various and sundry necessities in the clothing department, for which I will always be grateful. As the mother of five, she is an experienced pro at wardrobing school-bound children. Her wisdom and decisiveness proved invaluable. But, even after a day in the mall, we still needed school supplies.

Thankfully, my oldest daughter (who, like most of her sisters, loves to shop) helped me navigate the two isles of our local market that held all the various school supplies. With four different children going into four different grades, our list was rather extensive. And, being several months pregnant, not sleeping well and very tired, it took me a loooong time to shop. After purchasing almost everything on the list (can you believe some of the items I needed were sold out?!) and spending at least two hours (I was very tired), we left the store.

The next day, I discovered that we'd used the wrong list! So, back to the store I went. It didn't require quite as long to gather the few items not on our original list, and it didn't cost nearly as much. But, after spending a ridiculous (to me) amount of money and making two different trips to the store, we STILL don't have everything we need for the girls to start school! By the time the first day of school actually arrives, it will be a non-event at our house. But, if Mom ever recovers from her "school daze," that will be something to celebrate! Can people really survive this every year?! I think maybe next year we'll go back to homeschool - it will be easier!

Humility and God's provision.

2006-08-27T13:16:00.000-07:00

With five children on a limited budget, finances are always a challenge. It seems that no matter what we do, we have month left at the end of the money. Recognizing that God is always the One who provides for our needs, sometimes I wish He would provide the money so we could purchase what we needed, and even what we just wanted. Instead, He seems to delight in providing for us through much more glamorous and humbling methods.

Lately, though, I've been too overwhelmed at the extent of God's provision to really think about being embarrassed because of it. Let me explain, and then you can share the awe.

First, someone wrote out a check to cover most of the costs for sending three of our five daughters to a local Christian school. Then, someone took my daughters shopping for school clothes - AND PAID FOR THEM!! Not only do I hate shopping, but I honestly wasn't sure how we would manage to purchase even the basics of a school wardrobe. Someone else said they are going to help us with getting school supplies, and my sister-in-law gave our oldest daughter the jump drive she needs for 5th grade. This is all just for school.

Someone gave us a bunkbed set, making it possible to rearrange beds to accommodate a crib. Since we're expecting baby number 6 in a matter of weeks, that is a good thing! One of our partnering churches hosted a shower (even though I wasn't able to attend) and blessed us with LOTS of clothes. Others have passed on baby clothes they aren't using, and my mom has done just a little shopping (ok - more than a little!), so we are set with clothes for at least the first few months. And, along with the bunkbed set, we were given a dresser to put all our baby clothes in. After spending most of a day looking for a used dresser without success, I appreciate that gift even more.

It is sometimes difficult to be the recipient of others donations. Going through hand-me-down clothes can be overwhelming, and you don't always have the latest style. I'd love to be free of the stress that comes with a trip to the grocery store or at the gas pump (the last trip cost $85 and didn't fill our tank!) because I'm nervous about how much it will cost and if we'll have enough for what we need. I would love to take my girls to McDonald's for lunch or buy pizza for dinner just for the heck of it. I'd love to have money to pay a babysitter so my husband and I could go on a date. I'd love to go shopping without a calculator, and not worry about the total when I got done.

But, when I think of all God has blessed us with just in the last month, it is humbling. The God of Creation, who created the entire universe and calls each of the stars by name; the God who puts presidents in office and kings on thrones; this same God is concerned with little things like where my daughters go to school this fall, what they have to wear, and where they sleep. This God, who keeps the planets in space, has provided a place to keep my son's clothes. Wow. In light of that, how can I be anything but grateful?!

All's well that ends well

2006-08-09T22:26:00.000-07:00

Travel is part of our lives. Every summer we go on a "summer project" with students from around the country, so we can have undivided time to help them with spiritual development. It is a tremendous experience for everyone involved, but it is a lot of work. Basicaly, we pack and unpack, moving in and out of a different apartment every summer.

