1 Praying Mom

Up Late Reading

2012-02-05T08:48:00.001-05:00

Starting when I was in 5th grade, it was not unusual for me to stay up into the wee small hours of the morning reading.

I would get into my book and not be able to put it down. I would devour books. The summer after I graduated from college I did the same thing. One of my dear friends, M, sent me a bunch of mysteries and I bought others in the series.

This habit continued and was enabled by my first post-college job in a bookstore. (Sadly reading while working was frowned upon, but there was a generous discount.) I married a bookstore man so after I was out of the business he would feed my habit. (Hows that for enabling? lol)

To me there is nothing better than becoming engrossed in the story, getting to know the characters, and in a mystery, trying to solve the crime. I will say, if I do not like the protagonist, I find it difficult to read the book. I get tired of formulaic stories (if in a series the protagonist always ends up getting herself into danger, I get annoyed. A little common sense goes a long, long way with me.) and I am not into graphic gore, but if I can relate (or wish to relate) to the characters, I am hooked.

So last night I stayed up too late getting lost in Marybeth Whalen's book, She Makes It Look Easy, and I loved Ariel. It could be that I identified with her having 3 boys to my 5, it could be that she was a genuinely good person, but whatever the case I liked her. I enjoyed the plot too, because I can see how this can and does happen every single day. Most of all, I think Marybeth (is it too familiar to refer to the author that way, Mrs. Whalen sounds so formal?) did a great job of showing authentic life of a Christian wife and mother, not a caricature. Ariel isn't overly pious but she is faith-filled and I believed in her. I want to have coffee with her and chat, I want to laugh about smothering burnt toast in peanut butter and the things boys will do in packs.

As I was laying half asleep on the couch lamenting that my children only wish to sleep late Monday through Friday, I found myself thinking about the book and wishing, hoping, that she would make this into a series so I could get to know Ariel, her family, her friends and her neighbors better.

While I could have used a few more hours of sleep, this book brought me rest in other ways, much as I did all those years ago reading Nancy Drew as a preteen (because "tween" wasn't coined yet lol) or Diane Mott Davidson (still a favorite) in my early 20s.

Losing myself in a good story is a great way to relax and while I'm reading, if I'm reading the right things, I am able to come away focused, strengthened and renewed. So while I didn't get enough hours of sleep last night, I did get some rest.

I pray that you can find peace and rest in many different ways, in God and His word, in sleep and in other pastimes which can feed your mind and soul.

-Peace

I Am Never Enough

2012-02-04T12:04:00.000-05:00

Today I was praying quite emotional prayers, head down to the ground, just crying out to God. It was a conversation, an impassioned one.

I was crying out in fear. Fear of my own inadequacy. "God," I cried, "Please help me. I am trying to do everything I can but it's never enough." As I sobbed into the carpet, I heard the whisper, "I am enough, you can never be enough, but I am enough." He is enough. God is enough.

I am trying to give my fear to God, to see His provision, His strength and His sword-wielding skills as enough. (Yes, I do love that image, thank you, Lisa Harper.) But my human self tells me I need to be in control. The tough part is, that I cannot be in control of this. I can act, I can make efforts, I can do my best to respond, but control is not totally mine. I. Do. Not. Like. It. Not. One. Bit. It's very scary.

Wednesday night I had a dream that I had huge shards of glass in my neck and chest. It was symbolic of my pain and as I go through each day since then, I feel those shards still. It's unnerving. It is not of God to feel this sort of fear. It is not of God to feel this sort of doubt. This situation is not of God but of lies whispered by an evil one who is able to get into the cracks in hearts and minds of people, deceiving and distracting them from the great blessings of God.

I know that things could be so much worse than they are. I hope and pray it doesn't go down that path. I am doing my best to prevent it but I know I need to trust in others and in God to fight this battle alongside me. None of us is alone in this crazy world of whispers of hope and of deceit.

We can choose what we listen to and I am hopeful that the voice of Truth is loud enough to discredit the lies.

-Peace

2012-02-02T14:13:00.000-05:00

I think what you see in the picture, writing on my hand, may (does) qualify as distracted driving.

I was driving, listening to a pastor speaking on the radio (Not something I normally, do. Usually I like to sing along.) and he was talking about fear.

I am sure I've mentioned more than once that I tend to operate in fear mode a good part of the time. It is something I'm working on but I have been struggling with it a lot.

So the pastor said he was going to give 5 scripture verses that the listeners could write down and refer back to. I was at a red light, reached in my purse, found a pen (act of God in itself. LOL), and waited. The light turned green before he was done, so I admit to writing on my hand while driving. This also accounts for not being able to read all of the writing.

==================================================================
part two...because as I sat down to write about giving my fear to God more fully...
the phone rang and my life turned upside down and turning over fear to God became, "If I do not act, something really awful could happen." Fear became the driving force in my life.

Is this Satan taking a foothold? Maybe. I know there is a battle going on and I feel like a spectator without even the words to speak in prayer. I am reduced to the short phrase, "Please help!"."Get behind me Satan."

The other day in a devotion written by Lisa Harper (Lisaharper.net, "Marie Mondays") she wrote about remembering that God was the one holding the sword to slay the dragons. She has the best imagery. So I am here right now, trying to hang out behind God while he wields the sword and hope He's got it covered.

Right now I am struggling with it so if you have a few spare prayers...I'd appreciate them.

-Peace

People Like Me

2012-01-31T14:36:00.001-05:00

Today the Husband and I "had words". He said, "It's because of people like you..."

Ouch. That hurt. Mostly because I know he's right.

So being a mature woman, I ranted a bit then I self-righteously gathered up our newspaper recycling and said,"Goodbye." I said I was dropping off the recycling and just going out.

So now I type on my iPod from Panera. (Talk about time consuming on this tiny touchpad. LOL)

The issue? I don't like waves except in the ocean. He proudly tells the story of being at Shea Stadium as a child with his grandfather and his grandfather reprimanding teenagers tossing their litter over the railing. Absolutely right thing to do. Speak up.

Here's the thing, I cringe a little. I mean what if...

So while I care deeply about people and about social injustice and about wrongs done, the truth is I am a mouse about speaking up or out. Whistleblower probably would not be my nickname.

Not exactly a shining example of evangelism or faith. Sigh.

Convicted. Ashamed.

And yet, in my life when I have felt unsupported, forgotten, unprotected and without a voice, how alone and forsaken I have felt. When others reach out, speak out and respond in love and faith, I feel God's love soothing my broken soul.

It is people like me, afraid and silent, who miss the opportunities to be His hands and feet on earth. It is people like me who allow hurt and pain and affliction to go unchecked.

My fear becomes my millstone and it is tied around my neck, preventing me from living fully for Him and His glory.

I guess this post today is something of a confession. I admit my fear and now try to find ways to face and conquer, to change.

Do you ever struggle with speaking up? Do you see it as prudent or problematic? I think there is a balance and one must use wisdom.

There are times when speaking up is appropriate and necessary and required.

Lord, I ask you for the strength and wisdom to do what is right and good, and to never hesitate to do what will glorify You.

-Peace

I Read The Book and I Am Choosing to SEE

2012-01-30T10:58:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I started reading Mary Beth Chapman's book, Choosing to SEE.

On FB I posted this: "Amazing, heart-wrenching, humorous, inspiring, transparent, beautiful." I also mentioned a recommendation to be prepared with tissues and preparing to be changed.

The book is about a journey. There were parts where I laughed (cackled ?) out loud and also huge portions where I cried real tears, sobbing and wiping my eyes, sniffling. The death of the Chapman's 5 year-old daughter in a tragic accident is the center of this book but it is about a story that began before she joined their family and how this little girl's too-short life is still impacting the world today.

This isn't meant to be a review of the book, but I wholeheartedly recommend it. I was in awe of Mrs. Chapman's candor. I felt as though she was not jut saying the right words because it is what she should say as a Christian.

It is a realization of how blind I have been. Not only because I don't want to take for granted these moments in time, but because it is so very easy to lose sight of what is truly important, what is from God and where I am hearing (and internalizing) lies.

In so many books, I hear about this concept of "Choosing to SEE" how God is acting in our lives, in our world. Anthony DeMello writes of the need to "wake up" in Awareness. I'm sure there are other examples, other books, others who recognize that we must be open to the miracles, the love, the gifts, the Truth. Being open is a choice. It is not always as easy as working at it, DeMello warns against that. No, I think it is about opening one's heart and one's mind to the love surrounding us.

I do not think it will mean that life has less suffering, but if I am aware, if I am walking in faith, believing and following the Truth instead of being deceived by lies, I will see the blessings in the hardships, the gifts in the pain and the provision in the desert.

My passion is reignited. My soul is refreshed. I can see more clearly as I let go.

-Peace

I'm No Expert

2012-01-28T21:41:00.001-05:00

What makes someone an expert?

I can honestly tell you that like people are legends in their own minds, there are many who are experts in their own minds as well.

Now, I am not saying that there aren't people with specialized knowledge, exceptional insight or abilities that deserve our respect. I do believe that there are people who are more skilled, practiced or have more natural abilities. However, I do not think the word "expert" is one to be tossed around lightly.

For instance, as a mom of 6 beasties, some will jokingly say that I am an expert at the mom thing. I will quickly correct them. "Oh, no no no!" As my friend "K" (also a mom of 6) says, "The more children I have, the more I realize I don't know." She goes on to say something to the effect of, "When I had one I had all the answers. When I had two, I was still pretty boldly thinking I had this down. With each child, I realize there are not perfect answers for every issue with every child and that I don't know anything."

Do experts need to have all the answers? I think what makes a person most skilled (That almost came out as "most killed" because my "s" key is being difficult) is admitting they don't know all of the answers, or even recognizing that being an expert may not be the goal.

I have a lot of knowledge about many different things. Some of it I learned in a classroom, much of it through experience and my own inquisitive nature. I am hesitant, however, to ever suggest I have a definitive answer about most things. I think most of what I know is subjective, open to interpretation and bias. There is very little in this world which is so simple.

I know how I see things. I know what I believe to be true. I know my experiences. I know a lot of stuff but just because I've read it in a book or experienced it in my life, it does not mean it will be true for you. I just see too much gray in this world.

This could prove problematic. I mean, I wonder, do I have to be an expert in something in order to be of value as a writer? I don't know that I will ever feel expert at anything. I have opinions. I have knowledge and I guess wisdom, but am I an expert at anything? I am just a traveler on this road. I have love and knowledge, experience and viewpoints to share, but an expert? Not. So. Much.

As I was mending my 7 yo's pants today, I thought that I am even the "jack of all trades, master of few" mom and wife. I can do things but I am not an "expert" at anything. I am okay at the day to day stuff of life, but I don't see myself as excelling or an expert. (How's that for a glowing endorsement?)

Instead, I'm doing my best to fix the pants and hope they look "decent".

I try new things. I take risks. I share what I learn and I try to embrace the journey. My life is about the journey, the shades of gray, the trial and error, the risk and reward. I may not see myself as an expert and you don't really need to see me as one either, right? (Right?!)

I mean we all have our gifts and whether we are "experts" or not is immaterial (unless you're operating on my brain, in which case, I'd like you to be a highly experienced expert ;) ). What matters at the end of the day, I hope ;), is using our gifts fully and sometimes maybe we'll be experts but sometimes maybe we'll just be regular people doing our best to use the gifts we've got in the time we've been given with the people right in front of us, loving them where they're at.

I guess being an expert as a mom or mender of pants or of laundry would be fantastic. I don't know if it would make me more successful at loving the people in my life. Being an expert at loving people...I don't know if there is a way to measure it, and I know I'm not an expert at it, but I'd like to be. Just another way to try to do what Jesus would do.

-Peace

It's Mine All Mine.

2012-01-25T16:04:00.000-05:00

You know you want a piece of this. ^ It's mine all mine. (Although I might be willing to share it. ;) )

There are days (many, recently) when this sight makes me want to run screaming from the house to a nice, safe place where I can drink coffee from a paper cup in relative quiet and umm tidiness.

It's not that I do not love them or appreciate them. It's just that there are times ( too frequently lately, I confess) when the scene above is Just. Too. Much. I mean, the Lego blocks, the random papers, the mess and the noise (Oh the noise!) just wear on me. And it's an every day occurrence, the picture you see above.

Yesterday though, it didn't bother me. Not. One. Bit. I was relaxed and saw the joy and the gift in the chaos. I wasn't even counting down to bedtime in my head. (I did that Sunday.)

You can say, "You should be thankful for those children." You're right, I should be. And I am, mostly. You can say, "You decided to have all those kids." You're right, we did. You can say, "You might be sorry some day that you don't appreciate every moment you have." You are absolutely correct.

The truth is, I think we cannot fully appreciate all of our blessings in the moment. I think one of the gifts of hindsight is that we can see our blessings in new and different ways. Each night as I go to sleep, I reflect on the ways I could have and should have done things differently. Each evening I pray for patience, for guidance, for forgiveness and yes, for peace. I know that I need peace in my heart and mind in order to find peace in my day, especially in the midst of the chaos of daily life with 6 active, emotional offspring.

For whatever reason, I had a peaceful heart in the midst of that chaos last night and I saw my life in a different light. The scene above didn't make me want to tear out my hair or run from the house in the mom van seeking overpriced coffee in a paper cup. Nope. Last night I was able to go with the flow.

How tonight will go remains to be seen. I have hope though, hope that even if tonight's chaos makes me want to run (which I cannot do because the Husband has an evening out with the guys planned) there will be more days in the future where I am able to go with the flow...and I will be very happy that this is mine all mine.

-Peace

Cozy and Safe

2012-01-24T14:42:00.000-05:00

Aah comfort food. Yes, friends, this is a bowl of Campbell's vegetable soup, just like my mom used to make, err heat up, for me.

The difference between now and then is that I no longer drown a whole sleeve of defenseless (or indefensible?) saltines in the bowl.

Now, I know that if I made my own vegetable soup it would probably have less sodium and other stuff in it. (I'm not going to say anything negative so the Campbell's people come after me. ;) ) I know that vegetable soup is easy to make. In fact, I like making soup. It's just that sometimes a little taste of my childhood is comforting, particularly on a cold and dreary winter day.

I've been joking about my age a lot. I don't know why it bothers me to be getting older, but it does. I remember that I wanted to dance with my dad at my wedding to Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide". I've been afraid of changing because I've built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. I'm getting older, too. (Sadly, the band we hired didn't know the song and I had to settle. I just thought it was perfect.)

I'm getting older too.

I may not have had any gray hairs yet (woohoo!) and I don't have too many wrinkles, but I'm sure they're coming. (If I'm lucky.) Heck, undergarments that say "Age-defying support" are being marketed to me, that's just disturbing.

Anyway, sometimes I just want (or need) to feel like a little kid (or even 21) again, without the responsibilities that come with being a wife of one and mom to six. I want to feel protected, not like the impotent protector. I want to feel like all I need is a bowl of warm soup and some Sesame Street on the tube to have a good afternoon.

I guess part of getting older is learning to see the warmth and comfort in other places. Like Lisa Harper described at the Women of Faith event in November, resting in God is like relaxing into a pile of warm laundry. Isn't that a great image? I just love it and am so thankful I heard her description because every time I pull some clothes from the dryer I am reminded of God's love.

And you know what? As I am growing older, I recognize that my peace and comfort can only come from God. Childlike faith is all about believing in God and maybe that's one way I can work back toward my youth and relax a little bit because while I am an impotent protector, God is not. While I am craving warm soup and Muppets, God gives me the Living Word to warm my heart and feed my soul.

It's okay to remember my youth but important to remember that I am who I am because of my journey...and most importantly, I am who I am because He created me. I will be cozy and safe because of Him, and you will be too.

-Peace

A Soundtrack

2012-01-23T17:42:00.001-05:00

I write about music a little bit. I love to listen to the lyrics and sometimes I find bits and pieces that speak to my heart. I've mentioned that once or twice or... you get the picture.

Last night as I was driving, I thought about a soundtrack for my life. I didn't come up with a complete soundtrack. So many songs speak to me in part, but not in whole, and they have different meanings or associations at different times.

For instance, I don't identify with all of the lyrics from Adele's "Someone Like You" right now because, well, I'm married, not pining after some now married ex-boyfriend. I do love the song and her voice and one line spoke to me, Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste? There are things in life that are wonderful, beautiful amazing gifts, but they can have some "bittersweet" to them. I see it right now in my family and it makes me wonder, is the "sweet" worth the "bitter", is the payoff worth the pain? I just don't know, and the pain as a spectator (cracks in my heart) is pretty unbearable.

This morning I thought of the lyrics from "You Are More"... How did I get here? And I thought about how I got to where I am, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually....How. Did. I. Get. Here? As in right this minute, how did I get to the place where I am? A perfect storm of stuff got me to where I am. Some my choices, some other people's, but lots of stuff transpired to put me exactly where I am.

And then the Dixie Chicks' "Not Ready to Make Nice", It turned my whole world around, and I kinda like it. Because in that perfect storm of stuff that got me to where I am, I learned about myself and thought about things in new ways. I guess you could say I'm in a phase of self-discovery and redefining myself based not on what I "think" are other people's expectations of me but discovering what I want and need. (Is that part of getting *ahem* older, wanting to live my life based on my desires and beliefs rather than how people think I should live?)

Each of those songs could have a place on my soundtrack. I will find others to add, I'm sure. I'm certain that my soundtrack will be like a greatest hits with multiple volumes, various genres of music and a whole spectrum of emotions and experiences. I am trying to embrace it. I don't like music that's all sunshine and roses, it stands to reason my life won't be like that either.

What about you? What's your soundtrack like?

Enjoy the music. Sing along. Dance if you're moved.

-Peace

A Piece of My Heart..

2012-01-22T10:16:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, I started planning a weekend getaway Just. For. Me.

I started the planning in a time of calm, not when everything was crazy. (Usually I talk about "running away" in the midst of chaos and noise.) No, the Husband suggested a few weeks ago (when I was feeling the strain of the chaos and noise and talking about feeling like I could not "breathe".) that I plan a couple of days away by myself in the next month or two. (My angst was palpable, apparently, or my ranting was a huge hint. ;) )

So the other day we started talking about places and the 17 yo even suggested places I could go for a couple of days of R & R within driving distance, not too close and not too far. (He is my human GPS, don't you know?) The 10 yo wanted to know why he couldn't join me. (17 yo told him that totally defeated the purpose of mom getting away.) The 7 yo quietly walked to my side with the two pieces of paper in the picture above.

That is a picture of a heart...cut in two. The look on his face was absolutely heartbreakingly pitiful. Me going away would break his heart. Aaaw. I have gone away before. I went to MOPS convention in August and to a Women of Faith event in November, but for some reason me going away alone for two days to read, knit and lounge around on my own schedule was a very sad prospect for him.

(This morning I was thinking about that lounging around on my own schedule thing as I heard Miss M crying downstairs with the Husband and knew it was unfair that I was still lying in bed...when I am away I won't feel guilty because, hey, I'm not home to hear it. But I digress... )

I gave the 7 yo a hug and told him I loved him, told the 10 yo again, "No you cannot come with me," and placed the picture on the counter.. where I found it again this morning. And I was reminded, that these children who sometimes make me want to run from the chaos, love me and depend on me and are pretty awesome gifts I have been blessed with. They stretch me and teach me and I credit them with helping me recognize that life is not about absolutes, perfection or always knowing the answer, but that life is about the journey, the experiences, the shades of gray and learning what to do in the midst of...chaos.

I think it's safe to say that having children is like having my heart grow immensely and yet always be in pieces. I can't always fix and protect and calm and sooth and run defense for them so my heart is constantly cracking, but through it all, I can love them.

I have not yet picked a date or place for my getaway, but just knowing it's on the horizon helps me breathe a little bit. I know when I do go the beasties will be in excellent hands. (The Husband is much better in chaos than I have ever been.) I recognize that just as the boy's heart was in pieces thinking about me going away, my heart is always in pieces and it is going to be in pieces forever, that I cannot fix it all or always protect them, but I can love them.

Hmmm...where have I heard about that sort of love before?

Thank you God, for reminding me of that perfect love you give to me, a love I can never fully replicate but I will sure try to follow Your example.

-Peace

My Biggest Fan..

2012-01-21T13:23:00.000-05:00

Last night, I glanced in the mirror as I was leaving the powder room (Can I tell you that room has the harshest lighting?) and I saw the wrinkles, the lack of youthful, dewy complexion and I sighed. I looked all of my 41 years.

What's a woman to do? Post on fb about her plight, of course! Sometimes I look in the mirror and realize I look my age. Need to accept it but I don't have to like it.

Friends posted words of support. I wasn't fishing for compliments, but it sure was nice.

This morning, the Husband responded like this: Stacey- A little over 19 years ago a young woman walked out of the backroom of a bookstore- wearing blue walking shorts and cute tights - I thought I had seen the most beautiful woman in the world- until the next time I saw her and the next time...until I saw her again this morning- now she/you is/are the most beautiful woman in the world. The only age I see when I look at you is the "age of beauty"

Can I hear an "Aaaww."? What did you learn from that response, other than that I was a preppy dresser in my early 20s? Did you learn I have an adoring husband? I thanked him for being my biggest fan. He totally is.

A little later I was listening to Dixie Chicks as I got ready to greet the public (I did my hair and put on some makeup to liven up my 41 year-old skin. ;) ) I was singing along to "Wide Open Spaces" and I thought about all the ways the Husband has supported me in the past 19 years, encouraging me to go for dreams even when I doubt my own ability to achieve them. (He had just sat on our bed next to me giving me a pep talk, I wonder if he tires of that?)

One of the most amazing things he does is give me the space I need to grow. He accepts, affirms even, that I am not going to stay exactly the same as I was when we met. I wonder if that is the secret to being happily married for almost 19 years?

That and we can talk about anything. Anything.

Sometimes our conversations are unexpected, as a friend might say, they take some left turns, but they are honest and real. We've gone through some tough stuff, but the toughest times weren't related to money or vocation, they were times when we danced around the issues instead of talking them out. This is where our mutual love and respect grow and shine.

So to the Husband, I say thank you for giving me "Wide Open Spaces" to grow through this life, room to make big mistakes, and the support to follow my dreams. I pray that our kids, all 6 of them, see the love you give to me and use it as a model for their own lives, because it is in the space that we grow and learn and become more fully who we are created to be.

-Peace

Shower Prayers

2012-01-13T08:42:00.000-05:00

This morning I was praying in the shower. Can I just tell you it's the only room in this house where I'm always alone? As long as the door is closed and locked and oh yes, I do use that lock.

But I digress...

So the weather is, to quote Pooh, blustery. It is windy and snowing and the son drove to school. So I started praying for his safety driving today. Then I started praying for the safety of my other kids heading off to school on the bus, and then all the kids going to school and all the people driving and it started to snowball (no pun intended) until I was making blanket prayers for the safety of all people, everywhere.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It's just...that the reality of this world we live in says that someone, somewhere today is probably going to get hurt or sick or worse. I don't like it, but it's true. It doesn't mean my prayers weren't heard.

I was reminded in my snowball of praying as I shaved my legs, of two things.

One was a conversation in MOPS last week where a friend shared how sometimes she felt overwhelmed by the list of prayers she was saying, that she felt compelled to pray for so many people and places and needs that it sometimes felt like she would never be able to pray enough. That is sort of how I felt in my prayers this morning. I just wanted to cover everyone in prayer, not because my prayers were essential to their safety, but because I needed to share with God that I cared about people even those I do not know. Think of it like the way Abraham begged for the salvation of the righteous of Sodom and Gomorrah, convincing God to spare those who were "righteous". (Genesis 18:20 + ) While I'm not in the same league as Abraham, I do believe God hears all of our prayers and that He does answer. It just might not be the answer I prayed for.