The day of our departure was crazy and chaotic. By the time we had everything loaded into two Suburbans (we couldn't fit into one), it was 30 minutes later than we'd planned on leaving. We were suppose to be at the airport already! To make matters worse, before we'd made it to the airport, we had to turn around and go back to the apartments to pick up the daughter we'd left behind! Finally, we arrived at the airport only an hour before our scheduled departure. It was crazy! Planning to check our bags at the curb, we discovered that curbside check-in was closed for the evening. Then, one of our bags was overweight. If only they'd averaged the weight between all 14 items, we probably would have been fine!

After clearing check-in, and discovering that our flight was delayed (Thank you Jesus!) we headed to security. Expecting a LONG wait, and not being excited about getting five tired kids to cooperate with security officers, a miracle happened. The first officer we met diverted us to a seperate line, and then they stopped everyone else so we could go through. I wonder if it had something to do with having five children and 14 carry-on items. Whatever the reason, I don't care. Thankfully, they didn't select any of us for additional screening, and we were through in a very short time. It was truly amazing!!

By the time we reached our gate, it was after our originally scheduled departure time, but the plane hadn't left yet. We made it! And, we made it home without further incident, giving new meaning to the old saying "all's well that ends well."

Left Behind

2006-08-09T21:48:00.000-07:00

Normally, we are fairly attentive to where our children are, and which kids are with which parent. Having five children in eight years makes it absolutely necessary. I was proud of the fact that I'd never lost one of my precious daughters for very long, nor had I ever left one behind anywhere. That is, until July 30, when we were heading to the Anchorage airport.

The day was chaotic and confusing. Stuff had multiplied over the summer, so we couldn't fit it back into the 14 pieces of luggage we could stick under the plane. Dirt had multiplied and found hidden crevices only to reappear just when I thought the apartment was clean. It was pouring rain outside, and we were running behind schedule. Finally, everything was out of the apartment, loaded into two different Suburbans, and ready to be taken to the airport.

I hopped into one Suburban with two kids. My husband hopped into the other Suburban with two kids. One kid was in neither Suburban. We left her behind! Not only that, but we didn't realize she'd been left behind until she called! By then, we were more than halfway to the airport. As quickly as legally possible, we returned to the university to pick up our abandoned child. She was fine, though you could still see red splotches around her eyes from crying. Quickly I gathered her in my arms, wishing I could take away the fear and misery of the last 30 minutes, and then I cried.

By God's grace, everything worked out just fine, and now my daughter will have a story to tell. Hopefully this is the only story any of my children every have about being left behind!

Ode to a white paper bag

2006-07-12T22:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was given the privilege of a wild life cruise in Kenai Fjords National Park. My benefactor's investment was well rewarded as we watched a pod of Orcas dance in the water around our vessel, witnessed the majestic calving of a tidewater glacier, and enjoyed the unique elegance of humpback whales consuming their seasonal feast. It was truly incredible, and very memorable.

The cruise went quite well for most of the day, though the water was rough. I "surfed" the waves as the boat crashed from one crest to the next. I marveled at the beauty of God's creation, both in the water and surrounding it. Being several months pregnant, though, at one point I had to go into the small windowless space know in some places as a water closet. It didn't take long to take care of business, but it was long enough. Forgoing washing my hands (sanitizing wipes were available closer to windows and fresh air), I quickly exited that small windowless space, but not quickly enough.

Not even ten steps from the afore mentioned water closet, I realized I was in trouble! Having made it to a counter, my eyes settled on a thing of beauty; a spotless white bag with small clips at the top to seal it shut. I immediately grabbed a bag and put it to good use. Miraculously, a steward appeared; he took my used bag and handed me another. I put that bag to good use and we repeated the process. Then he took that bag and handed me yet another. Thankfully, all I deposited in the third bag was a well used paper towel. Then, with a voice only possible following such an event, I asked for some ginger ale, and headed outside.

The ginger ale and the fresh air had their desired effects, and shortly I was no longer feeling the effects of a small windowless space. In the process, I watched a huge humpback whale "dance" in the water, saw a cow and a calf (both whales) swim in unison, and again enjoyed the beauty of God's creation. I also learned a valuable lesson. NEVER spend time in small windowless spaces on any vessel in any kind of water, unless you like the feeling that requires a white paper bag with clips to seal it shut.