The second thing I thought of was an Anne Murray song from my childhood,"A Little Good News". Basically it's about the awful news reports and sad stories, "Just once how I'd like to see the headlines say, "Not much to print today, can't find nothing bad to say because, nobody robbed a liquor store on the lower part of town. Nobody ODd, nobody burned a single building down, nobody fired a shot in anger, nobody had to die in vain. I sure could use a little good news today...How I want to hear an anchorman talk about a county fair, and how we cleaned up the air, how everybody learned to care..."

We all pray for these things, the good news. And the Good News is that God brings us closer to that. He frees us to work toward those things, both through our prayers and through our realities. When we see the hurt and pain we have a choice, we can pray and ask for guidance and we can go out and do something to be His hands and feet in this world, to bring good news and the Good News to those we meet. We can impact our world in positive ways, through prayers and actions, through love and compassion, through hard work and yes, even through shower prayers.

Lord, may I remember to pray without ceasing throughout the day, to speak out in compassion and love and to remember that in all things you are present.

-Peace

Do Not...

2012-01-12T21:43:00.000-05:00

Have you ever heard those stories of people who would open the Bible and follow whatever the particular verse their finger hit for that given day? I heard one where someone happened upon "Go out with joy" and decided that meant he should ask a girl he knew named Joy out on a date. I guess we should be thankful he never hit upon "Pluck out the eye that causes you to sin"....

Now I'm not saying the Bible isn't applicable today. It is. In fact, I can open my Bible and find something to speak to me on any given day. It fits. But I have never felt compelled to pluck out my eye or wear sack cloth and ashes. (I did tell the husband after the van's engine went kerflooey (A highly technical term) and the oldest son totaled the car that if the wind storm we were having knocked a tree down on the new-to-us van, I was totally in sack cloth and ashes mode. I was so there!)

One of my goals for this year is to read the whole Bible. I have tried many times but I always get stuck and behind and never can catch up. This year I bought a One Year Bible and it breaks down the readings so that each day I read something from the Old Testament, something from the New Testament, something from Proverbs and something from the Psalms. So far it has been easy peasy, lemon squeezy to stick with. But more than that, every single day, I find something that speaks to me on that day.

This morning, I read Matthew 9: 13 b For I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners. That one I can handle. I can totally identify with the sinner thing. I struggle with it. I own it and I hate it and yet... I am a sinner and it makes me feel unworthy and I wrote about that feeling of being unworthy and voila, I read this verse and I was reminded that God calls sinners and humble people, not those who believe they are perfect. In fact in the verse prior Jesus says Healthy people don't need a doctor, sick people do.

Can I hear an, "Amen!"? How about, "Thank you, Jesus!"?

I mean, seriously, when I am reminded of this I feel...relieved. I spend so much time feeling the sting of every mistake, every misstep, every sinful thought and deed and the guilt I feel from the sins separates me from God even more than the sins do, because in my shame I turn farther from God, farther from prayer, farther from...who I am called to be. The sin becomes a reason to stay in the same place instead of moving forward with life and goals and dreams...and calls to use the gifts given by an amazing, grace-giving God.

If you feel that way, like you can't move forward remember God calls the sinners. Of course, now that we are all up on preventative health care, I recognize that I can prevent some of my sins by making choices that aren't going to get me in a bad place, but when I get there, God doesn't turn his back on me. Instead, He sees my need for Him and He welcomes me, if I let Him, if I am not so busy beating myself up that I don't see His open arms.

For this I say, "Amen!" and "Thank You, Jesus!"

-Peace

Soul or Control?

2012-01-10T23:37:00.000-05:00

Warning: there may be some words in this video which are not little ear friendly. It's one word but it's a "biggie"

(Did you see the warning above before pressing play?)

..Then one day you awake with a fear you can't shake you're an actor forgetting your lines.
(All italicized words are lyrics from Strata "Stay Young")

Sometimes I feel like that, like I'm playing a role but I'm getting it all wrong. I'm not saying the right things. I'm missing my cues. I'm flailing.

In the times when I'm flailing, I feel that "fight or flight" response kick in and my gut reaction is to fly. I want to escape. That is not always the best choice and certainly not the best example to set, but isn't our goal usually to lessen our discomfort and anxiety?

There are constants like gravity, heartbreak and shame. You can never outrun them they're part of your name, like lessons you learn from a past you can't change.

I love this line. How true is this? Gravity is NOT my friend at age forty-mumble. Heartbreak...I had my share and now apparently I also feel the heartbreak of my offspring in technicolor. (Isn't that special?) Shame...yeah, how many things do I feel shame about? I have a multitude of issues I feel shame about. Some from the past and some recent. They are what they are. I'm not giving you a laundry list here, but God already knows and I'm working on avoiding repeat offenses although I am sorely tempted and frequently blow it.

But it is part of me, a part I cannot change. The Husband reminds me that my unchangeable past makes me who I am today and that who I am today is not so bad. He also accepts the mistakes I make today pretty well. Again, he accepts who I am, even when I totally blow it...again. I learn from the lessons and I am changed and yet...I'm still me. (And can I just tell you he accepts me much better than I accept myself?)

Do you still remember your very first kiss or the future you hoped for when we were still kids?

Yes, yes I do. I remember that kiss. I remember thinking I could plan out my whole life, too. (Including two kids, a boy and a girl...bwahahaha) and I expected I could just have the life I planned out, that it would just fall into place. Not. So. Much.

Don't lose your heart, don't lose your soul, don't give up control.

When things don't work out, when I feel like I'm flailing and would like to run, sometimes I lose heart and I wonder who I am deep down. I wonder if in the mistakes, I've sold my soul and I certainly never want to give up control. I think I have to fix it and I cannot fix it if I let go of the control. Umm yeah. Did you read the post I wrote right before this one? I stink at letting go of anything, well not stuff, I will toss anything. ;) I just feel like I'm supposed to do something. Sometimes the best thing to do is give it over to Him and pray.

I realize that either I give up control or I give up my soul, I can't hold on to both...and trying....just leaves me with a broken heart.

I pray that we can find the balance between control and letting go, that we can stay young in our hearts and minds and souls and have that childlike faith that allows us to fully trust in Him.

-peace

On My Knees, Turning it Over...or Not.

2012-01-10T13:39:00.000-05:00

Being a mom drops me to my knees daily. It's in prayer..brought on frequently by fear, despair or frustration.

So often I try to find the solutions myself. I want to anticipate and wrap the kids in some sort of protective covering that will stop the hurts, physical and emotional. I try to anticipate their disappointments so I can either prevent them or warn them. It sort of takes a little (or a lot) of the joy out of life to live this way, but I am a woman consumed by fear and worry. I try that magical thinking game, "If I worry about it, it will not happen. If I am a good enough mom, I will have kids that are successful and happy and always free of pain."

Every day I pray that God will wrap my children in a hedge of protection. I have discovered that the hedge does not stop them from getting hurt feelings, a bad grade or a skinned knee. I cannot prevent the hurts of life even if I get them to follow the rules, do their best, look both ways when they cross the street and mind their manners.

I would just like to ask right now, how is it that I can try my hardest to protect them and yet they still get hurt? How fair is that? Come on!

Umm...yeah. I caught that. I try my hardest. I turn to prayer in the midst of the pain and yet, I still want to cover it myself. I don't pray and turn it over to God. Nope. I give it to God but I still keep a grip on it. I guess I don't trust him to cover it the way I envision. I mean, my plan is probably superior to His even though His plan is superior, right? Even though He can use everything for good. Even though He loved them before I even knew them with a perfect love only He can have.

How ummm perfectly, humanly, stubbornly wasteful of me.

This is my struggle. Turning it over and letting it go and believing He's got it covered without me. I haven't mastered it yet. I keep trying. I will keep praying; for peace, for protection, and for umm the ability to give it over to God.

-Peace

"I'm Gonna Love You With My Life"

2012-01-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

Don't you love it when you come across a great song totally by chance (or Godwink)? I love the lyrics to this song, Getting Into You by Relient K.

How many times do people ask us, "Do you know what you are getting yourself into?" For so many reasons and in so many ways we ask it and people ask us.

When I made up my mind and my heart along with that to try to live not for myself but yet for God somebody said, "Do you know what you are getting yourself into?"

Nope! How often in my life have I thought I had all the possibilities worked out only to be surprised. In those times, I can only lean into God.

When I finally ironed out all of my priorities and asked God to remove the doubt that made me so unsure of all these things I ask myself. I ask myself, "Do you know what you are getting yourself into?"

Priorities. I think I have them figured out and then the sparkly things in life distract me and the next thing you know, I'm not quite living for God anymore. And doubt... I am full of it. Not doubt about God, doubt about my ability to utilize the gifts He has given to me and my ability to serve Him.

And here's the line that speaks to my heart and soul and fears and doubts....

I've been a liar and I'll never amount to the kind of person You deserve to worship You. You say You will not dwell on what I did, but rather what I do. You say, "I love you and that's what you are getting yourself into."

I feel that kind of conviction, the sense of being unworthy to worship God, or to use the gifts He gave me. I feel like a big, fat phony. I can talk the talk and even walk the walk sometimes but there are other times when I feel like a crummy mom and wife and well a very unworthy child of God. (I am very good at judging my actions and seeing all the faults and failings. Is that a gift, because I use that one all the time?)

But God does say He will forgive and He does. God loves us. I believe that in my heart but my mind plays tricks on me. This morning on the radio I heard someone talking about how sometimes we cannot rely on our feelings about God. We must believe and trust His word even when our feelings suggest we are unworthy and unlovely, even when our situation or our behavior surely suggests something other than a God who loves and forgives and is with us, even in the midst of the crummy times and times when we don't live up to God's ideal for us.

And you know what? If God our creator can forgive us, who are we not to forgive?

I'm getting into You because You got to me in a way words can't describe. I'm getting into You because You've got to be essential to survive. I'm gonna love You with my life.

I've been a liar and I'll never amount to the kind of person you deserve to worship You.

I pray we all can make peace with who we are, who we've been and achieve a close approximation of who we strive to be.

-Peace

Makin' Angels

2012-01-07T21:32:00.001-05:00

The snowfall totals in my neck of the woods have been lackluster.

Downright paltry.

It leads the children to do things like this:

They were desperate to sled. Can you tell?

And then today, it was in the mid 40s. All of the white stuff is melted. So very wrong.

My kids, however are resourceful and creative sorts.

Do you see it there in the mud? Do you see the mud angel? You've heard when life gives you lemons, make lemonade and apparently, my 4 yo thinks when life gives you mud...make an angel.

It could have been so much worse, don't you think?

Lord, today I thank you for creativity, resilience and patience. Thank You, Lord for your patience with me as I am not always good at giving you my stuff and leaving it with you.

Praying that you see angels in your snow and mud and rain. Today, I saw one in the mud and it was amazing. :)

-Peace

Side-effects

2012-01-06T15:23:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I see the commercials for prescription medications on television and when they speak in hushed tones about the possible side-effects I wonder if the medication is worth it.

Yesterday I took some migraine medication and we ended up reading the pamphlet, err the Husband read it and I listened for matching symptoms accompanied by phrases like "seek immediate medical care. The beauty of the medication is my migraine went away. The problem was I became incredibly weak and anything touching my skin hurt like the dickens (including the tender kiss of my 4 yo who actually gave a tender kiss,not a tackle hug.).

Fortunately, I did not experience a heart attack (possible side-effect) nor did I get a headache (another side effect), to which the Husband asked, "Isn't this medication to get rid of your headache?" or even nausea.

The side-effects were odd but not frightening and while the pamphlet was full of doctor-ese making me want to ask a medical professional friend to decipher it for me. I apparently didn't require medical attention. (At least I didn't seek any and I'm writing to you today, so let's assume I am fine.)

Side-effects can be minor or major. They can be a wrinkle in the day or a major event in life. Sometimes we have to weigh the possible side-effects versus the expected benefit.

With medications, we usually can read (or attempt to translate) the side-effect information and be warned of the possibilities. Often in life we can anticipate some of the side-effects (aka consequences) of our behavior and weigh the outcomes. However, sometimes we are faced with what the Husband refers to as unintended consequences (the things you do not anticipate biting you on the backside).

When we are experiencing side-effects, we can learn from them. In this case, I will think about how bad my head really hurts before taking a pill because either way, I will be out of commission. I didn't know this from reading about possible side-effect, only from my experience.

My experience in life has been that I can try to anticipate every possibility and even keep my expectations low but things will not usually happen just as I expect or plan or rehearse them in my head. Only hindsight is 20/20.

Thankfully, no matter how it shakes down, no matter what the side-effects are or whether I anticipate them or not, I can count on God to be right there with me and you and all of us.

Lord, thank you for walking through all the side-effects in life with us.

-Peace

Mirror,Mirror On the Wall...

2012-01-05T17:12:00.000-05:00

I am not the fairest of them all. I don't need a mirror to tell me that or to tell me who is.

I am not the smartest, most fashionable or wittiest. I am not sure I am the most anything.

Yesterday at MOPS (Mothers Of PreSchoolers if you don't know and have wondered every time you've seen me mention it before) I said how I tell my kids I wished they could see themselves the way we see them and a friend ~E~ suggested we would all benefit from seeing ourselves through other's eyes.

She has a point. I don't know how other people view me and I bet there are a lot of opinions about me that I don't want or need to know. It is none of my business, I've said before, what people think of me. However, there are times when seeing ourselves through another's eyes could be beneficial.

What if we could see ourselves through another person's eyes; not their opinions or judgments, but ourselves, our good and bad, the things we do well, and the things that are not so great, the gifts we don't recognize and the flaws we are unaware of?

What if I could say, "Mirror , mirror on the wall...?" Would I listen with an open heart and mind and grow in humility and confidence or would I bring poisoned apples to those who were better or break the mirror? Would I give equal credence to the positives and the negatives? I tend to shrink the positives until they are microscopic and I inflate the negatives to the size of a hot air balloon.

What if the mirror I looked in was one of God's grace? What if instead of seeing myself through a mirror of human reality, I was able to look at myself as forgiven, saved, precious and valuable because I was created by God for a purpose? Better yet, what if when I was looking at others, I looked at them through that lens of God's grace instead of my opinions, judgments, irritations and yes, crankiness?

Mirror, mirror on the wall, help me to see a world of beauty God created, not the imperfections that sin emphasizes. Lord, help me to see the truth and not be deceived by fun house mirror reflections.

-Peace

Enough

2012-01-04T14:31:00.001-05:00

The other day I was making a cake and I went in the drawer looking for my favorite spatula.

It's nothing fancy, but it works the best and it's cute. I have another rubber spatula but it's too soft and doesn't work well for scraping the side of the bowls. I found myself thinking, I really need to get more of these. And then I stopped. Literally stopped as in stood still, holding the prized gadget in my hand and in my mind I rephrased my statement. I would like more of these but do I really need them? No.

This one great working spatula is enough.

How many other things in life do I think I need more of? Think is the key word. What I think is not necessarily reality, but how I perceive reality. Big difference.

Life would be easier with another spatula, I could argue. Maybe. But that is one more gadget in the drawer and I wonder if I would still reach for the happy snowman spatula I received for Christmas in 2008. Life would be easier with more money. Would it? How many people win the lottery and end up miserable.

Life would be easier if... fill in the blanks we can find all sorts of ways our current situation could change.

But we don't make one change in a vacuum, do we? If I change X then it will impact Y. (This from a self-proclaimed mathphobe..but I did love science...) Perhaps sometimes instead of always wanting more, better, different, it is more appropriate to be content, to allow ourselves to experience a situation fully rather than seek to tweak it.

As happens to me frequently, in that moment where I literally stopped and asked myself if I needed a spatula, I thought of a Bible verse that has nothing to do with food or cooking but everything to do with having enough.

2 Corinthians 12:9, But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (NIV)

I don't need more of anything else because with God's grace, what else is there to need?

If only I could be that satisfied, content and appreciative of all that I do have. Instead, I want another this and more of that. More and different would change the current situation and perhaps in that change whatever unrest I felt would go away? If I let myself be still, accepting and content, there might be times of anxiety or frustration. (What if I need to use the spatula and it's dirty? Gasp! I would have to wash it..by hand.)

My challenge in life right now is to relax into the knowledge that I can choose to trust in God and His grace to provide rather than trying to fill my life with widgets which will only get in the way. I can choose to pray and believe and accept that I have a purpose and that God can use all for good and that yes, His grace is sufficient for me.

May you also feel that freedom to trust that there will be enough of what you need.

-Peace

Snow Country Dreamin'

2012-01-03T13:46:00.000-05:00

I live in an area maligned for its weather. Whenever the Bills play and the weather is cold and ahem snowy, the announcers highlight the area's weather like it's a bad thing.

I have to tell you, I grew up in the Adirondack mountains and the cold and snow make me happy.

This year, the Snow Miser has been noticeably absent from my scene and it has made me and the rest of my little family sad. We have waited for the forecaster's predictions of snow only to be disappointed. Sunday night and Monday they were predicting we might get 4 - 8 inches of the glorious frozen whiteness...we got a dusting. This morning we woke up to a couple of inches. The snow band went south of us. (I need to move south to get snow...)

When I was a little girl, I would go to sleep imagining I was camping in the wilderness or something like that as I went to sleep. I was always pretending something, being a mom or a doctor or one of Charlie's Angels, so I guess pretending to be camping out under the stars wasn't so odd. (It wasn't!)

Last night I wasn't pretending, but as I drifted off to sleep I thought about how wonderful it would be to be falling asleep in a more rural setting, more snowy and more self-sufficient. I thought about how I would love to spend my days knitting, sewing, cooking and homeschooling, wearing cozy sweaters and wool socks (that I knit myself. :) ) and working toward common goals as a family. I'm sure in my mind I romanticized the self-sufficiency a little (or a lot).

The truth is, cold weather and snow inspire me to create and dream and embrace life. Maybe the cold makes me more snuggly or maybe I'm just a cold weather type woman. In the heat of summer, I'm crabby and sluggish. In the winter, even with less sunlight, I am energized by the brisk air, the crunch of the snow and the quiet of a world wrapped in white. (And my allergies aren't going haywire either. ;) )

I know that we should all bloom where we are planted. I love the cold and snow and while my situation isn't exactly what I dream about, it is close enough. (I can knit and cook and play in the snow with my beasties, even if I'm not in a secluded cabin.) If we had to, I would find a way to make the best of a more temperate climate, but it would not be something I would choose.

However...I'm dreamin' of a little more snow, so if someone could direct the Snow Miser this way, I would be grateful.

-Peace

Tub Scrubbin' Monday

2012-01-02T14:48:00.000-05:00

That's right, Monday is officially bathroom cleaning day in our house.

Aren't you so excited to know that? I could have taken a picture of myself wielding the toilet brush but I didn't have a camera or my ipod handy. (Sounds unsanitary.) I know it's sad for you, but buck up and just imagine it.

Last night I sat down with some paper and made a list of all the little things I want and need to accomplish in a day, a week and a month and then I applied them to my handy dandy handmade chart.

Just making the chart made me a little bit twitchy, not the drawing it up with my trusty ruler and mechanical pencil. No, it was the actual act of assigning chores and actions to times that made me pause and umm wonder if I really want to do this.

The truth is I'm not so sure I want to have a list of tasks for each day, but instead of lamenting what I don't get done, I decided to take a little responsibility and see what I can get accomplished each day. I penciled in chores and exercise, making menus and cooking meals. I wrote in hitting the ~~instrument of torture~~ treadmill and I wrote in homework and have not planned anything for my MOPS mornings.

Most importantly, I planned time with the littles who are not in school, time I will be sure to do crafts and activities with them. That sounds bad doesn't it, that I have to make a note to do that? It's not that I don't usually, but that part of living my life more intentionally is recognizing the things I value and making sure I do them. Too frequently I go to bed and realize the missed opportunities, the games not played, the crafts undone, the laughter not shared and all because I am distracted and wasting time.

Tub Scrubbing Monday is symbolic of the new goals and the new plan and the desire to live intentionally and well. It is the desire to do the small things I do for my family faithfully and to the best of my ability.

Luke 16:10 states, "If you are faithful in small things you will be faithful in large things." My goal is to be faithful in the little things because they all add up to the big things, which is the life I have been given.

Can I tell you how good it feels to site here typing, in my apron, barefoot at my kitchen counter while chocolate chip cookies cool, knowing my bathrooms are sparkly clean? It feels awesome. Maybe all I need to get out of my funk is to do the little things.

-Peace

My 2012 Theme..

2012-01-01T13:48:00.001-05:00

This morning I decided that this song, "Do Everything" by Steven Curtis Chapman, should be my theme song for 2012.

If I do this, do everything I do for the glory of the One who made me...I will be on the right track, or at least heading in a better direction.

I started off the new year with a new One Year Bible and the plan to read it every day. I like that it has readings from the Old Testament, New testament, Proverbs, and Psalm each day. I like that I haven't missed a day yet.

I have been reading online about different schedules people follow to get their lives organized. I need that. It will help me stop feeling like I'm in crisis mode all the time. I do laundry every day and dishes (well, the Husband does most of the dishes), but there are other chores I don't do frequently enough and I waste a lot of time that could be better spent so I need to get my act together.

My goals for the coming year are to stay on track with the One Year Bible, to do the treadmill daily (fell off that wagon), get the house more organized through schedules and planning and to just see the gifts in each day.

One of those gifts is connecting with you here. I hope to write more and to here from you more. (I love feedback and I love hearing your perspective, too.) I hope to write more on some other projects, too which is one of the reasons I need to become a better manager of the 24 hours I am given each day.

More than anything, I hope to do everything I do to please God. It really isn't complicated but it can be difficult to recognize that what I want may not be pleasing to Him nor is it truly beneficial to me or anyone else in the long run. What we do, in the little and big things, really does matter. We touch so many people and we don't even realize our impact. I pray that I make more positive impacts than negative.

I pray that 2012 is full of gifts and opportunities and blessings for you and me and all of us. May we love each other as He loves us.

"..Do everything you do for the glory of the One who made you, cuz He made you to do every little thing that you do to bring a smile to his face, tell the story of grace with every move that you make.."

-Peace

The End and The Beginng

2011-12-31T09:38:00.000-05:00

Today we celebrate the birth of our second child (and son) 12 years ago. He's an amazingly imaginative and resilient boy, quirky and sweet when he's not being well, a tween boy. ;)

So we celebrated the end of 1999 with the birth of a baby a new beginning for our family. It was very cool.

We will celebrate with some gifts and the dinner of his choice (a buffet of the family's favorite appetizers and finger foods- chicken wings, potato skins, mozzarella sticks, other various and sundry heart-unhealthy choices).

It is also a day when I look forward to a new year of new things. I never did get to sit down and work on that plan of attack for the coming year. I've thought about it and I've discussed, vaguely, some of it with the Husband but I didn't put it down on paper.

I'm not a big fan of the talk show people who tell us all that if we just put it down on paper we have more likelihood of making it happen, but I do believe that being intentional and having a plan is going to be more effective than saying, "I'd like to do ____." and expecting it to miraculously happen. I can't just wiggle my nose a la Samantha Stevens and expect magic.

I can prayerfully consider and I can ask for God's wisdom and guidance, His intervention and help even, but even prayer requires action on my part. I have to take that step.

I think, in a nutshell, my main goal for 2012 is to become more intentionally prayerful.

So if I have to make one and only one resolution, one new beginning, it is to become more intentional about my prayer life, to schedule it and to make it a priority.

Wishing you an amazing day and a blessed New Year!

-Peace

Planning Ahead...Sort Of

2011-12-30T08:11:00.001-05:00

I'm planning ahead, sort of.

I am not huge on New Year's Resolutions (NYR). I don't need a calendar page to make a change and I think it is entirely possible that the only NYR I have ever kept is, "I probably won't keep this NYR."

However, the new calendar and the 1st day of the year seems like a good time of the year to begin new things, if you like beginnings and need to prepare yourself for the change to come and want a fresh start with the new year.

That being said, I have decided that I need some organization and prioritization in my life. I have been thinking about it. I have lamented my new-found disorganization and I think I've written about how I feel that I have been dealing with things last minute, in crisis mode, rather than planning ahead and being prepared. This is not a good feeling for me and it has prevented me from doing things the way I want to do them.

In the midst of preparing for the second son's birthday (tomorrow) I would like to sit down with a notebook and plan out what I want to change in the coming year, what I would like to do differently and even what I would like to accomplish. I hope to make a schedule for myself, too. I ~~spend~~ waste a lot of time being unproductive and time is one of those commodities you never get back.

I'm not going to lie, I also live in the hope that becoming more focused and organized will help 2012 go more smoothly and be more successful that 2011, which while not tragic had some rough spots, found me facing some demons and feeling more distracted and out of sync than I have in a long time. A. Very. Long. Time.

So today, in the midst of the birthday prep and the children acting their age, I hope to sit down and prayerfully consider what I would like to do to change me in the coming year and to not shy away from setting goals and committing to keeping the ones that are in my control. Falling off schedule is not a reason to give up but an opportunity to start again. If I prayerfully consider what I would like to, and need to do, if I listen with a quiet and open heart, if I remember that I can do many things if I let God be my guide, if I stop letting my old habits limit me, I will make some positive changes.

I am planning ahead for the New Year, hoping to make some positive changes to my life. I am planning ahead fully understanding (and struggling to accept) that God's plans and mine may not be the same. (That's the "sort of", the recognition that my plan and His may not be in sync, I feel like that has been my life for the past few years.) If I focus on prayerful planning, perhaps I will be on His page.

-Peace

Spirit

2011-12-27T14:56:00.000-05:00

I guess it's stereotypical to think the conversation flows when aided by spirits, tongue loosening agents like "adult beverages". It's true, that lessens inhibitions.

Today though, I think it was the spirit of friendship and a willingness to be vulnerable which allowed the conversation to flow. Over latte and hot chocolate, three women talked and shared and laughed and were honest ... and it was good. Well, it was good for me to be able to say to people, "Sometimes I feel ____" ... and have them say, "I get that." and I felt supported but not like they were judging or trying to tell me I shouldn't feel my feelings or even how I could fix them. Instead, they affirmed my feelings and in doing so, they showed me grace and love (even if they didn't realize it :) ).

We were present and authentic and I am so very thankful for the opportunity to share in that time.

It started me thinking about how frequently in the past year I have had conversations with women who are reaching out, trying to build connections and close relationships with others. We're all floating around each other but I suspect never quite sure how to make the leap from acquaintance to friend we can call to chat with on the phone, or have lunch with or to say, "Sometimes I feel like ___."

I think most of us want the same thing. Sure there are some who have plenty of friends already and cannot spare a minute for another friend, but I think most of us would love to have a few more people to share this crazy life with.

My question for you (yes, YOU) is do you feel that way, like you need the connections and cannot seem to get from acquaintance to close friendship? What would it take for you to be vulnerable enough to say, "Will you be my friend?" or not to say that but to start inviting and chatting and saying, "Hey, want to do lunch or coffee or a movie?" I've written about this before here. Obviously, it's still on my mind. I have made headway, and yet, I still feel awkward about reaching out. I still wonder why would someone want to be my friend?

It is a spirit of love that encourages these relationships and this understanding. It is a spirit of empathy that allows us to sit together and "get it". It is a spirit of compassion that makes us care about others and want to hear their stories and share in their lives. I think all of these are born of The Spirit, born of God and the commandment to love others as He first loved us, even when it's not easy or convenient, but gritty and emotional and real.

This has been a gritty, emotional year for me. I have learned to reach out and ask for the support and friendship I desperately need. I hope that I am able to respond in kind; to be available enough and approachable enough that if someone reaches out I respond as a true friend. I am learning to be vulnerable and it can be scary, but it has also shown me that I can trust other people.

I am working at being more authentic and I truly believe that if we all could be "real" and honest we could be much better friends to one another. (Not with, to, big difference.) It isn't easy and it might not always be safe and I think we need to be careful judges about who we share our "stuff" with, but if we are building a friendship, perhaps we need to let the Spirit be our guide.

-Peace

None of My Business.

2011-12-26T17:30:00.002-05:00

"It is none of my business what other people think of me."

I've seen it attributed to many people so suffice it to say, I heard it somewhere and I believe they are words to remember. It's not always easy to fully embrace the sentiment, though.

Recently I heard about something said about the Husband and myself to other people who know us and I felt hurt and incredibly angry. I found myself wishing I could set the people who heard this adjusted sense of reality straight lest they believe the stories being told.

While there are three sides to every story and perspective changes everything, the way I heard the story and the way it happened (from our perspective) are very, very different and actually paint quite a negative picture. I imagined the listeners making judgments and thinking badly of us.

And then I thought of the saying, "It's not of my business what anyone else thinks of me." and while I still feel bothered, I realize this is not a battle in which it is worthwhile to engage. People will believe what they want and they can consider the source....or not. (shrug)

Calling someone on their adjusted sense of reality is usually akin to banging your head against a wall and I have tried banging my head on this particular wall before and gotten nothing for it but a nasty knot on my head and a splitting headache.

Whether other people know the truth or not, God does. Sound cliche? I guess it is, but really, people are going to judge or make assumptions and we are all human and see things through the filter of their own biases and experiences. When I can accept that I have biases, make assumptions and that some people are better at pushing my buttons, I can more freely accept that, "It's none of my business what anyone else thinks of me."

I pray that we can all find peace in the knowledge that everyone has their own "side" and perception and that the only thing that matters is that we do our best to live out God' commandment to love.

-Peace

Broken but Thankful

2011-12-24T13:59:00.000-05:00

See that broken cookie, yeah that's me. Not in the broken because I am human and by definition all humans are sinful and broken.

Broken because it's been a rough few years and we've been putting a brave face on but today something happened that highlighted how we're keeping life together with paperclips, chewing gum and the stray piece of duct tape.

I cannot express with words how grateful I am to the friends and family and church family who have been carrying us through this but there are times when it gets overwhelming to not be able to just do things as they should be done.

This morning my oldest boy went out with the car. No problem. Right? Until the phone rang and the same boys said, "Mom! I was in an accident!" Want your blood to turn to ice water in your veins? Get that phone call. Thank God he is okay. Shaken up and the car has some damage and he didn't get a ticket BUT...the kicker, the thing that highlights how we're keeping it together (or not so much) is that the reason for the accident is that the car's tires were unsafe. The Husband was planning to buy new tires next week. Now not only do we need to buy new tires, we need to come up with the deductible and... we could have lost our son.

God provides. He watched over our son and kept him safe. He has provided for us through the tough times and continuing tough times. I always say God has a plan and we don't always know or understand. I just wish...I wish that His plans were a little more in line with mine, with what I think of as normal.

I am thankful for all God has done for us and I will praise Him through it all. Can you do me a favor? Can you just pray for our family? It would mean a great deal.

Lord, as we prepare to welcome Your son, I am thankful I still have all of mine here with me. Thank You!

Merry Christmas from one broken but praying mom.

-Peace

My Wish...

2011-12-22T11:44:00.000-05:00

On that social networking site which shall remain nameless, I saw a question from tonic.com. the question was something to the effect of "If Santa materialized in front of you, what would your one wish be?"

Hmmm.

Material things are nice but I don't know if even his magical bag is magical enough to hold a new house in the country with a big yard. The Husband is currently in negotiations for a new (to us) van to replace the one that died on the side of the road Tuesday so that is no longer at the top of my list and I cannot think of anything else to wish for for myself.

I guess the key is that I don't think Santa can give me the things I really wish for any more than I believe that if Santa takes the year off because he has a cold and he's in a snit because he thinks we've all lost the Christmas spirit, Christmas will not come.

There are things I would like. I ooh and ahh over the Williams-Sonoma catalogue. I wander through Barnes and Noble and sometimes drool over the books I'd love to buy, knowing they would be read in a few hours and then what? Those are all little things, it seems to me, to use for one big wish.

The big things I would wish for are things that are mostly intangible (other than the house in the country with the big yard... Did you hear that, man in the red suit?!)

I wish for peace, for the world and for those I love and for myself. I wish for hope, hope that is found in the belief that things happen for a reason and that everything has a purpose and can be used for good. I wish for love, love that transcends envy and greed and is selfless.

On a night so long a ago, a baby was born to give us the gift of all these things. Not a man in a red suit, but a helpless baby can and does grant the most meaningful and spectacular wishes...through faith.

-Peace

Crafty Goodness

2011-12-21T09:30:00.002-05:00

I don't "do" tutorials. I mean, I don't write them. I watch them. I read them. I try to follow them. I love to learn new things. I like to be creative. It's fun!

I was planning to knit up a bunch of mini stockings but time got away from me, a migraine put its spell on me and well...I just dropped that ball. I still needed the stockings so I decided to sew some. I went to the fabric store intending to buy some felt. Instead I came away with some cute flannel and coordinating grosgrain ribbon.

First I drew a pattern.

Why yes, that is an old church bulletin. It was sitting on the desk and I do like to re-purpose.

I folded the fabric so I could cut them in pairs and then I pinned them together so they stayed together.

Here they are all lined up on on the top of my chest freezer. (I don't have a dedicated sewing space so I do my homework and my sewing in the ~~dungeon~~ basement between the HO scale train table and the chest freezer, next to the perpetually running washer and dryer. It's not fancy but it works.)

I folded the top of the stocking over twice and top stitched each piece before pinning them right sides together and sewing around the edges.

After looking at them I decided they needed a little "somethin' somethin'" in addition to the green grosgrain hangers. Soooo, I ran out this morning and found some yellow buttons. Its difficult to tell in the picture, but there is some yellow running through the plaid, the buttons pull that out.

TA DA!

I loved making these because it was something I created from start to finish. I like making up my own patterns better than following the store-bought ones. I love it when I have a vision and it works out. I love doing creative, crafty things. This is a perfect time of year for crafting and for sharing our creativity. I wish I had been inspired earlier in the season because I have so many ideas but not enough time.

Next year!

And I'll start sooner.

-Peace

One Tiny Bit

2011-12-20T13:43:00.004-05:00

If I was a better or different sort of blogger, I would have photo documentation of the carnage.

The carnage that was a tiny bit of dried red food coloring that fell off the flip top and hit the tile floor in my kitchen. A tiny piece which I carelessly stepped on and than tracked through the kitchen leaving dark red blotches between the refrigerator, sink, oven and trash can. (It is cookie baking day!)

Thank goodness I did not venture into the living room and its admittedly less-than-pristine oatmeal colored Berber carpet. (It is not now oatmeal with red ~~berries~~ splotches. Phew!)

When I discovered the spots I started wiping and the spots grew and smeared and it got very messy. My hands are a nice shade of red and a I threw the cloths I was using in the trash because I was afraid of what would happen in the wash if I tried to wash them. (I imagined a big red mess in the washing machine. It was very, very scary.)

This is not the first time red food coloring has been an issue. Two years ago, there was red spreading down the wall beneath the cabinet. It look like there was blood dropping from the cabinet. (Great, I'm living in a horror movie. Cue the foreboding music.) The red food coloring had gotten knocked on its side at the back of the cabinet and the flip top (who thought that was a good idea?) was ajar...hence, the horror movie effects dripping down the wall. Lovely.

As I was wiping down the floor (with Miss M trying to help me, isn't she sweet?) I thought about how little things can have big impact.

One little speck made a whole lot of mess. One harsh word can bring pain. One word spoken in love can heal. One baby born in a manger...brought a whole lot of Peace.

-Peace

God and Santa and Christmas Lists

2011-12-18T17:05:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I was trying to get some Christmas shopping accomplished. In my purse was a list separated by child and also lists for a few of the children, one had 4 little items, one covered the front and back of a piece of notebook paper and then I had one in between. Three of the children did not write lists.

I texted and called the Husband multiple times. The stuff on their lists was more of the same "stuff" already filling the basement, or it was junky or inappropriate or cost more than I could afford. ($400 Lego set, not happening.) Two hours later I had purchased nothing.

I was conflicted. You see, I could buy them some of the items on their lists and they would be happy they got them for a little while. On the other hand, I could buy them items not on their lists but that in my gut I know they would get more enjoyment or use from. It was an internal argument and I was so afraid that they would be disappointed. (And who wants to see a disappointed (and obviously ungrateful) child on Christmas morning?) But, being their mom, I know what will have lasting value and what will be a flash in the pan or the piece of junk.

I wanted to fulfill their lists as best I could because I love them, BUT (why yes, I did mean to put that in capital letters) sometimes what they will benefit from most and even enjoy most is not something they knew they wanted in the first place. It's easy to get sucked in by great marketing ploys and what the world around them tells them they need and want.

This morning I thought about how I pray very specific prayers sometimes and God does not answer...not the way I want him to, not with the answer I specifically requested. Hello?! The Bible tells us He will. Psalm 37:4 says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." (NIV). That's all fine and dandy but sometimes God has a different plan and the desires of my heart are not His desires, at least not right now, and sooooo the prayers seem to go unanswered.

But they are not unanswered. He says, "Not now," or "No," or "Not that way," He's not ignoring me or you or any of us.

Last week I had some moments of feeling as though He had forgotten me. I prayed with tears streaming down my cheeks, pleading and overwhelmed. "Please, " I begged. Now, usually when I pray I am not specific. I am a "Your will be done" kind of pray-er, but I've been asking for something fairly specific for a long time and it's just not happening.

Funny thing though, my "Please!" prayer got answered, quite beautifully. That's the way God works. He can fulfill His plan and we are taken care of, but we cannot always dictate the way it's going to happen (because I'm still waiting on that specific prayer. He's teaching me some patience, let me tell you!)

These are opportunities to relax into my faith, to trust and to fully experience what it is to be taken care of, even when things are not going according to my plans.

So, this morning I was reflecting on the Christmas lists and letters to Santa and how some of the boys' hearts desires will not be fulfilled. I thought about the fact that just like the Husband and I have a plan for our children which they might not fully understand, God has one for me (and you) that we might not be fully on board for.

May we all be aware of the ways in which prayers get answered in unexpected ways. Sometimes we have to open our eyes to see the blessings and answers right in front of us. I know I do.

-Peace

There Are Seven...

2011-12-14T15:40:00.000-05:00

Lately I've been going by the days of the week rather than the dates. ("There are seven days, there are seven days there are seven days in a week....")

This should tell you I am not planning more than 7 days ahead for anything. (Okay, I know that Christmas is coming and I am horribly, terribly unprepared and avoiding it, but that is another story...)

I knew that yesterday was Tuesday, all day, except when I wanted to think it was Wednesday. We spent the day getting the house passable for a sweet friend to come over and watch the younger kids so that we could go with the oldest son to a college interview in the evening. (She is a champ and didn't run screaming from the house when we got home so she has some serious babysitting chops, don't you think?!)

As I sat in the coffee shop waiting for the interviewer to arrive, I noticed a holiday banner with a picture of cardinals on it. My stomach kind of clenched as I turned to the Husband and said, "Today is the thirteenth, isn't it?" He and the son looked at me like I was mentally deficient and said, "Yes." (Remember I'm going by the days of the week like a preschool song right now, "There are seven days, there are seven days in a week..." At least I remember to be in the right place on "Tuesday".)

And then the interviewer arrived and we all smiled and were polite...

The thirteenth was (is?) my mom's birthday. Yesterday she would have turned 78. The boy err man who was interviewing with a college alum was 15 months old when she died on the 16th of December. I forgot the date, just like 19 years ago on the 11th of this month, the Husband asked me to marry him (and I told him to ask me again when he as serious, which was apparently immediately after I said that) and I remembered on the 12th what anniversary was the 11th.

I remembered yesterday's date when I saw the cardinals and thought of my mom who loved cardinals. (Why yes, I am living a stream of consciousness sort of life right now.)

So there are seven days in a week and for right now, I am living in weekly increments. It's not great for long range planning. It's not great for things that I have to remember by a number rather than one of those days...But it is where I am right now, at this moment.

I feel sort of badly that I was so focused on tasks that I forgot the date. It's not that I forgot her, I just was busy with the life swirling around me. Does that happen to you?

Sometimes I feel like I spend my life "putting out fires" and not enough time living intentionally. I do not love it. I Try to keep my focus on the things that matter, but I do get wrapped up in the minutia sometimes.

Any idea where I am going with this? Come on..you must...

I have seven days every week to make the most of the life that is right here in front of me. Sometimes I might forget things. Sometimes I might be flying by the seat of my pants. Sometimes...the dates might get away from me. I do my best. (My best.)

"There are seven days, there are seven days, there are seven days in a week..." I will try to rejoice in each one...which is not always the easiest task (for me, anyway).

Wishing you the time each day to remember what is most important.

-Peace

The Truth

2011-12-12T18:52:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I get messages about this blog and people tell me how peaceful I sound.

I'm NOT!

The truth is, I want to reach out and touch people (not in a creepy way, more like those old telephone company ads, remember those?) and sometimes I hear that I do. My heart sings to know that I have reached someone, made someone feel better or connected with them.

But the truth is...I am not at peace, I do not have all the answers and sometimes, sometimes I feel like a big fraud.

Do I believe what I write here? Absolutely. I believe in a loving, forgiving and grace-filled God. I believe we can trust God. I believe we do not ever walk alone.

Err umm I believe that you don't ever walk alone.

The truth is, often I feel like I've ticked God off in a major way and He has washed His hand of me. (Picture him wiping his hands together to brush off the crumbs of my messiness.) I feel it in my heart when I am feeling unlovely and maybe a little bit like everyone else's life is working out and mine is not. so. much. I feel the envy rotting my bones. I feel the weight of poor decisions on my shoulders. I feel... hopeless.

I don't think anyone else should feel this way. I think God is all merciful and loving. It's just that...I don't understand why things haven't worked out. Clearly my sins, my poor decisions and my own messiness are far worse than yours. Right? Because I must have done something...

So when I write, imagine me trying to find the peace through my words. When you read, know that I am trying to find my way. I know the Truth, but I cannot always feel it. I know He is with me, but sometimes I feel like I cannot find Him. His footsteps are silent, His hands so gentle that I may not notice their embrace.

At these times, I just know that somehow, someway He will get me through. And He will get you through, too.

I believe it, but the truth is, sometimes I don't feel it. I pray that you always do.

-Peace

Piles of (Mile)stones

2011-12-11T22:26:00.001-05:00

One in diapers, one a senior in high school and four in between.

My life is all over the place, quite literally.

I like it but it is a bit like being on an emotional roller coaster all the time. There is always something going on, and I don't mean games and art projects, I mean the emotional, spiritual stuff of life. I guess that's part of having six blessings to love and care for. There is always a milestone or 2 or 6 happening. Those milestones add up to one emotional mommy. And FYI, I am emotional to begin with.

So tonight, after an intense weekend of grad school (my peers have said they are emotionally fried too, so it's not just me), I went to the oldest boy's LAST holiday choral concert of his high school career. What?! I swear I was just telling the Husband there were two blue lines on the test at this time 18 years ago. I swear, it was just yesterday he was saying, "Do you have any idea how much diapers cost?" (Obviously he got over that. LOL) And my mother was saying, to me, her three-months married daughter, "I thought you were going to wait." And here I am the mom of a high school senior with college applications submitted.

And the mother of a 6th grader and a 5th grader and a 2nd grader and a 4 yo and a 1 yo...and I have a heart so overflowing with love and gratitude and ...fear.

Every stage and phase is new and different and each child goes through each phase differently too, because they are all uniquely and wonderfully made. The Husband and I are constantly adjusting and muddling through, hoping we're giving each child what they need to be their best self...because they each need different stuff from us, at different times and in different ways.

The truth is...The older my kids get, and the less I can micro manage their lives, the scarier it gets for me. You see, seeing them worry and hurt and struggle with anything hurts my heart.

I thought that having 6 kids, it wouldn't be so hard to say goodbye to the stages of my oldest. News flash: His last Holiday Choral Concert was a milestone, a last time to sing A Night of Silence. A last time to see my son process in singing O Come, O Come Emmanuel a Capella with the other men. (Men?!)

And on the other end, Miss M is starting to show her spunky personality as she runs through the house doing her impersonation of a tornado, frequently half-dressed.

I can see where he's been and where each of them may or may not be going. I can see that each phase has it's beauty and excitement and also it's tougher parts, too.

And then there are the balls I fear I've dropped, the ways I think I've let the oldest boy down or the others or the ways I will still fail them. And my heart aches. And I wonder, is part of the milestones learning that I will keep dropping the ball and letting them down and being an imperfect parent, no matter How. Hard. I. Try. ?

All of these things were running through my mind today as I watched and listened and experienced His. Last. Holiday. Choral. Festival.

These phases and stages are tough and tiring and scary. I do not have all the answers. I will drop the ball and I will let them down. That's a fact of life. Want to be a big liar? Say you have all the answers. I don't. You don't. No human does. God, however, does.

So tonight after I had my little, "ball dropping, failing my kids" moment, I sat in that auditorium watching all of those teenagers singing and can you guess what I did? I prayed for them. Oh yes, I did. And I just realized, as I prayed I dropped the ball so just now, I prayed for their parents.

Through all the phases and stages and piles of milestones, I can turn to God. I can talk to friends and the Husband and always, always I can lean on God. So. Can. You. I can let the fear and worry take control or I can turn to the One who has the answers and the plan and can use anything at all for good.

That sounds much better than a heart full of fear facing this big pile of (mile)stones, don't you think?

-Peace and Love

Best

2011-12-07T15:58:00.000-05:00

(Mercy Me- "The Little Drummer Boy")

Last night, I shared with you that I am supposed to be writing papers for school (still not finished, by the way, bad Stacey) and I was struggling.

I have a confession. I might be a wee bit of a perfectionist and I might over think things and perhaps my perfectionist tendencies sometimes impede my ability to begin or finish tasks which I feel may be....imperfect.

The Husband has pointed out that I have modeled this particular trait so well that the oldest boy might be a wee bit of a perfectionist himself. It is not something I am proud of.

I wish to be proud of my work and what I produce but this morning as I was driving to MOPS listening to Mercy Me sing "The Little Drummer Boy" I got chill as I always do when they sing, "Shall I play for you? Mary looked at me and nodded, the ox and lamb kept time. I played my drum for Him. I played my best for Christ. I played my best for Christ." That lyric gives me goosebumps. I played my best for Christ.

All at once I was convicted and freed. You see, at first I started thinking about all the ways I fall short of best, all the things I don't do well enough. I don't do them well enough in my eyes. I am not the best at them. Convicted through my faults and failures and less-thans.

And then, I realized, God doesn't ask me to be the best He asks me to be my best. Second confession of this post, I had tears in my eyes along with the goosebumps and the hair that was standing up on my neck.

That friends, is how I was freed. Freedom to serve as only I am created to serve is doing my best.

So whether you're writing papers for school or teaching, no matter what you're doing in your life, all you are asked to do, all you are called to do, is your best with the big things and the little things. Whether you're rich or poor, playing a drum or bringing frankincense and myrrh, if you are bringing your best, He will smile.

So today, I will focus on doing my best, and bringing my best to all things.

Praying you can relax into your best, too.

-Peace and Love

So I Should Be Writing a Paper..

2011-12-06T22:11:00.000-05:00

I have two papers due on Friday. Two papers which are incomplete right now and which I am having an internal tantrum about doing. I am struggling with certain logistical aspects of citing and I am just feeling...annoyed.