Parenting ins't for cowards

2006-06-29T14:49:00.000-07:00

I have five beautiful daughters. We have boxes of Barbies, Ponies, and Polly Pockets, pony tail holders and hair brushes galore. Having dealt with infants, toddlers, and preschoolers every day for the last several years, I have a pretty good idea how to handle the tantrums and traumas that occur on a daily basis when you have a house full of girls. Unfortunately, my older girls are no longer in the "infant, toddler, or preschooler" age group. They are entering the hallowed halls of adolescence.

Even though I grew up in a house full of girls, and I am a girl (well, ok; a little older than a girl), the finer points of leading girls through the traumatic transition to young woman is foreign to me! That became very clear today when my husband traumatized our oldest daughter by killing a bee.

The bee came in through the screen during lunch, and was looking for a way out of the house, without success. Each time the bee passed over the table, all five girls would scream and cower. Finally, deciding that the bee wasn't going to make it out on his own, my husband took action to care for and protect his daughters. He grabbed a notebook, took a stance like he was ready for a tennis serve, and waited. His first pass totally missed, and almost landed him on the floor. The second pass connected with the bee, sending the bee across the room before it landed on the floor. As soon as reality set in, our oldest daughter burst into tears.

Through her sobs, this girl who is becoming a young woman expressed her great distress at the senseless murder of a bee who never did anything to our family. As she ran sobbing to her room, her dad made a comment in his defense; though the bee didn't sting him, the bee's brother probably got him on the bu*t. A short time later, our oldest daughter returned to the dining room, only to reprimand her father for his insensitive comment about the bee's brother. To his statement that he was only joking, our daughter replied with the appropriate drama, "I'm not in a mood for jokes right now!" followed by more sobs.

Though our oldest daughter wasn't in the mood for jokes at that particular moment, she adjusted quickly. As I typed this, she was reading over my shoulder. At one point, we both were doubled over with laughter. This is definitely a new stage of parenting, and one I'm not sure I'm ready for. If I've learned anything in over 10 years of being a mom, though, it is most definitely that parenting isn't for cowards!

The End

Growing Pains

2006-06-23T14:30:00.000-07:00

I wish growing was a one-time deal. Like when you turn 10, or 21; you just are. The process is over. Or like how kids grow to a certain point and then stop. I'm 5'11" and I have been since I was 12. My sister is 6' and she has been that tall for years. We grew to a certain point and that was it. No more growing was necessary.

Unfortunately and fortunately, life isn't like that. Even though we may get physically mature, where no more growth or development is needed, emotionally, mentally and spiritually, no one ever arrives. We never stop needing to learn and grow.

While I have known this mentally, and never considered myself as having ''arrived" in any sense of the word, I have expected certain aspects of my person to get "grown." Just over three years ago, I began a journey of brokeness. Through it, I learned that the god I'd created in my mind was safe and behaved a certain way, but the God who created me ISN'T. I wrestled with the concept of a God who wasn't safe, who didn't do what I wanted, expected, or even what I felt was loving.

The wrestling was a painful process, brought about by bad theology. I thought God promised to fix up my mix-ups and make life feel good. I WANTED it to be that way. Then reality slapped me in the face; life didn't feel good, and God was the One behind all the pain. As God slowly rebuilt the foundation of my faith, I began to see Him in a different way. He wasn't safe, but He was good, and I could trust Him. One day at a time, my broken and battered heart began to beat again. Life began to hold beauty and blessing again. At some point I began to feel like everything was ok, that I'd passed through the valley of the shadow of death and grown past needing the rod and staff of my precious Savior. Boy was I wrong!

Life is a journey, and the journey alternately takes us through mountain tops, green alpine meadows, and dark valleys. Just because God carried me through one valley doesn't mean that I'm ready to trust Him to take me through the next one. Nor does it mean that the heartache is all gone. I still cry, easily, when I think about the journey I've been on and how painful it has been. I'm only beginning to realize that the journey I've been on is the journey I'm still taking. I'm not done learning, and I'm not done growing. I guess you might say I'm still having growing pains.