You see, I would much rather be writing here. It's like talking to a friend or two when I post here. I can choose my topic and as long as I'm not plagiarizing, do you care whether I use APA to cite? Not really. (And for the record APA is not my BFF).

So, I have been leaning on my friends through this ordeal, via ~~crackbook~~ FB and text, we have been chatting about the assignment, they have been offering words of support, suggestions and commiseration. I am so thankful to have what Dr. Henry Cloud referred to as "monkeys", those friends you turn to for support. Ever since we heard that at the Women of Faith- Imagine event the women I went with and those who have heard the story talk about our monkeys with fondness and affection.

In fact, one of my friends posted "In Christ Alone" on the FB as a shout out to her monkeys and I find myself turning to it when I need to be reminded of all that He has done for me. The verse that seems to catch my ears every time is: And as He stands in victory, sin's curse has lost it's grip on me. For I am His and he is mine, bought with the precious blood of Christ.

I need to remember sometimes that sin doesn't have the last word. My bad decisions do not have the last word. The last word comes from that sacrificial act so long ago which is the most amazing gift.

I remember standing in a conference room with thousands of other women at MOPS convention and hearing Travis Cottrell sing this song and feeling it in my heart and soul, feeling that gift. It made me get goosebumps. I am so thankful to be reminded by a monkey of this awesome experience and opportunity to worship together with so many other women.

So although I should be writing a paper, I am babbling to you about this gift which makes me smile, makes my heart sing and makes me just want to stand up and shout, "He loves YOU!" As I keep telling a sweet friend, "You've got this and He's got you." He's got you and me and all of us. Amen!

And as a side note...don't you think I should be published and paid to write? It would solve this "writing papers for grades" issue!

Praying you find the peace and joy and gifts of grace in your life, that you have friends that remind you (even unintentionally) of what an amazing God we have and that you know that you, yes you, are loved.

-Peace
(from the girl avoiding writing school-related papers)

It's So Beautiful

2011-12-01T20:04:00.001-05:00

Those were the words 4 yo *I* used to describe the park today.

The sky was a roiling mass of gray clouds, the trees were bare, the landscape shades of brown and the ground a little bit (or a lot) on the muddy side.

The Husband and I took advantage of the younger boys' conference day to hit the trail with all but the high schooler who was still trapped in those hallowed halls of learning.

I have to agree with *I*. I thought it was beautiful. Much like the song The Colors of My Life from Barnum,

The colors of my life, Are softer than a breeze. The silver gray of eiderdown, the dappled green of trees. The amber of a wheat field, the hazel of a seed, the crystal of a raindrop, are all I'll ever need. Your reds are much too bold, in gold I find no worth. I'll fill my days with sage and brown, the colors of the earth, and if from by my side my love should roam. The colors of my life will shine a quiet light to lead him home.

It's true I love the starkness of late autumn, the crispness and even the shades of brown and gray. The Husband doesn't get my love of this season he sees as one of death. For me, this season signifies family togetherness, comfort food, crackling fires and calm. It means knitting and baking, quiet nights at home and...a feeling of home.

I loved walking through the woods today. There is something refreshing about bundling up to see the world around me that makes me feel safe and content. I loved watching *I* talking to the birds. I enjoyed seeing the cardinals playing chase and thinking of how my mom loved cardinals. I laughed at *N* running ahead like a bull in a china shop and then yelling at his brothers to be quiet because he wanted to see animals. lol.

In the quiet of late autumn, I feel in tune with the world around me. In the quiet, I can prepare my heart and soul and mind in this season of advent for the joyous celebration and gift that is to come. Maybe that is why the death of autumn brings me introspection and not sadness...there's a baby due in a few weeks, a beautiful savior and I need to be quiet and get ready.

Yes, sweet *I*, it is beautiful.

-Peace

We Can Work it Out

2011-11-30T15:07:00.000-05:00

There seems to be a common theme in my home lately.

The Husband or I will find ourselves saying to one of the boys (because the princess is too little yet), "Whatever it is, we can work it out." The "whatever" is different based on ages and stages but they all need to hear this from us.

Children need to know that we are in their corner and always will be. They do not have to walk alone. Sometimes they might choose to walk alone for a while, to be independent and make their own choices. But, when they are done flying solo, or when they get into a tight spot or even feel a little bit (or a lot) overwhelmed or afraid, we will be there...to hold their hand, hug them, listen or sit silently beside them.

Here's the thing: it is my job as a mom to do this. I know it in every fiber of my being, BUT it can be so very hard. We can't always control their choices, we can't always convince them it will be okay, we can't always fix the problem. Sometimes no matter how much they need us there, they really would rather we not be there at all. It is difficult and painful and sometimes just plain overwhelming.

Sometimes the issues are huge to them and to me, not so much. For instance, my 7 yo *E* had some overdue books at the school library. I reminded him daily to return them and this morning I emailed his teacher to ask her to remind him. Well, apparently he was dragging his feet because the books had an unfortunate relationship with a nasty black banana at the bottom of his backpack (I knew about said incident, cleaned off the books (I tried, at least) and admonished him loudly and sternly to "Never, never EVER" bring home a school lunch banana).

So today he will be bringing home a "Damaged Book" form and I will tell him we will take care of it (and this is why we should never ever put bananas in our backpacks) but more importantly I will tell him that no matter what he is worried about, he can talk to us and between daddy and I, "We can work it out." We can't turn back time, the book is damaged and there is the consequence of us paying for the book.

There are often consequences to our choices and actions, some will be more painful than others and some we can "fix" and others where we can only be present to support through the resulting troubles. Just like the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15:11-32...we will welcome them home no matter what and rejoice that they have returned, even if they have lost their inheritance and made poor choices. (My kids aren't looking at any inheritance, no worries there. ;) )

This story also reminds me that God, The Father, the ultimate parent, always welcomes me home, no matter what I have messed up, squandered or failed to do. No matter what the situation, God tells me, just as I tell my kids, "We can work it out."

-Peace

The Outskirts of Town

2011-11-25T08:34:00.000-05:00

The gray sky and biting wind are typical late November. That's why I told him to bring his gloves. He wasn't sure he wanted to come with me especially when all I said, was, "Get your shoes on we're going out." The only answer I would give him about our destination was, "The outskirts of town."

He wasn't keen on getting out of the car when we arrived at the park but he did and as we started walking his attitude became less grumpy and more talkative.

10 year-old *N* has a strong sense of justice, or better stated, his perceived experience of injustice. He always wants to speak his case, even when he's been told to, "Just stop."

Things were quickly spinning out of control with his mouth and his desire to be right and the disrespect was increasing in direct proportion to my blood pressure. His refusal to accept responsibility, to see another's point of view and respect our authority was spiralling out of control. Something needed to change.

Which is when I decided to take him to the outskirts of town.

"The outskirts of town," is part of a line Binky Barnes says in an Arthur cartoon that the Husband and I joke about. Binky thinks that they will get dropped off at the outskirts of town for losing a game. (He is then disappointed because, "I'll never get to see the outskirts of town." which must, in his imagination be a scary place. ;) )

*N* needed to be out of the situation and since he refuses to go to, or stay in, his room, he wasn't getting that reset, change of scenery, time to cool down, in the traditional way. Our words were falling on deaf ears and since our volume was getting louder, he was very, very listening impaired.

When we started walking the path at the park, I talked about the scenery, the changes and small talk. After a few minutes, I talked to him about what was going on at home. The first time I brought it up, in typical *N* fashion he just kept talking about his own thing but the boy gets a little of that tenacity from me and I rolled the conversation back around and I think I got my point across.

I emphasized our love for him. I told him we wanted to listen to him and hear his side, but that hearing his side didn't mean we would agree with him. I also told him he needed to respect our authority. I think he heard me.

I don't think I could have gotten that far had I tried to keep going around in circles on the stairway landing. He needed to come with me to the outskirts of town, to have a change of scenery and to see that I was willing to listen and walk alongside him even when I wasn't feeling warm and fuzzy.

That's all we all really want, isn't it? To know that we will still have someone walking alongside us when we're on the outskirts of town, when we're not our most lovable.

Thank You God, for walking with me and Thank You, for modeling that for me, for giving me the patience and wisdom to know that is what *N* needed on that cold, gray day.

-Peace

Not a Magazine Shoot..Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T08:53:00.000-05:00

That's right. Our Thanksgiving meal will not resemble that on the glossy pages of a magazine. There will be a tablecloth on the table and the requisite cloth napkins on the table, but since I always use cloth napkins, that's not a big deal. There will be matching plates on the table. There will be a beautifully sliced turkey, the Husband has a gift with that. We will have a bountiful feast, but I guarantee you that several of the children will turn up their noses at all but the dinner rolls and the cranberry jelly.

Our outfits will not match or even coordinate. There was a time when my kids had outfits for Thanksgiving, that has flown out the window to scratch in the dirt with the pardoned turkeys.

I grew up, I think I have mentioned, in a home where holidays were supposed to resemble glossy magazine pages. Inevitably, it was a time of stress and rigidity not a time of togetherness and fun.

Maybe one of the reasons I wanted a bunch of kids is so that I could have one of those crazy, hectic joy-filled holidays full of laughter and creativity and LOVE. I don't want magazine pictures but I guess I envisioned the Walton's or those holiday movies of my youth where the family gathered to play football in the yard and laughed together in the kitchen.

My vision was no more achievable than my mom's. As much as I would like to, I do not have the gentle, calm presence of Olivia Walton. My boys have yet to play a game of football in the backyard.

We have to find our own way to celebrate and enjoy each other and to be. It cannot be found in the pages of magazines or on our television screens. We cannot model our perfect life on things man-made.

Our life stretches out before us, our choices are our own. Our experiences are woven together into a beautiful tapestry. God created a plan and no matter which choices we make or what threads go next to each other, it can all be made into something beautiful.

So, if the house is still messy and the outfits don't match, if the kids bicker and we don't have a centerpiece on the table...we still have much to be thankful for. I am thankful for this crazy, stressful, imperfect life. It all works together for good. I am thankful for living and breathing and feeling, for loving and crying and laughing and just being.

Wishing you peace and contentment on this day where we remember that life on this land was fraught with struggles and adventures and that is why we celebrate thanksgiving...because those first givers of thanks recognized that life is hard and unpredictable and we should at all times and in all things...be thankful.

-In love

Lemon Drops

2011-11-21T23:21:00.001-05:00

I discovered a new band this weekend. If you are offended by cussing, references to alcohol, smoking or sugar daddies, this is not the music for you. However, I think Pistol Annies is a fun band and there are some great lyrics on the album.

So what does that have to do with Lemon drops you might be wondering? Well...one of their songs is titled "Lemon Drop" and I love the refrain, My life is like a lemon drop. I'm sucking on the bitter to get to the sweet part. I know there are better days ahead.

There was a time when lemon drops were my very best friend. They were, you see, the only thing that kept the ~~morning~~ all day sickness at bay when I was pregnant with *E* in 2004. I kept an ample supply in front of me as I sat through classes trying not to make a mad dash for the closest restroom. (I found out we were expecting 1 week after I began seminary, God has an amazing sense of humor...and timing.)

Those lemon drops were a bitter and sweet that helped me get through the rough parts and now *E* is a 7 year old. I sucked on the bitter to get to the sweet parts..and we still have bitter and sweet parts.

And life is like that. We have bitter and sweet and sometimes it feels like the bitter lasts longer than the sweet. Sometimes it looks like someone else got a sweeter lemon drop. Sometimes we might even feel like our lemon drop was sweeter that we deserved.

Sometimes our bitter is just too much to bear; the pain too deep and raw. Sometimes we cannot imagine there ever being a sweet part, cannot fathom the end of the bitterness.

I confess to you right now, that I could find all sorts of little things to get all bitter about and that bitterness could grow; whether from worry or envy, frustration or hurt. The thing is, I would have to nurture that bitterness for it to grow. I would have to give energy, time and focus to the envy or worry, frustration or hurt in order for them to grow and then it would be like sucking on the never-ending-bitter lemon drop.

What I have to relearn over and over again (because I am a cup half-empty girl) is that we have to have faith and hope in the sweet part. It will come. It is going to come. But if we're too busy focusing on the bitterness...we might not be open to experiencing the sweet.

Sometimes I feel like living in the expectation of sweet parts is naive. My half-empty cup mocks my hope. My reality-driven mind makes me question whether there will ever be sweet parts again or if we got the defective lemon drops without sweet parts.

But then into my mind pops my "go to" verse, Jer 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." I take the plans to prosper, to give hope and a future as the sweet parts. I hold on to those words of God, He who has a plan for me, even when others think my faith is blissful ignorance, because that faith allows me to live in expectation of sweet parts.

Thank you Pistol Annies for reminding me of my love for lemon drops, how they got me through some rough months and that there are some very sweet parts, too. They got me to thinking about the bitter and the sweet in every day, how we can nurture the bitter or expect the sweet and either way we'll get what we nurture and expect. Either way, we'll taste what we expect to taste.

My life is like a lemon drop. I'm sucking on the bitter to get to the sweet part. I know there are better days ahead.

-Peace

The Special

2011-11-10T09:17:00.000-05:00

This morning I was sitting at the counter trying to write a paper for school (and grousing about it. ;) ) and I started craving a little something...or a big something.

I thought about the bacon in the refrigerator and the potatoes in the pantry. Then I thought about making bacon, eggs and home fries. Not exactly a heart-friendly meal. Not exactly a quick fix but comfort food.

As I abandoned the schoolwork to tie on my apron (all that grease splatters, you know), I thought that maybe I was missing my dad and his signature breakfast, one an old boyfriend used to call "The George Special": crispy bacon, eggs over easy and home fries soft on the inside and crispy, peppered goodness on the outside, with golden brown toast on the side. All I am missing is some orange marmalade...and my dad.

My father was never one to say, "I love you." The first time he did say it was when I was a freshman in college, the day my mom had a triple bypass and I had food poisoning. It was December 2nd. I don't hold it against him. I knew he was always there for me and he was forever driving me and my friends, tolerating the obscenely loud music and waiting for ridiculous amounts of time for me to be ready. He just didn't express love with words or hugs. He was far more comfortable with acts of service.

Today as I assemble the greasy goodness in my own kitchen, counters covered with papers and books and stuff, I am far removed from the uber-tidy kitchen of my youth. It's not just the clutter though, but a feeling of warmth and love and care that I felt sitting at that round table waiting for my plate to arrive; a sense of security.

I wonder, am I creating the same sense of home and love and care here as I felt there, even when the "care" was suffocating and sometimes confidence-stealing it was always there. I think when I wrote about going home this is the feeling I was seeking. I didn't find it when I went home, but I pray that my own children feel that safety and security and love (but not the suffocation) at our home.

That is my goal, for them to feel loved and secure. And for them to know they are loved by One who is far greater than our wildest imaginations, One who can love more unconditionally and completely than human comprehension. I rest in that love when I miss my earthly parents, knowing they did the best they could in the ways they could and that I am abundantly blessed to have eaten those "George Specials" for so many years.

-Peace

Hope is..

2011-11-09T14:01:00.000-05:00

In college I had a professor who taught me a great deal about finding my voice in my writing and about having confidence in the value of what I wrote. I'm not sure whether that was her intent as she set out to instruct her journalism students, but in reflection, that is precisely what she did.

She had won a Pulitzer, so to me it was akin to sitting at the feet of a rock star. She gave me A's which meant validation and freedom from the high school English teacher who told me I would never be an "A" writer. (I try not to hold a grudge about that. lol) Maybe I am not an "A" writer, but in Maddie's class I was, and that made all the difference. She gave me...hope.

It was my first J. class. I remember reading aloud from what I wrote and feeling naked right down to my soul and here I sit at my counter writing naked from my soul for strangers; something that made me physically ill all those years ago, hands shaking, mouth dry, wishing to be invisible I do willingly though faceless now....and back then I got positive feedback, constructive criticism...and an "A" that gave me...hope that someday I maybe would really be a writer.

A dream and a hope I still hold tightly in a cautious,closed fist, lest I open it up, toss it in the air..and instead of flying, it falls to the ground like lead. And then I will again hear those words repeat in my head, "You will never be an "A" writer."

One of Maddie's books is about a girls' high school basketball team. I thought of the title today, though I've never read it, In these Girls, Hope is a Muscle. I love the title. I love what that means.

In me and you and everyone, hope is a muscle. It is the hope we hold that pushes us forward. It is the hope which motivates and energizes and stirs us to action. We can be builders of hope. We can give false hope. We can dampen or even destroy hope.

One of my "go to" verses in the Bible is Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (NIV)

Remembering this verse reminds me that my hope does not rest in another person's subjective judgement of me or my abilities. My hope rests in God who can use all things for good. My hope rests in knowing that I am resting securely in the arms of God, even when things feel uncertain. I can bring the gifts I have to God, and he can use them.

My hope rests in knowing that if it is God's will, I can loosen my grip on my dreams, set them free to fly and I will be okay whether they sink like lead..or fly like eagles. My hope is a muscle and God is my strength and comfort.

My prayer is that you have hope in God and in your life; that you may find comfort and peace in using your gifts to reach your dreams, whatever they may be.

-Peace

Terrific Toddler Tuesday

2011-11-08T10:18:00.001-05:00

T is for Tuesday,
and Terrific,
and Toddler.

And while Toddlers can be adorable they can also Test (another T-word) the Tolerance of the mother (no T-word for that) taking care of said Toddler.

The current (and last) toddler in our home is as cute as can be; dancing to the music, clapping, waving....taking off her shirt and waving it over her head, throwing anything she can get her hands on in the garbage can. (Is it any wonder when my keys went MIA that I was certain they were in the local landfill? They were not, instead they were just keeping warm under the toaster oven.)

Miss M is terrific with a capital T. She really is. Terrific Toddlers require a particular amount of supervision, both for their own protection and that of all items in your home not nailed down or light enough for a toddler to drag to a garbage receptacle. That being said, it is my unscientific opinion that Terrific Toddlers are much like ants and can drag items multiple times their weight to garbage receptacles where they are then able to deposit them when slacking mothers, doing silly things like dishes, are not paying attention.

So on this Terrific Toddler Tuesday...I'd like to tell you that Miss M is Magnificently Marvelous just as she is..even if that means I rescue things from garbage cans and "keep your shirt on" is a literal admonition and not a figure of speech.

Each day I am Thankful for the Totally Terrific Toddler who ~~Terrorizes~~ Thrills our Tribe with each smile and laugh.

Wishing you a Totally Terrific Tuesday, whether you live with offspring or not. May each day be seen as a gift.

-Peace

"Today I Am..."

2011-11-07T11:03:00.000-05:00

"Today I am thankful for..."

Each morning this month (except the one I already forgot and had to add in .... and it's only the 7th!) I have made a status update on fb that began with the words..."Today I am thankful for ___."

In Ann Voskamp's book, One Thousand Gifts, she makes a practice of noting the little and mundane things that she is thankful for.

How much in my life do I take for granted?

I know I do it and I am ashamed. I see the greener grass, the shinier car, the tidier home, the thinner, the more chic, and it is so very easy to forget all my blessings.

Funny thing, I never (or rarely, one should never say never ;) ) take for granted the washer and dryer in my basement.

We had been a family of five for a couple of years before we had our own washer and dryer. Before that I was schlepping to laundromats once or twice a week. Now, with eight of us, I do at least two loads of laundry a day and I am grateful each time I do a load that I can do it in my own home. I have not forgotten what a gift doing laundry is.

This weekend at the Women of Faith event, Lisa Harper, shared her analogy of God's love being like a pile of warm laundry which we can relax into. This morning as I was pulling the soft, warm clothes out of the dryer I thought of that analogy, of how grateful I am to be able to do laundry for my family of eight, how God's love shines through that small task of clean clothes and how great it is to be able to do it.

Sometimes I take my family for granted. When the bickering gets out of control, when I step on pointy Legos in bare feet, when all I want is a few minutes to think in peace...I forget that it is a miracle that brought them to me. You can talk about the science of eggs and fertilization, but let's not forget that you can have all the elements and still not have a baby. I have friends experiencing infertility and my heart aches for them...and yet, I forget how blessed I am.

Today, though as I pulled my son's shirt from the dryer and thought of Lisa Harper's analogy, I remembered....

Today I am thankful for warm and cozy, clean and miraculous. Today I am thankful for reminders to be thankful and grateful and live life in the warmth of God's love.

-Peace

The Small Things.

2011-11-06T16:06:00.001-05:00

I looked at the kitchen floor, I saw spots.

I looked at the pantry and realized I was out of pasta, the refrigerator had only a small cube of mozzarella.

The bathroom, well, there are 5 boy-children living here.

Little chores. Little things. They add up and can make me feel overwhelmed and a little "put upon". I sigh. I grumble. I grind my teeth. I resent the little chores I need to do and I joke about the Cleaning fairy never showing up.

This afternoon, I had a shift of perspective. I realized I was not being faithful in the small things in my life and yet, in doing the small things I am serving a much greater purpose.

Serving.

That can be seen as a dirty word. How many times have I thought (or said), "I am not your servant." to one of my kids? I'm not their servant, really. But sometimes, I get wrapped up in myself enough to forget that it is in doing these tasks and chores that I am being faithful in the small things, and that even the smallest tasks done with a joyful, loving heart are pleasing to God and that big, fancy tasks done with a bitter spirit are unpleasing to Him too.

Small things aren't just household tasks. It could be the spirit in which we hold open a door or let someone merge into traffic in front of us. If we do it grudgingly instead of joyfully, I think we miss out on something. Let me make that clear. We. Miss. Out. On. Something.

In Luke 16:10, Jesus says, "Whoever can be trusted with very little, can also be trusted with much." This does not mean that we should do things to receive more stuff, more blessings. Instead perhaps we can look at it like this, when we are faithful in the small things we are open and responsible to handle the bigger things. I also find that when my heart is right about the small things in life, I can better respond to the bigger things in life, good and bad. The converse is true as well. When my heart is bitter about the small things, I cannot see the bigger, better picture. My bitterness over the little things can blur the beautiful and bountiful things all around me.

I don't think we should sweat the small stuff. I do believe we need to see the value in the small stuff. Babies are little and they are the future. Diamonds are little (mostly ;) ) and they're a girl's best friend. Punctuation marks are little and just think about how much they can change meaning of a sentence. With faith as small as a mustard seed, (Luke 17:6), you could order a tree to uproot itself and it would.

I am going to re-up my efforts to be more faithful in the small things and to appreciate the small things more too. I'm also working to grow in my faith. I think that's an area that can always be nurtured to grow.

-Peace

I Am a Woman

2011-11-05T21:46:00.001-04:00

Renewed.
Refreshed.
Inspired..

I spent two days at a Women of Faith event hearing the stories of amazing speakers, sharing the Love of God. Getting take away words of wisdom from Luci Swindoll, " Don't miss life by waiting for it to change", This is your gift, it's called your life." From Lisa Harper, " Lean into God like a pile of warm laundry." Angie Smith, "In the storm, focus on the man who says he is the son of God." Natalie Grant quoted Max Lucado, " You are not and accident." She said, "You are a princess." Nicole Johnson,"God will take our tragedies and if we give him the pieces He will make them something more beautiful than we ca imagine." and Sheila Walsh,"The shepherd knows where to find you. It's his job to get you all the way home."

I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my face and my stomach ached. It was good. I heard stories of such pain and injustice that I bit my lip and one of my friends passed tissues down the aisle. There was singing and dancing and a little bit of coveting (Please forgive us)...there were some sweet boots on that platform and there was one dress that I am thinking would be very cute in my closet. ;)

We were ladies together. 8,000+ women; lots of ages and stages and denominations and phases of faith life and of chronological age. We shared the common experience of being women and there is something about that club, about the expectations and understanding and experiences of being a woman in this world, that gave us a bond.