Righteous rags

2006-06-13T19:02:00.000-07:00

I have a not-even-three-year-old-but-very-independent-daughter. In the throws of yet another attempt at toilet training (this motivated by my neice who is four months older and using a big girl potty), my youngest daughter had an accident. Unable to coordinate all required, she went "poopy" in her panties. Undaunted, she stripped her panties off and very carefully rinsed them in the toilet, just like she'd seen Mom do.

Of course, not even being three, her technique was a little off. She successfully smeared the contents of her soiled undergarments all over herself, the toilet, and the bathroom! Then, she proudly announced her achievement.

Immediately I was struck with how often I do exactly the same thing. I make a mess in some part of my life and then try to clean it up on my own, with the same disasterous results. So often, I desire to be justified in my own efforts. I don't really want to accept that I have absolutely nothing to offer God - I am not righteous, I do not seek after God. I don't want it to be true, even though God says just that in Romans 3.

By doing all the right things, I think maybe I can some how earn God's favor. If I keep my house clean, educate my children well, fix dinner on time, eat healthy, take care of the enviroment, and read my Bible every day, somehow I will attain a certain level of rightness, if not righteousness. Then I'll have something to offer God in exchange for the forgiveness I've received through Jesus' death on the cross. Actually, the passage from Romans is quoting the Old Testament prophet Jeremiah, who describes our attempts at righteousness as something much more disgusting than what my daughter tried to wash out in the toilet!

None of us can offer God anything. His righteous standard must be met, but it can't be met by me. Jesus met God's perfect standard, and paid the price for all sin when He died on the cross. For those who accept God's free gift of salvation, the mess is cleaned up; the price of sin has been paid.

Some day my youngest daughter will know how to take care of her own messes. She may even get to the point where she doesn't make messes anymore. I will never be able to take care of my own sin; nor do I have to. Because Jesus has made my heart clean, my messes are cleaned up. When God looks at me He sees the perfect beauty of Jesus' righteousness, so I don't have to worry about cleaning up any messes ever again - at least not the kind I make when I choose to sin against God. The other kind, the kind kids make, well I'll probably be cleaning those up for a long time.

Mozzy memories

2006-06-13T18:44:00.000-07:00

Alaska: the land of the Iditarod; Mt. McKinley; eskimoes; igloos; and mosquitoes. Mosquitoes from this beautiful land have taken on mythical proportions, with jokes being made about the "Alaska state bird" actually being the mosquito instead of the willow ptarmigan. Though Alaskan mosquitoes are not really able to carry away small children, sometimes it seems like they might! Mosquito repellant, also known as "bug dope," sells in abundant quantities and varieties, as ineffective as it may prove to be.

Hearing about Alaskan mosquitoes and actually "experiencing" them are completely different. We found that out the hard way. On our day off, we were all set for a leisurely stroll along the trail at "Earthquake Park" in Anchorage. It wasn't a beautiful day, but it wasn't too bad; a little cool with cloud cover, but no rain in the immediate forecast. So, we set off.

The first clue we might experience a problem was when my husband got out of the "rig" (our vehicles in Alaska are unique, to be sure) and was immediately attacked by mosquitoes. Being the determined people that we are, we still unloaded everyone and headed towards the trailhead. Within minutes, my husband's back was literally COVERED with mosquitoes! Before we returned to the car, he was bit multiple times, even under his pantleg above his sock!

Though the constant buzzing and swarming was very annoying, it was not so distracting that I missed the hilarity of the moment. The site of my 6'5" husband and five daughters of various sizes hightailing it to the car with arms flailing was just too much!! I had to stop my own urgent escape of the pesky predators because I was laughing so hard! The novelty the situation was, however, lost on my husband. He did NOT share my perspective or my humor. He was worrying about how much blood he'd lost and whether he'd need an emergency transfusion!

In the end, everyone survived their close encounter with mosquitoes, and I have some hilarious memories of the adventure! Not everyone shares my perspective, but I'm sure that will change in time, once all the itching stops and the bumps have gone away.