Which is why...

I adore my girlfriends. I love what we can share and how we can support and nurture one another. I love that they can challenge me and encourage me and yes, even give me a firm shove when I cannot get out of my own way. (I might screech, but sometimes I need a little push to jump off the diving board instead of gazing longingly at the water.) I love the women I was privileged to share this experience with; to chat and process and grow with.

As I frequently say, "I love my ladies." I mean all of my girlfriends, all the ladies I share those XX chromosomes with. You are all amazing, unique women and I think you're awesome. We don't have to agree on everything or much of anything, as long as we can agree to just accept each other where we are, it's all good in my eyes.

I love my ladies. I love that in a room of 8,000 strangers we all were women united in laughter and tears. I love that I have opportunities to learn and grow and be. I love....that I am woman. Did you hear that? I roared.

-peace

Home is...

2011-10-27T09:14:00.004-04:00

I love this song but it makes me cry to varying degrees depending how fragile I'm feeling and for a few different reasons.

It was popular when my dad was dying and the verse, Be careful what you wish for, cuz you just might get it all and then some you don't want, took on poignant meaning. I was dreading going home for the funeral because I knew the family drama would be high and I would be trying to play peacemaker or at least try to pick my way through the battlefield keeping myself and my little family relatively unscathed. Yeah, wish granted since he died the day *I* was born making it impossible for me to make the 10 hour trek for his funeral.

As I listened to it on the treadmill yesterday, it brought on tears for a new and different reason. But if you know me, you know that tears are my release valve so, no big news there. I was just glad no one was downstairs to witness the huge sobs as I chugged along, no one I had to reassure that mommy was fine, because I wasn't.

I realized the truth in the cliche, "You can never go home again," recently. I also realized that home is not always the geographic place where you grow up, where your childhood home is or even where your biological family is.

The kiddos and I took a road trip back to the place where I grew up, where two of my kids were born. The mountains were gorgeous, the air was so fresh and....to say we were not welcomed with open arms would be an understatement.

Ouch.

So after little more than a drive by hello to family because we felt so welcomed and loved (not), I showed the kids where I lived, where I worked, we went to the top of a mountain (the picture at the top of this blog) ate some ice cream and came back...home.

I left my house in the morning thinking I was going home, and I left the place of my birth heading ... home.

As we were driving out of town that afternoon, I turned to the 17 yo and said, "It's beautiful here but as much as I love it, I don't think we could live here again." He finished my thought, "We don't have anyone here anymore."

I had to keep my eyes on the road and bite my lip (Staring out into the night, trying to hide the pain) because it hurt me so much to hear him say it. For me to feel it was one thing, for my kids to feel it was a whole new level of hurt.

No, home wasn't in my rear view mirror. Home is where we live now; (The place where love and feeling good don't ever cost a thing, and the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.) where we are surrounded by friends, people who love and accept us, who care enough to get messy with us when we need them; family by heart. Even the 17 yo recognized where our people are. I think that says something. ;)

I'm going home, to the place where I belong. Where your love has always been enough for me. I'm not running from, no I think you got me all wrong. I don't regret this life I chose for me. But these places and these faces are getting old so I'm going home.

I am learning (over and over...and over again) that I grow through the hard things; the hurts and challenges and mistakes. I wish it wasn't like that. Maybe it's just me and I can't learn without some emotional drama/trauma. The gift is that through it, I gain compassion for others. My heart is overflowing with compassion. ;)

I hope that wherever you are, you find the people who love and support you, even when life gets messy. I hope that you are home.

-Peace

If the Shoe Doesn't Fit...

2011-10-25T10:01:00.000-04:00

This morning I was joking about my list of Cinderella chores, which usually brings to mind the Disney version with singing mice...

But in her book, Ruby Slippers, Jonalyn Grace Fincher describes the Grimm version in which the stepsisters, so desperate to fit into the tiny golden slippers, slice away parts of their feet and hobble bloodied and mutilated to the prince. (And in case you missed the end of the story, it's all for naught. Cinderella still gets the guy. ;) )

Fincher states:

Often the roles we play are like pinching shoes. In order to fit some role, we squeeze ourselves, contort ourselves, even cut off parts of ourselves...It hurts to wear shoes that are not for us. It hurts to keep shaving off parts of our souls. Can we just admit it once and for all? Our feet don't fit Cinderella's slipper...It's embarrassing-- ugly even-- when we see what we've done to ourselves to fit something that doesn't even belong to us, but until we admit it we can't get out of these silly shoes (pp. 19-20).

Now, part of me is all about shoe analogies right now. The ~~instrument of torture~~ treadmill is taking a toll on my tootsies. It's not pretty and a pedi is not going to fix it. A visit to a professional running shoe fitting type person is in order and I think I know someone who can point me in the right direction.

So my feet, they are a little messed up, but as I've shared, my soul is a little blistered, too.

People learn bits and pieces about me and they think they can label me. They squeeze me into a shoe that is not a good fit and I try to hobble around in it...or I try to kick it off. I have 6 kids. I went to seminary. I....have done and said and experienced lots of things, and I still do. I didn't stop learning and living and growing. I still make mistakes, question, evaluate, change my mind, say and do stupid things...because I am human and humans are a big ol' mess.

As I was contemplating this, I kept thinking of a Meredith Brooks song. I hate the world today, (The Husband will tell you I utter this phrase frequently.) You're so good to me, I know but I can't change. I tried to tell you but you look at me like maybe I'm an angel underneath, innocent and sweet...I'm a little bit of everything all rolled into one...

Sometimes we change our shoes to fit our moods or a season in our life. I love to wear clogs now. In college I wore penny loafers (as did most of my sorority sisters. ;) ). In the winter I love to wear my black leather boots. In the summer, a cute pair of flip flops is the ticket. I'm still searching for a pair of heels I can wear without tottering like I've had a few too many glasses of wine (when I'm perfectly sober). Just like I change my shoes, I have an evolving and growing sense of self.

Trying to fit into a role that isn't authentically our own...is like wearing shoes that don't fit. They pinch and blister and hinder our progress. (Like every pair of heels I've tried on lately.)

Let's agree to not shave off pieces of our souls to fit another person's expectation of what we should be or do. Let's just be our best authentic selves, in whatever shoes really fit us...and likewise, not try to shoehorn anyone else into the pair we think they should be wearing based on a snippet of what we think we know about them.

Now, somebody help me out of these silly shoes. ;)

-Peace

I'm Back.

2011-10-21T09:23:00.002-04:00

Seeking. Looking for the wrong things in the wrong places.

Do you ever have times like that? Times where you cannot see the forest for the trees?

I've had a few weeks of that. That explains why I haven't written. I've been navel gazing, but not in the right frame of mind. I'm still hitting the treadmill daily. I'm still seeking to choose my own destiny and reclaim the awesome I've lost (if I ever had it???).

The big picture just got a little out of focus for me.

Interestingly, as I was having my own crisis of identity, responsibility, even faith to some degree; the rest of my life was showing the strain from my own cracks. I was trying to go through the motions and put a smile on my face but my friends (and family) noticed. I was forgetful, snappish and just not me. (Well the snappishness might be "me". ;) )

One of my friends said, "You don't have to put a smile on for us, what's going on?" Another invited me for coffee and then said, "Okay, I'm here, I'm a listening ear. What's going on?" I told them I needed to work it out in my own head, because I did.

This week I told a trusted mentor and friend that her comments about the way Satan will find a crack to get a toehold had hit home for me and that I was struggling. She didn't pry. She didn't judge. She prayed and she supported and in telling her I was struggling, I found peace.

I was unable to go to God myself then because I felt so lost, so separated from Him through my own inner turmoil and while friends reached out to toss me a life preserver of sorts, I was not ready to grab it.

I share this with you for a few reasons. 1. To share that sometimes even when we're well-intentioned and loving, people may not be ready to receive our help or blessings. 2. To share that even when you feel totally alone and lost, God will bring someone to you, to be His hands and feet and love you when you're feeling unlovable. 3. To share that you can lose your focus and get off track, but through His grace you can find your way back (hopefully none of us get too far off track) .

I recently heard Toby Mac's "Made to Love You" and few verses spoke to my heart: Check my reflection, I ain't feelin' what I see, It's no mystery. Whatever happened to a passion I could live for? What became of the flame that made me feel more? And when did I forget that...I was made to love you?......I feel the haters spittin' vapors on my dreams, but I still believe.

This and I hear a seminary professor saying, as she so frequently did, "Remember who you are and Whose you are." Wiser words I may never hear. Because even as I seek "me", my Creator already knows. Being authentically and awesomely me is a fulfillment of that creation.

I have said many times this week that I feel abundantly blessed to have amazing friends. I do. They bring me peace and joy and love, they pray and laugh and cry with me.

God knows who I am when I do not. God leads me where I need to go when I am lost. God brings me people to show me love when I am feeling most unlovable. God has blessed me with amazing friends because God knows how much I need them. My prayer is that I can be that kind of friend to them too.

-Peace

Jack Welch on the Wall

2011-09-30T09:40:00.000-04:00

When I was a junior in college, I found a quote by Jack Welch, the former CEO of GE:

Control your own destiny or someone else will.

I wrote it down and pinned it to the bulletin board that hung above my desk next to photo collages of friends, magazine cutouts and a life we all thought we wanted (and would have). I wanted to embrace controlling my destiny, perhaps because I knew I was not in control, but controlled; whether it be by my fears, my family, peers, boyfriends....think of me as a leaf in a stream, carried by the current, sometimes gently, sometimes getting a little "beat up" in the process.

Yesterday I was searching for a quote or saying to put in my oldest boy's senior yearbook patron ad and I found Jack Welch's quote. We decided to go with something else, something that will mean something to him..and make him laugh, but I can't share it here yet. (Not that he would ever read this. As if!)

Anyway, coming across that quote made me think...who is controlling my destiny?

If we want to go theological the answer still isn't clear cut. Some believe that God started the world and now it's running on momentum and God is hands-off, watching. Some believe that God has a hand in every little thing that happens. Most believe that God has a plan for each of us and that God can use for good everything our free-willing selves choose to do.

So if I'm reclaiming my awesome, I need to start thinking about controlling my destiny. But controlling my destiny may have consequences, some you expect and some that are unanticipated and may not rear their (ugly ?) heads for quite some time. I don't live in a vacuum; I have a family, friends, obligations...I can't just decide I want to climb Mount Kilimanjaro and beat feet, you know? (No, I really have no desire to do that, it was an example.)

Yesterday one of my friends posted a quote on ~~crackbook~~ fb, "...if you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it..." Hmmmm. Ms Medium isn't a chance-taking, acceptor of change. Remember the leaf in the stream, getting carried by the current? And now I'm thinking about controlling my destiny and taking chances. It's a lot to think about, at least it is for me.

I'm taking baby steps and one of them is realizing that finding my awesome depends on me controlling my own destiny. How I feel, who I am, what I do cannot be based on another human, no matter how much I love them, respect them or want them to accept and love me.

Baby steps. When the Husband's response to a new outfit I choose is, "I [meaning him] don't have to wear it." (which means he hates it), and I loved it, I will still love it. (And my dark purple nail polish.) To be fair, I don't think he's trying to control me or my choices, just voicing his opinion. It's my problem that I internalize his opinion and don't trust my own.

Controlling my own destiny (and finding my awesome, cuz it's all about me.;) ) is about trusting myself to be rational and practical but it doesn't necessarily mean just going where the current takes me. It's not going to be easy and sometimes my outfit won't work. (Let's hope that's the worst consequence. ;) )

That handwritten quote from all of those years ago might still be kicking around in a box (doubtful), but I'm glad I was reminded of it yesterday and I want to embrace it again.

To loosely quote Martin Luther, "Sin boldly, and trust in the Lord bolder still."

-Peace

I Go Out Walkin'...Errr

2011-09-27T12:57:00.000-04:00

This morning as the beads of sweat trickled down my cheeks I focused on not hitting the wall. Literally.

It was great to have a treadmill in the house so my exercise wasn't dependent on anyone else's schedule. I know that every day I can hop on and walk/run and get it done. Eye on the prize.

Usually I walk at the park. On days when the parking lots are sparse, I admit I am a little anxious in the wooded areas and I look over my shoulder more frequently. (The Husband gripes about how unsafe it is or me to run/walk with ear buds in because it makes me less aware of my surroundings..."It helps me keep my pace." I argue.)

"Keeping my pace" was a figment of my imagination. That is lesson one learned from the treadmill (which I plan to name...). You see, setting the treadmill, I had to stay at the pace or admit defeat and lower the speed.

Have I mentioned my prideful nature?

In line with keeping my pace is hitting the wall...I can walk and search for the right song on my ipod at the same time, adding in a motorized walkway however, adds a new skill set which I will have to master. I have to focus on keeping the pace more on the treadmill so when I got distracted I found myself slipping back and dangerously close to hitting the wall, the literal one. That just doesn't happen at the park. I guess it's a good thing I don't try to chew gum while I'm on the treadmill, that might max out my multi-tasking abilities. ;)

Positives to sweating with the instrument of torture? I do not have to worry about childcare because they were still snoozing, except for Miss M who watched from her high chair with amusement as she ate her cereal. That means I can exercise every day, rain or shine regardless of when the Husband leaves or gets home. I did not have to side-step dead frogs (happens more that you'd think), avoid attack grasshoppers (apparently there is some sort of grasshopper plague? Wait! Frogs and grasshoppers, that's two plagues.), and I didn't have to wait for any gaggles of geese to finish crossing the path.

I did miss the park though. I missed watching the steam rise from the pond, the wildflowers waving in the breeze, the changing leaves, the breeze and even the older men walking dogs that can fit in my purse. At the park, I can get lost in thought more which makes the time go faster (though probably not my pace).

The treadmill will help me reach my fitness goals. I know I have the discipline to hop on every day and I don't have to go anywhere (like a gym) to work out (which is good because I have hermit tendencies) and as I explained above, walking on a treadmill and adjusting my ipod is not as easy as you might think so I don't have to embarrass myself in public as I master that new skill.

Tomorrow I will sweat again. And the day after that. And the day after that. Most of the time, I will use the torture device, but when time allows, I think I'll go back and visit the geese and the grasshoppers and sidestep the frogs.

-Peace

One Perfect Word

2011-09-26T09:44:00.002-04:00

Four letters.

People struggle to define it because it has so much baggage attached.

L-O-V-E

If it is so difficult to define, why do I call it perfect?

We give it, we take it, we fake it, we make it...L-O-V-E..

Love God, Love your neighbor. To love is the greatest commandment. Yet, somehow we lose that in translation, in reality, in humanity. We forget we are called to love (whatever that is) and we say we are showing love by trying to teach, encourage comformity, share truth (often "in love", which so often is instead beating someone over the head with what one believes another "should" do or be.)

It is perfect because in the words of the Beatles, (and God) all you need is love. 1 Corinthians 13 was a reading at our wedding... 4"Love is patient. Love is Kind... 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." and then 8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when perfection comes, the imperfect will disappear.''... 13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

L-O-V-E

Not my knowledge or understanding or belief system.
L-O-V-E.

Everything else can fall away and all that really matters is L-O-V-E.

I am guilty of being less than loving. I make snarky comments. I lack compassion at times. I think harsh or judgemental thoughts. I confess it to you today and I will surely commit these same sins again. I don't want to, but I forget to just L-O-V-E sometimes.

Casting Crowns sings a song, Here I Go Again (and they may not agree with the whole sentiment of this post but they don't have to...), "Father hear my prayer. I need the perfect words, words that he will hear and know they're straight from You...So Maybe this time, I'll speak the words of life with Your fire in my eyes...But this might be my last chance to tell him that You love him..."

This morning I realized the only words of life I need to speak with fire in my eyes...are words of love.

L-O-V-E.

Not "Woulda, shoulda, coulda." Not "Be like me." Not even, "Believe what I believe." Just love. I love you because you are a human being. You are beautifully and wonderfully made. You are loved just as you are.

It's the one perfect word and the love doesn't come from me. I am a vessel, the hands and feet. Whether you believe in what I believe or not. I believe it and so that love can pass through me.

and that L-O-V-E passing through me...is perfect.

-Peace

Reclaiming My Awesome

2011-09-25T09:19:00.001-04:00

A few weeks ago, a very hip mama friend (and when I say hip I mean hip, chic, cool, totally awesome) posted this link on her fb page. I read it and then I linked it to my fb page and then...kept thinking about it. I kept thinking about finding my awesome. Thinking about where I lost it and if I was *shudder* stealing my own kids' awesome.

And then...I had a fb (you see how the ~~crackbook~~ fb is a heavy part of my life, yes?) conversation with another rock star mommy friend of mine about being modest and she responded with something to the effect of, "If you aren't your own cheerleader, who will be?"

Hello! I was a cheerleader in high school (back in the stone age when the cavemen played with a ball made of dinosaur skin. ;) ) But being my own cheerleader? Well, that just wasn't goin' on. At some point I learned that "tooting my own horn" was very, very bad. I waited for others to point out my gifts and even then, I struggled with accepting the compliments I so desperately craved. I was taught, observed or through osmosis, got the message that humility was the way to go. (This is why the Husband calls me Ms. Medium...and he does not value the medium. He values the awesome he sees within the confines of our home, when I actually speak my mind, have an opinion and claim the authoritative knowledge I posses through years of life and several thousands of dollars of degrees.)

Well, my friends...I have decided that I need to follow the advice of the rock star. Instead of downplaying or ignoring the accomplishments, I need to embrace them. Because, I have accomplished some amazing feats! I am wearing some battle scars (after 6 kids, my abdomen is not concave as it was when I was 18) but I have achieved, seen and done a lot! I have a long way to go but no more hiding my sparkly light under a bushel! (Well, it may take baby steps. ;) )

So, I am reclaiming my awesome. It may take me a while and I may need to reevaluate what my particular awesome is, but I am going to put my chin up and say, "Hey world! I am ready to claim IT!"

So join me. Look in the mirror and be your own best cheer leader and say, "You are awesome!"

(Btw...this is totally Biblical. God gave each of us gifts and if we don't show them and share them, they're getting wasted!)

-Peace

Double Digits

2011-09-24T07:24:00.001-04:00

Today we wish *N* a Happy 10th Birthday!

I still remember clearly the day his father, AKA the Husband said, "I think we should have another baby."

We were sitting at our favorite lunch spot, Sutton's. *J* was in first grade, *C* was not quite one, sitting contentedly in a high chair, I was sipping a glass of wine (not a normal midday beverage, I assure you). I almost spit the wine out in surprise. Really. In the Husband's mind, things were going very smoothly with two, *C* was a very easy baby, *J* was doing great as a big brother, his job was good, what were we waiting for, we already had his name picked out. (Seriously, the day we brought *C* home from the hospital, I told him the name I wanted for our next son.)

I'm not sure it was more than a month later when we found out *N* was on his way. And the placid and easygoing *C* started a round of horrid ear infections and I ended up in the hospital with dehydration, then with gallstones...so you see, apparently life was too calm and we needed to shake things up. ;)

The day he was born, 4 days late, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning, not sure I was in labor. I emailed my FIL but didn't mention it because I was sure it was a false alarm. I called my SIL to find out how much warning she needed to get here to watch *C* (none, but I told her to wait), sent *J* off to school with no idea anything was going on, and tried to send the Husband to work an hour away. He refused. SIL arrived unbidden and encouraged us to go (I was still thinking false alarm)... It was a good thing we went because it was pretty intense and it was time. The Husband and the midwife talked Monty Python between contractions. ("Hello, I'm having a baby here, pay attention to me!" ;) )

Life with *N* is not calm, but it sure is happy. He IS our enthusiastic boy. He loves to please and he is our perpetual motion machine. He loves baseball (the Husband is taking him to Cooperstown as one of his gifts), stays up late reading, has a strong sense of justice (particularly as it applies to him, "It's not fair!") and has some "frat boy" tendencies. Our life is richer and more intense and joyful because he is in it.

Catching, his favorite position!

Happy Birthday, *N*!

In Which She Confesses a Shortcoming...

2011-09-21T06:00:00.001-04:00

I have a confession.
It's not a deep dark secret, or maybe it is.
As a homemaker, I am sorely lacking. I love a clean, uncluttered and tidy home. I just....I'm waiting for the cleaning fairy to arrive and apparently she is running way behind schedule.

Now, part of it is that I have offspring who are sorely lacking in the "pick up after yourself" department and part of it is that I just don't feel like it, whatever the "it" is. I do the laundry, the dishes are done. I even sweep up after ~~the food thrower~~ Miss M does her customary baptizing of the floor with whatever she deems inedible on a given day.

But if you were to come to my home today you would find a living room floor littered with Duplos, train tracks, little people and whatever books the lovely Miss M has pulled from the shelves. The counter is piled with school papers, mail, a skein of yarn, books and various writing utensils. (Instead of a junk drawer I have a junk counter. My mother is rolling in her grave...you have no idea. Just one more way I would have disappointed her.)

Here's the thing. Clutter bothers me A LOT. However, I get a little tired of repeating the same tasks over and over and over and over again; tasks that no one appreciates. I clear the counter and a new slew of papers replaces the old. The toys will not be going anywhere for many years.

And then...and then, one of the same little darlings who seems to think every flat surface in the living room is meant as a storage space for his stuff will say, "the house is messy." Sometimes I breathe deeply and respond calmly, mostly I'm pretty sure steam comes out of my ears and my voice can be heard on the other side of the state. (I live in a big state.)

I have made cleaning schedules, I have scrubbed and scoured and organized and felt a huge sense of accomplishment...that fades with the new dumping and tossing and crumbing of the floors.

Part of me thinks Phyllis Diller had it right when she said, "Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing."

At any rate, I really want to get a handle on things...if only because the lady two doors down only comes and knocks when it looks like Fisher Price had a meltdown in here...and she came knocking yesterday....

-Peace

Happy #7!

2011-09-20T09:52:00.000-04:00

Today we wish boy #4 a Happy 7th Birthday! he is being very persnickety about it. He keeps arguing with the 4 yo brother that he isn't 7 until the time of his birth this afternoon which was causing the 4 yo to repeat that *E* is 7 in louder and progressively more whiny tones as we drove to school with 2 dozen cupcakes lovingly made by the Husband last night...after being out of the house for almost 12 hours between work and commute.

(Why, yes, I did marry a saint. ;) he also made *E*'s cake for today. He's just that kind of guy.)

7 years ago we welcomed our fourth son. There was much rejoicing...and much joking about the fact that this was the third son to be born in September. *E* loves a good joke but he is also a tender-hearted soul who worries quite a bit. (Actually, all of my kids have a propensity to worry. I think it's genetic...from me.)

When I reflect on the day of *E*'s birth, I remember how many people came together to help us out, neighbors who babysat and did school drop-off and pick-up and tag teamed childcare for us. *E* was our first seminary baby and in our little "compound" there was a sense of community. It wasn't because we all looked the same, listened to the same music or even espoused the same values about everything.

I think it came from the fact that we all espoused the Greatest Commandment...I think it's because we loved God (why we were all there) and we shared that love in word and deed in love of our neighbors, in grace and compassion; lending a hand, sharing a meal, giving a hug or leaving a joke on your door. We were not all perfect, nor did we all embody this love and grace all day every day, but there were enough glimpses of grace in those many hands and hearts that it made most things that seemed or felt impossible quite doable.

I learned a great deal in seminary, but I think the most valuable lessons were learned outside the classroom among the peers who loved and shared and cared and blessed and allowed us to do the same for them.

*E* (And *I*) were born in that environment. Now we have a church home that provides that love too. As we wish *E* a happy 7th Birthday, I remember the feeling of love that surrounded us then and reflect on the love I am surrounded by now.

I pray that my sweet and silly boy feels that love as he grows and that you can feel it too.

-Peace

"Happy Fastest Service Ever Day!"

2011-09-13T05:41:00.001-04:00

In the wee small hours of this morning, as a 4 year-old slumbered between us, the Husband said, "Happy Fastest Service Ever at Applebees Day Also Known As No Room at the Inn Day."

17 years ago this morning we drove to the hospital for a scheduled induction of our first son, *J*.
I remember listening to "The Things We Handed Down" by Marc Cohn as we exited the highway.

Don't know much about you. Don't know who you are. We've been doing fine without you. We could only go so far. Don't know why you chose us. Were you watching from above. Is there someone there that knows us, said we'd give you all our love.

This was a long-awaited day. Not just because he was our first child but because I had been pregnant for 18 months (Why yes, I felt and looked like an elephant, so yes, I was pregnant for 18 months...no but he was due on August 30th.)

While sitting at the admission desk, filled with excitement, a perfectly coiffed and made-up woman came in, already in labor. I was in awe that it was 7 am, she was in labor and she looked fashion-runway-ready. I was decidely not runway-ready...unless it was the elephants on parade.

The intake woman put her phone down, smiled at me and said, "I'm sorry, but there is no bed for you." Can you believe a bunch of people had the audacity to go in to labor all on their own and stole my reservation?! She told us to head home and they would call when a bed opened up. I put on my brave face, thanked her and we left. Not until I got in the car did I burst into tears.

Will you laugh just like your mother? Will you sigh like your old man? Will some things skip a generation like I've heard they often can? Are you a poet or a dancer? A devil or a clown? Or a strange new combination of the things we've handed down.

We went home and called our family to let them know.   I also asked my mother to please tell my sister who had been calling every day since mid-August not to call me. (I didn't have caller ID, did anyone? And there's nothing like having someone call you every day to ask, "Anything yet?" to get on a pregnant woman's nerves!)

I wonder who you'll look like. Will your hair fall down in curls? Will you be a mam's boy, or daddy's little girl?

A couple of hours later, my doctor's nurse called. "Dr. C asked me to call and tell you there's no room at the inn." Seriously, those were the exact words. I was instructed to come in the following morning and there would be a room for me.

What do ~~elephants~~ immensely pregnant women do when their plans for induction are thwarted? Well, they go out to lunch of course!

When we walked in to Applebees, the hostess asked me when I was due. "Two weeks ago." Never, ever in my life have we gotten food that fast.  McDs is slower! ;) I think they were afraid I'd deliver in the booth. Bwahahaha.

You may not always be so grateful for the way that you were made. Maybe some feature of your father's that you'd gladly sell or trade. And one day you may look at us and say that you were cursed but over time that line has been extremely well rehearsed by our our fathers and their fathers in some old and distant town from places no one here remembers called the things we've handed down.

I don't remember much else about that day. I'm sure the Husband and I played cards.  I'm sure I went and sat in the rocking chair in the nursery looking at his crib all ready for him. I'm sure I reluctantly answered the phone whenever it rang. I know without a doubt that I had no idea on this day seventeen years ago what being a mom would really be like.

You can thank us later for the things we've handed down.

Happy Fastest Service Ever Day AKA No Room at the Inn Day!

-Peace

It's That Day (repost from last year)

2011-09-11T16:02:00.000-04:00

Today is a day that will live on in our memories as one of tragedy and pain, fear and loss.

I was pregnant (what else is new) and the Husband had the day off. We were watching the Today Show with our not yet 2 yo and preparing to go shopping for last minute baby things when we watched TV in horror.

I started to cry as I watched that plane fly into the tower on TV and *C*, seeing his mommy cry, buried his face in the couch sobbing. The whole day (and those following) felt surreal and we were wondering what our second grader would hear at school and would he be worried about his Grandpa living in NYC. *J* heard nothing at school and FIL was safe and fine. (He came to visit the 15th and I was never so happy to see him pull up to our house as that day...I ran out to hug him.)

The evening of the 11th we attended a special worship service out our church. I remember singing "A Mighty Fortress is Our God". I never sang that hymn with as much emotion as that day. It never meant so much to me. Still today, when I sing that hymn, I am transported back to that day.

My heart still aches for all those who suffered and for all those who experienced loss.

I remember people asking me how it felt to be bringing a baby into such a world. I told them that a few evil and misguided people may have brought horrible pain and destruction on thousands BUT millions of good, kind and loving people were out there too. We saw them reaching out to help in any way they could.

We live in a broken world, but God is always walking with us, alongside us. We can choose how to respond, with love and forgiveness or with vengeance and bitterness.

I am pretty certain Jesus would encourage us to love one another to work through the pain.

-Peace

The Wall

2011-09-10T12:47:00.001-04:00

Have you ever hit a wall?

Last week I talked to a friend about the feeling that perhaps I was having a midlife crisis. Things that I was absolutely certain of, things I hadn't thought about in years, things that were absolutes in my mind suddenly became shades of gray. My very wise friend suggested that maybe instead of a midlife crisis, I had hit a wall. Perhaps, she suggested, instead of having a midlife crisis, I was feeling the strain of my lifestyle.

I said, "Perhaps." But I was really feeling so distressed about turning 41 that I really thought I was missing my carefree youth more than anything else.

Until today.

Today I realized that perhaps my friend had a point and what I was truly feeling was that I have "hit a wall."

Grad school, volunteer responsibilities, being a mom to 6 kids, and now a husband with a less flexible schedule (which I am thankful for, don't misunderstand) added to some sleep deprivation have turned me into an anxiety-ridden, verge-of-tears woman who has hit the wall big time.

This is not, however, the Great Wall of China. I envision it like a wall on an obstacle course that I will either need to use my muscles to climb over or my brain to find a way around. It might not be tidy and it might not be pretty...at first...but part of how I have accomplished anything I am proud of is by actually having to work at it.

It will be one step at a time, one hand over the other, one foot in front of the other and I may even need to lean on some others for at least moral support, but I. Can. Do. This. (Yes, I am trying to convince myself. Like any mantra, it works best when I repeat it over an over.)

And...I am so thankful that I have these opportunities to use these gifts with which I have been blesses. I will become more efficient, I will become more focused and if need be, I will ask for a "little help".

I pray that we each can feel free to ask for help when we need it and to be thankful in all things.

Have a wonderful weekend.

-Peace

My Buddy

2011-09-06T20:49:00.001-04:00

Today was the first day of school for the school aged darlings. They all got out the door in decent spirits and on time. Smooooooth. I hope this is a sign of times to come. I hope but I also knock wood and cross my fingers and if I had a lucky rabbit's foot...

After the children got off to school I went to get a fasting cholesterol blood draw. On the way home I thought about hitting the McD drive through. Not really, but Starbucks was sweetly calling my name. I said, "Get behind me!" and drank my water and ate my apple.

Why am I gifting you with the rundown of my exciting morning schedule? Because I did not get my morning walk in the park in until 4:30 this afternoon. This walk has become my exercise and my respite. I love the time to walk and think and listen to my ipod and just be. *N* has asked to join me several times but I always say a resounding, "No!"

Until today. After he was at school all day, I felt kind of guilty saying, "No." when he wanted to spend some time with his dear old mom. I ~~said~~ whined about how I like to listen to my ipod but he has a very endearing smile and I just couldn't turn him down.

He brought his ipod and his dad admonished him to zip the lips and just walk with mom. He chattered happily on the way to the park and then as we got out of the car. I was adjusting my ipod and he realized his had no juice. Uh oh. He said, "That's okay mom. You can still listen to yours." And then he proceeded to point out a turtle. (We took a picture with my phone.) and a dead frog (I did not document it.) and he chattered happily the whole time we walked. I kept the ipod down low because it helps me set my pace, but it wasn't the rock out walking I normally do.

That's okay though. He was happy and he kept up with me. It wasn't the way I usually exercise. I treasure the time alone with my music, but I treasure my jubilant son more. He might not always be so enamored of the walks with mom but it was a great opportunity to hear about his day and see the world through his not-yet-jaded eyes.

I may not always say, "Yes!" when he asks to join me, but I think I will every now and then. After all, he's 9 and can run an 8 minute mile so maybe I need to work out with him more often.

Praying that we each can take the time to see the turtles and listen to the voices whether they be God's still, small voice or the voice of an enthusiastic child. Today I am so thankful for taking the time to listen to both.

-Peace

Sufficient...

2011-09-05T15:39:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I was talking on the phone with a friend, one of the nicest guys you'd ever want to meet. He is going through some stuff and he said to me, "I just keep going back to Paul asking God three times to take the thorn from his flesh and the Lord responds, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. "

I needed to hear that. I believe it is true. That does not mean I have to like it.

Call me stubborn. Call me sinful. Call me human. It's true in the same way that 2 Corinthians 12:8-9 is true.

Stubborn as I am, I argue with the verse, "I won't boast, or become conceited or take any blessings for granted, honest! But a little relief would be very nice right about now, God!" My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.

But, why does it feel like things fall apart or fail to come together? What am I doing wrong? My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.

I can't do this anymore, it's too hard. My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.

His power is made perfect in my weakness. When I am able to put myself aside, let go of it and admit my weakness, God's power can and does shine through. I see it time and time again, in all sorts of ways, but sometimes grit my teeth and bear the deviations with my plans with resignation, looking for ways to save face.

And I am reminded that resignation is a poor response to grace. Grace that saves and heals and comforts and gives life should not be greeted with resignation. Paul, in 2 Corinthians 12:10 says, "That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

Perhaps saving face is boastful? Perhaps when I try to maintain my own pride, I am not owning my weakness? Perhaps, in order to for my weakness to bear out His strength, I need to lose the brave face and the protective covering and just let go. Let go and let God.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

-Peace

Hope and Love

2011-08-31T15:40:00.000-04:00

"It's not a song about money it's a song about love and hope."

So I was listening to a song by "Everclear" called I Will Buy You a New Life on Youtube Art Alexakis, said, "It's not a song about money, it's a song about love and hope." I love to turn this song up LOUD and sing along. I know the lyrics, but I never thought about it that way. Love and Hope...but its true.

When I was first married (almost 18 years ago!) to the Husband, I remember my mother saying his biggest fault was that he wanted to buy me the moon and put a fence around it. She meant it as a good thing, mostly. I don't think she actually believed he would try to buy the moon (or buy me a star for naming rights) but that he wanted to shower me with gifts to show me his love.

My mother, even without reading The Five Love Languages, saw that his love language was gifts. I have written about my inability to recognize this more than once. Sadly, mine is not so I did not pick up on it for a long time. Don't get me wrong, I love to buy gifts, I just don't always accept them well. Ironically, I self-identify my love language as words of affirmation but I struggle with accepting compliments too. (Why yes, I am a mess, thank you for asking? ;) )

We have a lot of love and hope in our home. Except when we don't. Sometimes when enough plans go awry, when enough things break at the same time, when the weight of enough unrealized dreams feel suffocating I need to remember the love and hope of the moon with a fence around it, the new car, perfect shiny and new...

Or that there is at least that desire to do those things. It isn't always easy to remember. I am getting old though. :D

Hope and Love. Gotta have Hope and Love. When it feels like hope is fading I try to find the silver lining. My cup half empty personality isn't always successful and when the cup half full husband struggles, it's a sad day. Usually, looking at the faces of the kids is enough to remind us what is really important.

-Peace

O.N.E.

2011-08-30T20:55:00.002-04:00

One year ago, at 7:23 pm, our family gained a princess. The testosterone levels got tempered just a smidgen when Miss M joined the family.

She has been treated like a little princess since that moment. My heart melted when she was whimpering at 3 days old and the then 15 yo rushed across the room, lifted her up and gently rocked her in his arms. "It's okay if she fusses a little," I said. "Not my sister," was the shocked reply.

That protectiveness is evidenced in all five of her older brothers. Sometimes we joke that she'll never be able to go out on a date because the big brothers will scare the boys away. I usually add that it's a good thing too because the Husband and I won't be able to chase them with our walkers...

You might think we're raising her to be self-centered. I hope not, although developmentally it's pretty normal for all kids to think the world revolves around them.

I do want her to believe she is a princess, that she is valued and special just as she is, uniquely and wonderfully made. Do you see where I'm going with this?

There is a book I saw at convention (there I go again!) called Gigi, God's Little Princess by Sheila Walsh. The story is about a little girl who is always told she is a princess (and she acts like one. ;) ) but she wonders where her castle and jewels are and when she asks her father, he tells her that she is a child of the greatest King; she is a princess because she is a Child of God. When I got home I was telling her Godmother about this cute book. (Even after a year of buying tutu skirts and tights, I am a newbie to buying girly things but Aunt S is a pro with three beautiful daughters (and one handsome son) who already knew all about it.)

This morning among the gifts from her Godparents was a little pink box with the word princess embossed on the outside. Inside was a pendant shaped like a crown, with pink and white crystals. Inside was the verse, "Delight yourself in the Lord." Psalm 37:4.

Oh sweet Miss M, I pray you always know how precious and special and loved you are. I pray that you never need to look to others to feel special or loved or valued. I pray that you know from the tip of your toes to the top of your head that you are loved by your family and more importantly by God who created you with a purpose and that you will "Delight yourself in the Lord." Your brothers and father and I love you so very much, but even as much as we love you, God loves you more.

God loves each of us more than we can possibly understand. I wish I had realized that a very long time ago. I am thankful to know it now and I hope that my children (and you and yours) know it too, and believe it.

-Peace

The Hugger

2011-08-28T16:52:00.000-04:00

I'm a lover not a fighter. My husband may dispute that but in all honesty, you know how some people love a good debate? I. Do. Not. At all. I really find discord unnerving. I find people who try to fuel discord unpleasant. I like to keep the peace, not make waves.

Sometimes though, I recognize that it is improper to just be quiet. Sometimes it is not engaging in drama to speak your piece and sometimes it is totally appropriate to speak.

I am not the greatest advocate for my kids. I am more about blending in with the cement brick of the school halls than I am about speaking up for my kids. I am not proud of it and I am very thankful that the Husband is comfortable filling this role. (Too comfortable at times, in my opinion. Let's keep the waves down, shall we?!)

I am learning, though, that sometimes the greatest sin I can commit is one of omission, of not speaking out or up. There is a poem on an Alfred Tibor sculpture at the seminary I attended in Columbus, Ohio that talks about how one ignored injustices done to other groups and then when they came for the subject, there was no one left to speak out on the subject's behalf. (I wish I could find the exact text of the poem, google is failing me today!) We can blend in and laugh along or we can go against the grain and speak out. We can be part of the mob bullying the different person or we can be brave enough to stand up and say, "No."

I try not to judge, but I do. I try to find compassion, even for the person I disagree with. I do not, you see, always know their story or motivation. They may feel or behave the way they do for a reason and we may never see eye to eye. I am working to become alright with that, to accept that we all have different ways of being and that God has a reason for creating us all uniquely; wonderfully and uniquely.

I am learning to stick my toes into the cold and murky waters, of speaking when it would be easier to remain silent. I am reminded that I can do it because it is right and good and what God would want. I can do it because the strength does not come from within me but from He who created all things.

Praying that in all things we can recognize God's call on our lives, when He calls us to speak and when he calls us to be silent.

-Peace

Mother of the Student

2011-08-26T22:03:00.000-04:00

If you've seen the movie, Father of the Bride, with Steve Martin playing FOTB (father of the bride), you may recall a scene where he went to the grocery store and got a little miffed about the fact that hot dogs and hot dog buns are packaged in different amounts. I believe it got him a visit to a holding cell.

Today I was trying to finish the school supply shopping. All I wanted was a yellow, wide ruled 1 subject notebook, in the store brand. Think "chipper (cheaper) chicken." Every, and I do mean every yellow one-subject notebook I found was college ruled or of the shrimp or filet mignon variety. Then I found some multi packs of notebooks and I slit the plastic wrap open to see if there might be a yellow one hiding in the middle. (I would have bought the whole package, don't judge me!) Alas, there was not a yellow notebook in the bunch, I ended up finding one at the grocery store. They might not carry "my" brand of peanut butter anymore, but they came through with a notebook.

And to be clear, the notebook was not all I ~~wanted~~ needed. I have extensive and extremely specific lists for three of the four school-aged children. The high school senior will come home with his lists the first day of school when the store shelves are picked over and the prices are high.

As I searched the aisles of F-O-U-R different stores, trying to finish the school shopping I've been doing for three weeks, I started to identify with FOTB. I mean, here I am needing all these folders in specific colors (Why is orange so hard to come by in "chipper chicken" brands?), multiple 2" binders in specific colors (also not available in "chipper chicken"), post-its, motivational stickers, tennis balls, flash drives...and I felt for FOTB. I mean really....Are orange folders and yellow-covered notebooks really going to make my children learn that much better?

I have nothing against the teachers and I'm sure they have systems and plans and they have the best interests of the children at heart, but the color of the folders are not going to enhance their learning any more than serving filet mignon at a wedding reception is going to guarantee a happy marriage. (Happy guests, perhaps, unless they're vegetarians...)

I was feeling very agitated and I did start to get annoyed at these specific (and can I add costly) lists. Then I took a deep breath and realized my reaction would not change things. I could refuse to buy the lists of stuff but then my kids would probably pay for my "statement". I could email the teachers and tell them their lists are a hardship, but then my pride would be at stake.

I took some deep breaths, resolved to do my best and yes, you guessed it, I prayed for peace and calm. I prayed that my feelings of frustration and worry would not sour my attitude. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for God's provision.

I do not always agree with or understand why items are required. Sometimes "chipper chicken" is perfectly acceptable. Sometimes though, we have to suck it up and buy 8 buns and 10 hot dogs, just because that's the way things are. In those moments when things are the way they are, peace and patience come from the Lord.

Maybe FOTB should have prayed...maybe then he wouldn't have ended up in the holding cell. ;)

-Peace

Good Soil

2011-08-24T13:12:00.000-04:00

This is the second year we've planted potatoes in a container. As renters we are only allowed to garden in pots and while some people have grand success planting all sorts of produce in containers, we have the most success with cucumbers, hot peppers and potatoes.

The soil in our potato container is rich and dark and the potato and cucumber harvest this year (Which I apparently neglected to take any pictures of) was/is absolutely delicious. The Husband composts potato and carrot peals and other vegetable-type matter in the bins each year and there are worms crawling around...it's a veritable bin of goodness, well to the worms and growing things, it's not where I would want to be if one of my kids built a shrink ray and I found myself trapped outside the size of an ant, but I digress...

My point is the bins are full of good soil. The Husband puts good things in to fortify the soil, give it nutrients and the things to help it help our potatoes and cucumbers grow. If we just tossed random trash in the bins along with vegetable peelings, we would have....a bin full of garbage.

If my heart is full of garbage (negative thoughts, feelings and expectations), (like green sock puppets of sin ) there is not going to be "good soil" there either. When I notice the linty green puppets rearing their heads, I have to make a conscious decision to take that trash to the curb and instead nurture love and compassion and understanding, to read the Bible and to pray. It is work, like tending a garden or raising children, but I'd rather have tasty potatoes and cucumbers than a linty bin of trash.

Lord, let my heart be good soil.

-Peace

It's What You Feel....

2011-08-23T17:21:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I get my feelings hurt. I feel left out, discounted, ignored or slighted. One of my professors several years ago said, "No one can make you feel something, its your perception that gives the emotion."

Okay. Fine counseling words. I learned to try to erase the phrase, "You made me feel..." from my vocabulary and to even think about why emotions are rearing their ugly heads. Imagine little green heads like sock puppets with badges saying things like envy, self-pity, judgement or disdain sneering at you (or me ;) ).

Why do I feel the negative things? Most often it's because I'm letting my own perceptions of a situation impact my emotions instead of taking things at face value with a positive outlook. I'm on the defensive and those green sock puppet guys grow and start to get some serious attitude.

You know what that is, right? Those green sock puppet guys are sin, separating me from God and from His blessings. My own insecurities start to control my feelings and perceptions. Other people don't make me feel, sin and separation make me feel

In Tenth Avenue North's Song, "You Are More," they sing:
This is not about what you feel,
But what He felt to forgive you,
And what He felt to make you loved

But it's not even about what I feel, is it? Not really. I can spend a lot of time navel gazing, worrying about my own bruised ego and hurt feelings. What do I get? An eye full of lint (green sock puppet lint. Yuck!) and a bad attitude.

When I remember to put others first, put the glory of God before myself, my "hurt feelings" (or false perceptions??? hmmm???) seem to shrink away and the joy of serving for the sake of serving gets its proper place of prominence in my life. The green sock puppets of sin melt like the witch in The Wizard of Oz in a rainshower and I am left feeling the love of God. That's the feeling that doesn't come from my own pereceptions and self-deception, but from what He gave to me.

May you feel His Love.

-Peace

Under the Table

2011-08-22T18:25:00.001-04:00

You might think it's uncomfortable lying underneath a table. I'm sure there are times when it would be.

Then again, if you're in a folding table fort decked out with pillows and fleece blankets and some cute guys, AKA *I* and the Husband, it is actually quite cozy.

Choosing to be there instead of doing dishes or schoolwork or any number of chores was mighty pleasant. I could have fallen asleep... errr, well, at least it was comfy like bunny slippers.

I love the moments when we do unexpected things. It wasn't like the parents planned to build a fort for the beasties and hang out. *I* built his blanket and table fort and then invited us in. So often I try to create these memories, anticipating their happiness and I think I try too hard and it loses something in the effort. Perhaps in my imagination I expect greater applause and joy and perhaps I try too hard to contrive moments of happiness instead of letting them come naturally.

A friend was recently talking about how she was planning something, trying to figure out the options and all the while God had been working His plan behind the scenes so things were coming together. Her response to this realization? "Isn't God amazing?!" She was full of thanksgiving and joy.

How great is our God! He can do all things through us and through others. Sometimes a 4 year-old can create the memories and the warm fuzzies for us. Sometimes we can grow full of our own competence and vision and lose sight of Who is holding us all in His hand and making everything we do possible.

Lord, thank You for these gifts and the opportunities to use them. May we use these gifts to glorify You and stop to pray for guidance so that we can further Your plan. Thank You for wrapping us in Your amazing grace and love. Amen.

-Peace

Expectations May Not Match Reality....

2011-08-18T09:15:00.000-04:00

I found this adorable fabric at Joanns the other day.

It screamed at me from the shelf, "Make Miss M a dress from ME!" Okay, it didn't really scream, that would be a totally different problem. But I was looking for fabric with apples to make her an apple picking outfit, because one must have an outfit for picking apples. (It's my first girl, cut me some slack. ;) ) Alas, I have been unable to find apple fabric suitable for the image in my mind. I'm picky like that.

Anyway, now I have this fabric and I have some idea of how I want the dress to look. Not all one fabric, kind of bohemian, a little patchworky. (I need some coordinating fabrics. Shucks, I must go back to Joanns. ;) ) I found some patterns that sort of resemble what I want. (pinkfigpatterns.com) but not exactly because a fall dress in my neck of the woods usually means long sleeves.

There is another issue. I am not an expert seamstress. I mean, I can follow a pattern but I haven't perfected things yet. (This is why knitting is so nice, you just rip it out and start over, no cutting out etc.). There is a part of me wondering if I should even try to make the dress in my mind's eye for Miss M. It very well may look like something a 10 year-old made for her doll. (And I'm not talking a gifted 10 year-old, I'm talking me at age 10. : D) In my mind, it does not look like that, it looks adorable and perfect and like something I would proudly (pride may be a problem) dress her in for church. :) What if it turns out looking like Cinderella's castoff? That's time and money and well, pride. :O.

Only time will tell. A lesson I've heard it from my builder brother my whole life was reinforced yesterday. "Measure twice, cut once." Apparently, I mismeasured Miss M because the adorable circle skirt will fit her next fall or maybe the one after that. The good news is, at just under a year, I could have sworn her waist measured 17"...apparently it's considerably less.

I could write a whole bunch about how God has a pattern for our life and no matter how we muck with it, He will use it for good. I do believe that. I also believe that trying to make the dress is the most important part because it's about the journey and the process not only the destination or the final product. I just want the product to be wearable (and cute and to match my expectations.) Just sayin'.

-Peace

Rolling. Silent But...

2011-08-17T10:45:00.000-04:00

So today I read something and I found myself rolling my eyes.

When I roll my eyes, there is usually something snarky on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth filter is working so I don't say it our loud and the finger filter was functioning, so I didn't type it out for my facebook peeps to read.

My heart filter wasn't working though...because I did roll my eyes and I did feel snarky things in my heart. My feelings are my feelings and my thoughts are my thoughts but that doesn't make it right or good or in any way acceptable. You see, I can feel a certain way, but if in my heart was judgement or disdain for another person, is it any different than tossing stones at them?

If I dislike or disagree with another human's words or actions, do I have a right to sit in judgement, no matter how much I want to or think it's funny or whatever? Even if I am right and the other is so patently wrong...in my opinion... should I exercise my eye socket muscles?

No. Not so much. It's neither Biblical or kind. State my own opinion or outlook? Yes. Keep my opinion to myself? Yes. But the snarkiness is like poison for my heart and others hearts too. I might as well toss little pebbles by the fistful or pitch larger stones or maybe heave one big ol' stone, because it's all the same. And we all know what Jesus said about throwing stones, right?

Lord, please help me to tame my snarky thoughts and rolling eyes. Help me to remember that judgement and unkind thoughts tear down everyone, even me. I pray for the kindness of heart to do as Jesus would do so that I can be a builder of things just as He was.

-Peace

My Village

2011-08-16T08:08:00.000-04:00

So there's that saying about how it takes a village to raise your kids. Some people will quip, "I've seen the village and I don't want them raising my kids."

I am fortunate to have an awesome village. It isn't geographic though my neighbors are nice. My village is my MOPS ladies (Yes! Those women again!) and our church family. We moved here four years ago and so we haven't had a ton of time to build relationships, but the blessing of MOPS and an amazing congregation have given us a place to belong, feel welcome and call home.

That doesn't mean it's all smooth sailing. It doesn't mean it's all sugary sweet, because people are human and we have different opinions and the stuff of life goes on and on. If it was sugary sweet, it wouldn't be real or if it was "real" how healthy could it be? Just think of all the cavities!

I am thankful for my village of people who care enough to celebrate in the good times, but not to turn away or judge in the less than perfect times. It is in the bad times, when they can stand beside you and give you a hug and offer a shoulder or a tissue that I know how awesome my village is. I love the times of laughter and of joyful celebration, don't get me wrong. It's just good to know that your village isn't full of fair weather friends who only want to hear the answer, "Good." when they ask, "How are you?" (I'm not advocating spewing all your stuff as you say a passing, "Hey!" at VBS drop off, don't get me wrong. There's a time and a place, but if you need a shoulder, it's okay to ask then, too.)

I'm reminded of the theme song from the sitcom "Cheers":
Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.
Wouldn't you like to get away?
Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows your name.

It's not so much about escape, as about community. People that understand that everybody has worries and "stuff". My village gives me a break from my worries because I can see that I am not alone, that I have people to shoulder them with me, to listen and to pray.

I pray that you have a village of people to love and support you, in the great times and the not-so-great times. We were created to live in community and I pray that you have a community, a village, that blesses you with love and joy and shoulders, that you and your village can be His hands and feet to one another.

-Peace

Sponges

2011-08-14T19:44:00.000-04:00

Do you use a sponge in your kitchen? They can be useful to absorb spills or to wash dishes. Sometimes though, they can pick up bacteria and that's not a good thing.

When a child comes to me in tears, it usually it means they got hurt, either on their own or with the aid of a sibling. (I'm not proud of the sibling squabbling, but sometimes it happens.)

Last night, *E* burst into tears and asked to be excused from the dinner table. "What happened?!" I asked. "Did you bite your tongue?!" He just shook his head no and kept sobbing, big tears rolling down his cheeks. I brought him up to my room and shut the door, snuggled him close, rubbed his back and waited for him to be ready to tell me what had made him so very upset. "It's hard to say," he said. Now, let me tell you my heart just about sank to my toes and my mind went to some dark places.

"I'm worried that there will be poison gas and Miss M will die while she's a baby." Okay, now I was baffled. "Did your brothers say something about poison gas? Where did you hear about that?" Still tearful, he said, "At school." What?! Apparently he saw a movie about environmental problems and they said something about poison gas and he has been thinking about it and worrying about it for months. Poor little man.

I reassured him that we lived in a safe place and that daddy and I would do everything we can to keep he and his siblings safe. This little guy was so very worried about his baby sister, it was heart wrenching. He got worried about it again today and started to cry and the Husband snuggled up with him on the couch and talked to him, reassured him too.

I love that my kids can be sensitive and I remember being worried about things I saw or heard as a child. It just goes to show we never know what will impact a child or how they will respond, or even when.

Kids are sponges. They are getting information from us, from their siblings, from television and movies and whatever they are exposed to. While the intent of the movie *E* saw was to educate him about taking care of the environment, he became frightened about worst case scenarios and how they could impact his beloved baby sister. Kids overhear parts of conversations and misunderstand. OR....they could sit in worship on Sunday and hear the pastor preach on a loving, forgiving God (even while doing a word search) and soak that up too. They can hear us pray, or say "I love you" or "Thank you" or "how can I help?" and know that it is good to pray and use manners and care about others.

Kids are sponges that soak up good and bad, happy and ugly. My job as a mom is to keep checking on the sponge, making sure it doesn't have "bacteria" that could harm them growing unchecked. I am so thankful to have other "bacteria fighters" on my team; the Husband, friends, our Pastor and lots of other trusted adults that know and love and care about their well-being. But, the biggest "anti-bacterial" of all is God who loves and protects, heals and cleanses even in the midst of all the yuck that a sponge can pick up.

-Peace

Focus and Press On

2011-08-11T10:24:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I was feeling a little overwhelmed. There was so much noise, not from the beasties, but the static of life in all it's glory, that I could not focus my attention on what mattered, or even figured out what it was that did matter.

I thought the problem was that I couldn't hear myself think.

I was ready to clear my plate of obligations. Instead of discernment, I was experiencing a little bit of fight or flight response. Fortunately, after some time, deep breathing, snuggles with the kiddos and prayer, I was able to refocus. The static was drowned out by the still, small voice as I listened to Him. I didn't need to hear myself. I was getting in my own way.

I like to repeat that quote, "Life is what happens when we're making other plans." There is a Yiddish saying, "Man plans, God laughs." Sometimes my plans don't work out the way I expect or plan. Sometimes, I do think God has a tremendous sense of humor....and timing. Sometimes I do not understand God's plan, but often, if I give it enough time, I can see a purpose and His blessing, even in the "unanswered prayers" of my own spoiled plans.

I do not need to clear my plate to hear, I need to clear my soul and tame my prideful heart. I need to focus not on myself, but on God.

Last night as I read Paul's letter to the Philippians, I came across this verse, "...Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (3:13b,14)

I will press on, focus on the future, not on myself and the noise I create in my own head but listening for the still small voice that will direct me. I guess God can be the ultimate white noise, drowning out the nonsense and bringing peace.

-Peace

Risky Business?

2011-08-09T14:44:00.000-04:00

I am working on a project right now. When am I not working on some sort of project? This is not a hands-on sewing or knitting or cooking project It's more of a presentation for an interview.

I was discussing my plan with *J*, the oldest beastie, and he turned to me with mild alarm on his face. "You can't mention religion!" "But they're interviewing me because I have a Masters in Theology."

You see, my public school educated son was concerned that mentioning religion would be akin to shooting myself in the foot.

After my initial knee-jerk response, I gave some thought to my son's words and we were able to talk about exactly what he meant and what I meant and how it would all go down. Now, he may be right, I may be crazy. The institution may feel that any mention of religion in any context, even my historical reference, is unacceptable. Guess what? If it is, then it is not the place for me. I am willing to take that risk.

In case you did not notice (as if!), I just returned from a MOPS convention. MOPS is a Christian organization focused on nurturing mothers. I am a Christian. My worldview is shaped by my faith, a faith that was strengthened and energized through my experiences this weekend. If anything, my experiences solidified my boldness to declare I am who I am. I know who He was and is and what He did and now I cannot forget who I am because He is within me. (Do you need a map or a chart to follow that? ;) )

Does this mean I need to be in your face, or anyone's, about my faith? No. (If you're reading this, the title should tell you what you're probably going to get.) If I am living authentically, I hope I remember to act with grace and mercy, compassion and generosity. I am imperfect and so frequently I fall short but, living out my faith is more than a Sunday morning worship service, more than a Bible study, more than saying grace at dinner. It is a way of living in this world. It is in the actions and the silent prayers, the laughter and the tears, the mercy and love that faith becomes life-giving, hands and feet of God living.

If being who I am shoots me in the foot, I can handle that. What I'm not sure I can handle is ignoring the One who died for me.

Praying for a balance of boldness and sensibility, honesty and discernment at all times and in all things.

-Peace

Home Again, Home Again Jiggety Jig!

2011-08-08T11:04:00.001-04:00

Or the long, long ride back home. Thank goodness for wonderful roadtrip buddies. 5 women, 1 minivan, heavy traffic and a detour could have been ugly. Very, very ugly. Instead, we kept laughing even when "Nasty Nancy" kept pushing back our arrival time thanks to road construction, fair traffic and rain.

When we were travelling the road less travelled, also known as the road that went around the construction and traffic jam, we experienced a little history.

Here we are at Abraham Lincoln's Birthplace.

I am changed. Plain and simple. I feel amazingly blessed by this experience and by the women with whom I shared it. I learned so much about them, from things they said and just from being in their presence. I learned about myself, too.

The first evening of convention, Sara Groves sang a song called, "Twice as Good".

When I am down and need to cry till morning

I know just where I am going
when I'm in need of sweet commiseration
to speak out loud

Raise a glass to friendship and to knowing
you don't have to go alone
we'll raise our hearts to share each others burdens
on this road

With every burden I have carried
with every joy it's understood
life with you is half as hard
and twice as good

With my good news you're dancing on the table
babies born to celebration
the joy of life oh what a sweet communion
shared with you

I know we're growing older
can you imagine what that will bring
it's all a mystery to me now
but this one thing
will be half as hard, and twice as good.

This is what MOPS has given me. (And I cannot leave out some dear sweet friends who I am blessed to know), my Sisterchick (You know who you are!), and my Sistah's (a shout out to my KKGs, one of whom I saw this weekend! Small world,) and lots of other women who have made my life amazing just by being a part of it.

Now I am home and hanging with the amazing Husband and tremendous kids and I know I am a better wife and mom (or at least I will try to be) because of the gift that was this weekend.

Praying that each of you have the gift of amazing people to lift you up, support you, pray for you, laugh with you and cry with you.

-Peace

The End of Convention..Or Renewal

2011-08-07T08:15:00.001-04:00

It's kind of being like being sent forth, really. Reignited for the mission and the ministry.

On the last full day of MOPS convention, Lauren Dungy referred us to 2 Timothy and Psalm 111 she told us to, "Use sound judgement when faced with difficult and ambiguous information." "Relying on God, is the only way to be a sensible mom."

Later we heard a little from the author of MOMSense, Jean Blackmer. What is "momsense" you ask? That is mom intuition common sense.

A photo of our group with the author, Jean Blackmer (2nd from right)
Jonalyn Fincher spoke to us about prayer. We heard her speak at MOPS summit and I think we had a little Jonalyn Adoration society. :) Can I just tell you she has an amazing way of sharing theological understanding? She would not be unhappy to see me refer to it here as feminine, as if she is going to ever read this! LOL. (Read her book, Ruby Slippers.) She spoke with candor and vulnerability, empowering and encouraging us to pray all sorts of prayers. "If you can pay attention, you can pray." Her admonition to anyone who might feel as though our prayers go unheard or responded to, who may feel as if their faith was not great enough, perhaps not even as big as a mustard seed, sieve it through the filter of, "Is this something God would want?"

Jonalyn with a few of us. She is 2nd from left.

After this, we took some time to see the sites at the Gaylord, Opryland. Some of us took a boat ride through the Delta section and enjoyed some other amazing sights! That place is HUGE and GORGEOUS!

Convention finished with an amazing gift. Mary Beth Chapman shared her story. I want to, I must, read her book, Choosing to SEE. Steven Curtis Chapman performed. Wow! Wow! Wow! I heard him sing "Cinderella" live. I swear there were those little packs of tissues making their rounds all over the room. I get teary every time I hear that song, reminded that in the midst of lots of busyness, my children will be growing up and I will not always have the opportunity to dance and play.

I feel as though I did not do justice to this amazing, empowering, inspiring day.

We ended our day, again, with laughter and conversation around a dinner table. After joining hands, we prayed, taking turns, going around the table, sharing our thanks, our praise and joy in the nurture of our relationships.

We embarked on this journey knowing each other, but I am not alone in recognizing how much I have learned about my fellow travellers. (I talked a lot (shocking, I know! ;) ) so I know they learned about me.) I also listened and payed attention. We took this journey together because we have a passion for MOPS. Convention fanned the ember of our passion into roaring flames and now, we are going home. Home to share what we heard, just in time to reignite the ministry for the new season of MOPS to begin next month.

As we hit the road today, I pray for travelling mercies. I pray that the passion we grew over the past few days for sharing the MOPS ministry will continue to burn brightly and that we will be an encouragement to each other as well as to others even when the flames get doused by life's realities. May we turn to each other in those times so that we can pray for one another and encourage each other.

Shelly Radic said last night, something to the effect of, "We don't have a superpower, we have a divine power flowing through us." Can I hear an, "Amen!"

-Peace

Laughed and Cried and Laughed 'Til I Cried: Day 2 MOPS Convention

2011-08-06T08:47:00.007-04:00

There were moments in our amazing adventure that is MOPS convention when I had chills. There were moments when I was fumbling for a tissue and moments when I laughed 'til my face hurt.

As Travis Cottrell led us in the opening and had a couple thousand women singing "Oh Come Let Us Adore Him." I got goosebumps. Seriously. It was that beautiful. It reminded me of the lyric in "The Little Drummer Boy", everyone in that room was giving their best for Christ and all around me were beautiful, passionate voices joined together in praise. Wow! Lots of women (and a few men, who let them in?! joking!) all worshiping God is a powerful thing, y'all! (I just love "y'all" and I am in Tennessee.)

You know what I LOVE about MOPS? It is relevant to me. Me with 6 kids ages almost (gasp) 17 all the way down to almost a (sob) year!

Shelly Radic spoke about gifts, and in doing so told a story of an ill-fated harmonica and her own teenage son and I was relieved to hear her story because if her teen can act well, as the Husband would say, "his age", then it is okay for mine to do so too. Then we saw a video of Kendall Parkhurst's 3 yo and 9 mo son's delight in a 99 cent whoopie cushion. That, too, is my life. Oh, the humor of boys. :)

In a nutshell, THAT is why I love MOPS. I have a lot of answers (most of which begin with, "Every child is different...") but sometimes I just need to know that I am not alone. Because of MOPS, no woman has to mother alone.

And not only that, we learned that is is Biblical to say, "My, your butt is miniscule." What woman does not need to hear that? Lisa Harper had us laughing until our cheaks hurt but also gave us food for thought and shared with us that when we see God clearly, we can live out our gifts boldly. There were points, too when I had tears rolling down my cheeks. "God doesn't just notice you, He gazes at you..He delights in you." "Jesus is not just on our team he moves heaven and earth for us!" We had the opportunity to meet her and she signed books for us.

In other sessions, I learned more about public speaking and about MOMSnext. We laughed and talked some more. And walked and walked. Got lots of freebies at the resource fair

And then came General Session number 2.

We laughed at the the humor of John Banyan. He finally explained a great mystery of life, God created woman from man's rib and that was the rib men used to read minds! A ha! Now I know why the Husband cannot read my mind. After that, the floor was literally rocking with the energetic, high powered performance of Mandisa! Awesome and inspiring!

After a long, inspiring and passion-filled day, we enjoyed a leisurely dinner, laughed and talked some more. We collapsed into bed and are ready for another day of praising and growing and learning to be Bold, Loving and Sensible leaders as well as mothers, not just in MOPS but in the world at large.

-Peace

Well-Fed: Day One of MOPS Convention.

2011-08-05T08:31:00.000-04:00

My first MOPS convention experience. Wow. I have so much to share and so little time and space (and a spotty internet connection.)

I can honestly say that the MOPS Storyboard session last night was amazing. I do wonder whether one of the speakers has been hanging out inside my head, though?

Kathi Lipp referred to women feeling like they get pecked to death by a thousand chickens and as God is my witness, and some of my boys might confirm (they're spotty on memory and I might have sounded like the Peanuts adults...:Wah Wah Wah...") I have said several times in the last few weeks, "I feel like you're a chicken pecking me to death!" These darling children of mine are, in a word, needy. Mostly, they need things revolving around food and the kitchen and there is apparently a sensor that means they need whatever they need as soon as my butt hits a chair. (Pecked to death by chickens, I tell you! Maybe I should make them chicken costumes for Halloween?! Nah, too many feathers would end up all around my house.)
Much of her message resonated with me. I am already living out my story though. I may have put life on hold a little bit when my first son was born, but I am following my dreams, some of which I am afraid to say out loud to most, but I am moving forward. You know what scares me though? (Mom Sanity issues ;) ) What if, in the process of pursuing my story, my dreams and my goals, I am not there for one of the ~~chickens~~ kiddos when they really need me? That is something I will need to work out. My amazing Husband has assured me that, as a team we can do this. I suspect he has more faith in me than I have in myself.

HOWEVER…the key theme of the night, not only through Kathi Lipp but also through the beautiful music of Sara Groves and the preaching of Max Lucado (I know! Talk about a gift for the soul!) was that it’s not my list I need to focus on, it’s not done by me! Me, me, me, getting pecked by chickens, me! It’s about God, blessing us through the pecking, blessing us through the trials, blessing us through the anxiety, being there for us in the moments and refining us through the failures. God.

Max Lucado, spoke of Jesus being within us. WITHIN us. Jesus’ heart beats in us and when Satan accuses us (he accuses me daily in my head and I let him because I forget even though I am told Paul writes a mighty 216 times of Jesus living within us), when Satan accused us he is stopped short by the pure heart of Jesus beating with in us. Can I hear a collective, “Wow?” How about and, "Amen!"?

And Sara Groves' amazing music and stories spoke to my heart. What a blessing her music is. She sang a song that had me sobbing into my mini-kleenex, dabbing smears of mascara away. About wanting children to be free, to go away, but "don’t forget to call your mother." Totally buying her CD(s)!

Our evening ended with an amazing dinner at Ravello at the Gaylord. The six of us, our flying lady met us at lunchtime, talked and ate and laughed and ate and some of us ate some more. After an amazing feeding of the soul, our bodies were well-fed too.

Lord, I thank you for bringing so many women, moms, together to hear this message of hope and grace. Thank You for giving me pecking chickens to nurture and cluck at. Thank you for writing my story. Thank You for holding us in your hands through the joy and the stress of each and every day. Thank You for bringing me here with an amazing group of women. Lord, I ask that you grow our relationships and help us to live out who you created us to be, that we may be a support and comfort to one another through it all.

-Peace

The Journey Begins: MOPS Convention 2011

2011-08-04T07:16:00.000-04:00

Or ,Wow, road trips without children are different.

Yesterday, 4 ladies and I drove 8 hours in a minivan. The time went amazingly fast. We had one bathroom break and one stop to eat. No one whined they were bored. I did not have to mediate disputes and the only snappish voice was that of Nasty Nancy, the GPS, who peevishly told us she was recalculating when we took said bathroom break and dinner detour.

8 hours in a car is 8 hours to talk and to listen and to laugh.

In so many ways, it reminded me of the road trips with my sorority sisters a lifetime ago. (Okay, the radio wasn't blasting like back in the day.) My MOPS ladies are trusted friends, confidantes and sisters too, sisters in Christ. We are all women with a common goal and focus of supporting other women, mothers, on the path we're all walking together. Sometimes we lead. Sometimes we follow. Sometimes we prop another up on the journey. Sometimes we speak out. Sometimes we hold our tongues. Sometimes we flat out disagree. Through it all, we pray and ask God to guide us and do His thing.

Lord, thank You for all the amazing women you have brought into my life through MOPS. I feel so blessed to have these relationships and opportunities to nurture others and to grow myself.
8 hours in a car is an opportunity to learn about others. It is also an opportunity to learn more about You.

Wishing you peace and blessings in this day. If you're at MOPS convention, maybe we'll meet. (I am so excited to attend Storyboard this afternoon!) If you're at home, you can find information at MOPS.org. If you're a mom and don't belong to MOPS (yet) you can find groups in your area at the website. (There's a group or preschoolers, a group for moms of older children (MOMsnext) or, if you don't fit into either of those groups, perhaps you can mentor other moms. Think about it, not for me, but for you.

The roadtrip ladies on the way into Graeters for ice cream.

-Peace

Thank You, Husband.

2011-08-03T09:00:00.000-04:00

Today is the day I leave for MOPS Convention. I sit at the counter typing away instead of ironing (pointless before packing you might say, but I can't help it) and packing.

I will return home Sunday evening. The Husband will be flying solo for the better part of 5 days and I am not worried, not one bit. He is well-equipped to ~~herd cats~~ parent our 6 kids without me around. They will be well-fed, bathed, in clean clothes, properly supervised and entertained while I am away. The house may even be in better shape on Sunday than when I leave today.

So, today, I publicly thank the Husband for being a great parent and spouse and life partner. He shares the daily grind and doesn't flinch. (Well everybody flinches a little, right? Otherwise, you're just foolish.) I am so thankful that he encouraged me to go to convention. I am thankful for all he does as a father and a husband and I don't say it nearly often enough. Thanks, Hubs, for being the man you are and for modeling what a husband and father should be to our kids.

Gracious Lord, as the ultimate Father, thank You for your guidance and your model of love and care. In each day, may we strive to be more like you as we walk on this earth. Thank you, God, for blessing me with a great husband and father for our kids. I could not be the mother I am with him or without You.

-Peace

Hitting the Road...

2011-08-02T22:25:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow I'm climbing in a minivan with some cool women and we're driving to Nashville.

It's a road trip with some brilliant, funny, resilient and supportive women.. I'll be hitting the road with some MOPS ladies to attend MOPS convention. This is my first time but I have wanted to go for years. Last year I was great with child and tonight I gave her extra snuggles and inhaled her baby shampoo scent. I've never been away from Miss M overnight. I've never been away from the kids this long at all and you know what? I am okay with it.

I will miss them (mostly, the teenager is making me twitch lately but I was brattier at 16 than he could dream of being, not that I'm going for a "who's the worst teen" throw down). Mostly, though, I am excited for the opportunity to get away with women I know who have a common goal, to be the best moms and women and leaders they can be, all for the glory of God.

I have written about my love for MOPS before. I love that MOPS is a place where I can build relationships with other women. We might not have the same hobbies or passions or politics. We might not live in the same neighborhood or attend the same church. We might not even have the same parenting philosophy or fashion sense. However, we come together and bond in the unity of our shared roles as mothers and as women of faith.

When I attended a MOPS summit this spring, a speaker said, "We must keep our MOPS focus on Jesus because if we lose that focus, we're just another' mom's club." Not that there is anything wrong with any mom's clubs, but that what makes MOPS special for us is our focus on God and faith.

I am attending convention with women with whom I have worshipped and served but I look forward to knowing them better; nurturing our relationship. I look forward to meeting other MOPS women from all over the country as we attend workshops and hear speakers. I look forward to being open to the still, small voice of God and the big moments where I hear Him loud and clear.

I look forward to this adventure, this opportunity to grow and grow in relationship with God and with other women, mothers, friends.

Prayers for travelling mercies for all those heading to convention, for anyone travelling, really. I pray that wherever you are, you find blessings and opportunities to grow and nurture others in their growth. There are opportunities all around us, may we embrace them and fully enjoy them. May we all look forward to opportunities and embrace the moments we're in right now.

-Peace

What's On Your List?

2011-07-31T18:35:00.005-04:00

What makes your wallet cringe? What fills aisles with frantic people clutching rumpled lists in sweaty palms?

A popular television ad sings, "It's the most wonderful time of the year!"

I am not talking about "Black Friday" sales the day after Thanksgiving, I'm describing "Back to School" shopping. Judging by the lists everyone is carrying, there is a goal to put stores "in the black" a few months sooner selling folders, (one of my boys needed 25 folders 5 in 5 colors, plus two. Why yes, his list really does require TWENTY SEVEN folders), pens, pencils, erasers, stretchy book covers (remember the old days when we used paper bags?), and binders (my boys only need the 2" and 3" in specific colors), etc. etc. etc.

Now, I am not writing to complain. Honest. I have never met their teachers and I am sure they have reasons for the lists and the supplies and that they are very nice. Please don't be angry at me, teachers.

Regardless of the who and why, the "back to school" aisles are filled with anguish. And it's not even the kids being gloomy about going back to teachers and tests and mystery meat in the cafeteria. No! It's the poor parents trying to figure out what to buy and how they are going to pay for it.

A total stranger stopped me to ask my opinion about two fancy binders, the brand is recommended on her daughter's list but there are two options, which is better? I was baffled. It could have been that they were pink and pink binders are just not my area of expertise (yet), or it could be that when things like this come up, I drag said child along to ~~torture me with whining and rolling eyes~~ choose. I happened to be standing with a friend who is a mother of daughters so I invited her into the conversation and she in turn asked her daughter. As I left the school supply aisle, the woman was on the phone asking her daughter which one.

I will be the first to admit I take this seriously. If I do not have the proper supplies for my kids, what might it say about my parenting or how much I value education? Will my kids be in trouble or teased if I do not buy the right stuff? I know I am not alone because the aisles were packed with people more intense about their sweaty, crumpled lists. What if these extensive lists are a financial hardship? While there are donation sites all around, what if the sites cannot fulfill the needs or people are uncomfortable asking? What kind of stress does this put on families? And to what end?

I understand that budget cuts mean families need to supply more stuff, but where do we draw the line? How much stuff is too much? Is all this "stuff" really going to make them learn better?

I don't know. I don't have the answers. Their lists are pinned to the wall, items checked off, supplies piled neatly in my closet. We still need things but as my friend said today, doing it in little bits takes some of the sting out.

I just keep thinking about the tablets and shared primers Laura Ingalls Wilder referred to in her Little House books. Hmmmm.....Going to school was simpler then, although the primers and tablets were a hardship for some. Maybe it's all about perspective? Or maybe the teachers own stock in folder manufacturing?

-Peace

My Best Thinking...

2011-07-30T08:29:00.002-04:00

Where do you do your "best thinking"?

As a mom of six kids, it can be difficult for me to complete a thought, at least a thought that makes sense.

The other day I had to plan a sample lesson and I was stuck at the beginning. I could not wrap my mind around the whole thing. It was like I had thoughts floating around in some colored water but I could not get it to "gel" into something that made sense.

Then...then I took a shower. That is one of the few places I am alone. There was white noise and I wasn't bombarded with constant ~~whining~~ needs and wants and stuff. In the shower while I washed my hair the idea came together. After getting dressed, I sat down on my bed (no one knew I was out of the shower so I was still alone) and started writing. I wasn't quite finished when little people came in, but I had enough of an outline that the idea stayed it's pretty shape instead of melting into a puddle.

When I was in seminary, I remember talking to a class mate about the fact that my best ideas came to me while I was in the shower but I often "lost" them before I sat down to write. (Talk about brain drain!) He said he had the same issue (and he had no kids to ~~blame~~ distract him. :O ). He told me that he kept dry erase markers in the shower and would jot down ideas on the shower walls. I've never tried it but it sounds like a good solution. (Should I have a disclaimer here that I do not endorse that as I do not know if they would fully wash off of grout, tile, or other shower surfaces?)

Anyway, the white noise and solitude of the shower helps me to think but it's the regular noise and action of my life that gives me the ideas and inspiration and passion to do most everything I do. It's a balance.

Delicate may not be the best word to describe it, but it is complicated.

The complications in life make it interesting but I do not always respond gracefully to them. I put myself in time-out yesterday. Actually, I stormed upstairs to wallow. In the quiet (I was alone which shows how unpleasant I was to be around, not one person wanted my company enough to follow me) I heard that still small voice that sent me to my Bible and Luke 12:22+. "Do not worry." That is the whole point of the passage. God has you covered. God has us covered.

The complications, the "what ifs?", the "what will go wrong nexts?" are going to happen whether I worry about them or not. What I do with the complications I can control. I can use them to grow and learn or I can simmer and fester. One is productive and allows creativity, one gets smelly and rancid.

My best thinking sometimes blooms in the quiet, but the seeds are planted and grow in the complications. When I do not worry, I can fully "see" and experience and live fully. I can do my best thinking.

Do not worry.

-Peace

My Name is...

2011-07-28T08:27:00.005-04:00

Hi folks. My name is Stacey and I have a problem.

I have become a little bit addicted to sewing, or planning to sew or reading tutorials about sewing cool stuff.

Seriously. made and craftinessisnotoptional have become my favorite blogs to read. They inspire me and empower me. Yes, I can make skirts and ooh, look at that bapron (bib) and what about those diaper covers?

The tutorials are great. The projects are cute. All I want to do is sew nifty things. I drool over fabric websites. (Well, not literally, thank goodness. My keyboard is not waterproof.)

I guess you could call this my new passion. I still love to knit and scrapbook. Knitting is a great take a long and scrapbooking is a social hobby. It's just not the same when I scrap by myself.

Sewing is a great opportunity to be creative and inside my own head and it's productive. There is a tangible product at the end. I love hobbies that give me something useful at the end. I think I justify time and money by their usefulness and it is so much easier to quantify the value of a useful item, like clothes we actually need rather than intangible things.

That is not to say that intangibles do not have value. Some of the most precious things we experience can be neither seen nor touched. Love. Joy. Faith. Grace. We can try to use words and gifts to describe and express them, but they are uniquely experienced by each of us. But when I am choosing how to spend my time, things that provide for the family are justifiable while television is definitely mind candy. Candy is an occasional treat. (Occasional is a relative term.) Reading crafty blogs, on the other hand, is research. What? It's true! ;)

So, I have found a new hobby that I am embracing passionately. I am sure that the newness will wear off and it will become less of an obsession and more of a "to do", but it allows me to repurpose and be frugal and creative and how can you not love that? Well, maybe you can not love it, but I love it.

Praying that however you spend your day, it feeds your heart and soul and mind, even if it's a bit of candy that gives you joy.

-Peace

Be Bold

2011-07-27T08:33:00.003-04:00

"Cuz it's been fear that ties me down to everything." Nichole Nordeman, Brave

This morning, I was reading a MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) newsletter discussing the theme for the coming year and I had a moment of clarity. Or perhaps it was conviction? Whatever it was, it gives me a new way of looking at my SOP, Standard Operating Procedure.

In the article, the author, Alexandra Kuykendall, writes about the MOPS theme of the coming year, Bold. Loving. Sensible.. She notes, "If we are sensible but lack boldness, our offers of help may go unnoticed."

One of my frustrations is that I feel as though I am discounted because I am perceived as timid or inactive. Perhaps I am lacking in boldness. I find that I err on the side of sensibility, thinking things through, mulling them over, working out the pros and cons. I want a complete picture before I speak. this means that sometimes I over think things.

Because I am afraid. Afraid to bite off more than I can chew. Afraid to suggest something that sounds foolish. Afraid to fail.

Sensibility is a good thing. Mostly. But it can also be a way of hiding. Sensibility can prevent me from thinking outside the box, from pushing the envelope, from being all that I am created to be.

I have written enough developmental autobiographies in grad school to be able to tell you where this comes from in my upbringing. It's my mother's fault, and my father's and my brother's and sister's...it's (almost) always the family's fault, just ask a family system's theorist. ;)

My goal is to find the balance between bold and aggressive; to assert myself nonconfrontationally. How do you tell someone they're stepping on your toes when you're all on the same team?

I guess you pray about it. Duh!

If I was more bold, I bet this wouldn't be an issue.

I've spent a long time hiding behind my cloak of ~~invisibility~~ sensibility, now I need to get a little bolder. I don't need to tell anyone they're stepping on my toes, I just need to wear brighter shoes so they can see where my feet are. :)

Praying that as we each grow into who we are created to be, that we can do it boldly, lovingly, sensibly.

In the words of Martin Luther, "...Sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly."

-peace

PS. Don't forget to click on the Topmommyblogs button to the right to read lots of other cool blogs!

A Milestone

2011-07-25T18:38:00.002-04:00

Milestones are not just for babies.

Today my oldest son achieved a milestone that fills us with fear. He can legally drive a car without another licensed driver in the passenger seat.

Not only does that make me feel ancient, but seriously, I really have to take my own advice and wrap him in prayer because this is one more step into independence and well, there's a reason our car insurance rates DOUBLED today.

Wasn't it just yesterday that he spoke his first word, took his first steps, learned to write his name? Wasn't it just yesterday that he learned to ride his bike without training wheels, and now he's driving a vehicle weighing several thousand pounds?

I am blessed to have his younger siblings for distraction. I recognize that I have the (dubious) privilege of experiencing each of these parental milestones a few times. By the time Miss M gets her license I will be an old pro (old being key).

Being a mom teaches me over and over and over again to be patient and to have faith; to recognize that I am not in control and that I can lead and set and example but that children are not puppets. (It would be soooo much easier if they were.)

Lord, thank you for blessing me with the opportunity to experience these milestones, even when they leave me feeling unnerved. I know that in the process of trusting you and letting go, I grow too.

-Peace

The Three Stooges Go To Church

2011-07-24T09:59:00.003-04:00

The whole eight of us were there but as I looked down the line of little ahem darlings, I saw the three stooges gathered around a pretty girl, AKA Miss M, and her body guard AKA her daddy.

The paparazzi should have gotten a picture but I could not snap a picture right then because that would have been wrong, we were in church and all. They were trying to hold her hands and tickle her feet and give her hugs, because they don't live with her or anything like that. (Rolling eyes).

We try to keep them quiet and well-behaved in church. Honest. For the most part, they do alright. The younger ones are learning and how can you learn without, well, being in the thick of it. For some reason the lure of Miss M is just too much and they had to love on her no matter how much the body guard scowled, shushed and firmly pushed their hands away.

Now, here's my confession, I was glad they were not all hanging on me like that. I did try to quietly refocus the children, hold *I* by the hand and on my lap but whenever I put him down he was drawn back like a moth to a flame.

Someday, they will all be able to sit in church, pay attention and worship. Some day. Right now, we are teaching the three stooges, and the others too, that being in church and worshiping God in community, is a positive and powerful thing. There they have lots of adults who know them by name, ask about their summer, comment on their new glasses or joke with them.

Yes, even the three stooges are part of a loving community of people who understand they are young, need to be taught and nurtured and loved right where they are, spiritually and developmentally. They are encouraged through loving examples to be a part of this community, not because we make them, but because their hearts and souls are fed there too.

Today I am thankful for my three stooges and their brothers and sister and all of our brothers and sisters in Christ who bring the Word to life.

-Peace

Anything or Everything or What?

2011-07-22T14:54:00.003-04:00

I have want to do lists, need to do lists and should do lists.

I might write the lists but I only get to dictate what is on one of them.

The needs and shoulds are more pressing and sometimes I can find the silver lining in the most mundane of chores. A clean bathroom is so wonderful, reading Chicka, Chicka 1,2,3 one more time really makes *I* smile and that makes my heart all warm and fuzzy.

Sometimes, though, I just want to do what I want to do. (Whine. ;) )

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Reality.
Reality who?
Reality is that you're a mom with 6 kids, a husband, school and volunteer responsibilities, you can't do everything. Or can you?

Yesterday I came across personal productivity guru David Allen's quote, "You can do anything, but not everything."

My initial internal response? "Says who?" Other than David Allen, I mean.

I know the saying, "Jack of all trades, master of none." I know that spreading oneself too thin can lead to lackluster performance. What I don't know if if I have to choose or if I can do the things I need, should and want to do all equally well, if I use my time more efficiently.

Proverbs 31 talks of a very productive woman in society. She gets it all done and then some. Some contemporary writers (I do not remember who or where, sorry) say the author is writing of an ideal, that it could be a group of women working together, but that for one modern woman to hold herself to that ideal is unrealistic. I'm not so sure.

A few years ago, my boys and I read Farmer Boy together. I was struck, as I read, exactly how much the mother did all day, every day. I mean, I whip up some cookies with my Kitchen Aid stand mixer, not by hand. I have the washer and dryer, not a washboard and a line. (We change clothes more often than they did.) Our conveniences have made us feel like we cannot accomplish as much. We don't have time to do things and yet we have all sorts of time-saving devices. Personally, I believe my time-wasting devices negate any time-saving devices I have.

We have choices. One of the choices I have is what to do during the 24 hours I have each day. I can prioritize the needs and shoulds and even wants. It is easy to get distracted. I just don't want my distraction to lead me to believe I cannot do anything or everything or whatever is in the middle.

The woman in Proverbs 31 does many things, but nowhere does it say she does all of them every day. She rises early each day and fills her day with multiple tasks. So does every woman I know. To suggest that her life is an unreachable ideal for us sells us all short.

Instead of seeing life as a list of things not crossed off our list, perhaps we need to end a day honestly looking at all the things we've done and being thankful for that. If we want to get more done, can we honestly evaluate where our time went. Just like you plug the leaks in a pipe, can we fix the leak in our well of time wasters that distract us and prevent us from accomplishing the wants and needs and shoulds?

I know I am a work in progress, but I also know if I stop wasting time, I can do everything on all three of my lists. It just takes discipline. I guess that is the strength I will ask God to help me with today.

-Peace

Proper Planning and Preparation

2011-07-19T12:38:00.002-04:00

There is a military saying, "Proper planning and preparation prevent poor performance." (I admit I left a word out that also begins with a "p" but since I try to keep this clean... ;) )

I am all about planning and preparation. I get my work done early because you never know what might happen in this crazy house. I make lists, I plan and organize. As I wrote the last time, I was ready for my weekend of school.

Yeah, well...another quote I love is from Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry."

Awry is the stomach flu. Not the kids or the Husband. I would have left them to fend for each other and headed of to school spraying Lysol and rubbing in hand sanitizer as the door shut behind me. I'm warm and loving like that. Err I mean, I have confidence in the Husband to nurse the kidlets back to health. No! I got sick late Friday night and it lasted through Saturday. I had to email my teacher, get a medical excuse and try not to freak out about missing school.

I had stopped feeling stretched and was confident and comfortable. I had a plan and goals. Then the ick began and all my goals and plans were in the toilet. All the proper planning and organization and focus in the world did not prevent the unpredictable ick.

Fortunately, I slept the day away and Sunday morning I felt better, emotionally and physically. I could not help being sick. The weekend did not go as I had planned. However, because I was prepared for school, I was not behind.

We cannot always anticipate what may happen. We can plan and prepare but when our plans go awry, because of the ick or because things and people do not respond the way we'd expect or like, we have a choice. We can give up or we can adjust.

One thing I know for sure, proper preparation prevents panic. (Sort of. ; ) )

-Peace

Stretching

2011-07-15T08:27:00.002-04:00

This morning when all was still relatively quiet I was still in bed, Miss M snuggled up in my arm where she had been since she started fussing at 5:30, I was reflecting on all the things I needed to accomplish today.

As the sun was rising and I was still half-asleep it all seemed quite peaceful and peace-filled. My mental list flowed and I saw how easily I would be able to sit down, commit my mental list to paper and then cross each item off.

Perhaps I was dreaming?

At 6:40, *I* came in. "Good morning, Mom!" He was full of joy as he climbed in to bed with us. Miss M popped up and started giggling as she tried to climb off the bed. Daddy caught her as I went to wake up *J* for Driver's Ed. I picked up Miss M and *I* and we headed downstairs to where *C* and *E* were already sitting. (Why, yes, I do have early risers.)

The morning chores began- feeding little people, mediating disputes and making coffee. My list, crystal clear in the dawn's early (and peaceful) light became a little muddled. After the immediate needs of the brood were met, I poured a cup of coffee and began writing a grocery list and a "to do" list. The grocery list was on the "to do" list as were some school projects.

I have school this weekend. On my list are finish tweaking my paper for submission and prep for an exam. getting the paper submitted is weighing on my mind. I sit down and fire up the laptop to get started in the relative quiet. And then, the Husband starts up the stairs asking the boys to be quiet so mommy can work. As the bathroom door closes behind him, the bickering begins. Really?! I was annoyed and then I felt guilty.

Have you ever heard that prayer/joke about the mother Thanking God because she hasn't lost her temper etc with her kids and then at the end she says how she hasn't gotten out of bed yet? Well, that is how I felt! Before I got out of bed, I had this day covered. I got out of bed and reality hit.

I know I need to breathe and pray and bite my tongue a bit but sometimes I just want to stomp my feet and yell, "Could you give me five minutes to complete a thought!?" Do you want to know what I did today? Keep wondering. ;)

I sit here drinking my second cup of coffee and the paper has been submitted (because I would not be writing here if it wasn't). The Husband went to the grocery store after dropping the boy off and after I shower I am going to prep for my exam.

Sometimes being in school and having a children stretches me and stresses me. I do not always respond the way I would like to. I try to take everything in stride but sometimes the pressure I put on myself and the family I love very much are pulling me in opposite directions and I feel like I'm going to be drawn and quartered.

It is in these moments when I begin to wonder and worry. I start to think maybe I'm not being the wife and mother God has called me to be. I pray for guidance and wisdom and things settle down.

My path is not the right path for everyone but both my journey and destination are opportunities to bring glory to God.

Sometimes stretching can tear me apart. Today I remembered that stretching can bring growth, too. Thank You God, for helping me stretch and stay in peace today. (Pun intended.)

-Peace

I Can Do It Myself

2011-07-11T20:15:00.009-04:00

That's a fairly typical preschool phrase, isn't it? They're learning about being independent and testing boundaries and yet they still have limitations, both in capability and in what they are allowed to do. Sometimes as a mom I have to say, "Yes, you can, but no, you may not." That does not make me popular, but I'm okay with that.

Lately I, too, have been saying, "I can do it myself." I do not think I'm superwoman and I am getting better at asking for help when I need it. I am learning that needing other people to back me up is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength and wisdom.

What do I want to do myself? Make things. I mean, just because everything is mass-produced in a factory now, it doesn't mean I can't do it at home, right? (Well, except shoes. I cannot see myself picking up cobbler skills any time soon. LOL)

It started with the skirt I made a few weeks ago. I followed online instructions and it was a perfectly serviceable skirt but it was too full and long and I felt frumpy. My seam ripper and I spent a couple of hours (it took forever and three days, I think) and took apart the skirt, adjusted the pattern and remade the skirt. Now it is great! (I even got a compliment on the skirt when I was out shopping! That totally made my day!) Since then I made another skirt and I've been contemplating making more. It's a great casual summer skirt.

Now I look at clothes and I think about how it could be made at home by me. I am by no means an experienced seamstress but it's fun to plan and try and learn. I am only limited by....time. I like to do a lot of things. I realize that while I enjoy many things, I also have many obligations and people counting on me to read stories and pitch wiffle balls among other things.

I want to do things myself instead of having them done by a machine or a worker on another continent. I am not superwoman and I have not found a way to manipulate time so I am going to have to pick and choose and prioritize.

I want to do it myself. I can do it myself. I have a choice though. I can make it or not. I can spend an hour on facebook or I can spend an hour reading a book. I have the power and the freedom and the ability to choose. How awesome is that?

I am so thankful that I have the ability to do everything I can do. I try not to take it for granted. I do though. Sometimes in the midst of whatever I am doing, I will stop and think about it and I will say a prayer of thanks and praise. It is in the knitting and sewing and pitching of wiffle balls and reading that I see the way little blessings and opportunities in my life are so incredibly special.

I see that all the things I can do myself are actually done with the help of an amazing God.

Praying that we all can see the blessings in the everyday things.

-Peace

(You can click the TopMommyBlogs button to read lots of other great blogs!)

The Rally Cap

2011-07-09T08:08:00.003-04:00

Last week *N*'s team was down a few, like 6, runs. One of the boys on the bench said, "Come on guys, rally caps!" A bench full of nine and ten year-olds turned their caps inside out..and started fighting for the win.

This morning I came downstairs and *E* was already in uniform...with his cap turned inside out. "Look mom, I have my rally cap on." The game hasn't begun so I'm not sure that's exactly positive thinking, but it got me to thinking.

Life has thrown us a bunch of lemons lately and I am getting tired of lemonade. The sweetness has come from recognizing the blessings of our children, our family, friends and our church.

When the van died as I pulled into my driveway on Thursday evening, I was starting to think my life was like a country song..well the car dying at least. The Husband hasn't left, we don't have a dog but you get the picture right? "Play the song backward" went through my head but...I don't know that I want to trade the blessings I do have for other things line up. Can't they all just line up? Right now? In my timing?

I whined about this to God. "Other people have their lives work out, why not us? I try to do what You want, Lord!" Oh I was whining and feeling a little (or a lot) sorry for myself.

This morning I looked at *E* and I turned to the Husband and grinned. "Maybe," I said, "We need to have a family rally cap."

What would that look like? I don't think we all need to walk around wearing baseball caps inside out, although it would be an interesting fashion statement. (I can see the 16 year-old rolling his eyes now.)

Perhaps it is a state of mind? A renewal of spirit; family team spirit and the Holy Spirit too. Perhaps our rally caps are strengthened by a little armor and a shield of faith.

Ephesians 6:13-18

13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people

Today, I will turn my proverbial cap inside out. I will keep smiling and praying. I will put on the armor of God and not lose hope. It's time for the family to rally.

Oh, and if you're wondering...the score of the game was 19-12. *N*'s team won. :)

-Peace

(Don't forget to click on the top mommy blogs button!)

Something New

2011-07-07T09:53:00.002-04:00

In the right hand column---> is a new button you can click on, "Top Mommy Blogs".

Top Mommy Blogs is a ranked niche directory of mom blogs. Our members blog about all aspects of mommyhood.

I blog about mommyhood and, in my desire to grow this piece of my life, I sought out some advice and one of the wise people I spoke with suggested I get hooked up in this way and so, I applied and *gasp* they accepted me. (This where I do that Sally Field, "They like me, they really like me." LOL)

What does this mean? Well, it means that if you read this blog and you like it, see value in it, think ~~everyone should be exposed to my witty writings~~ others would enjoy it too, you can click on that button and it's like voting for me. If I get enough "votes" then my pages will rise in rankings and then will get more visibility.

Not only that, but when you click on that button in brings you to a directory of lots of other cool mommy blogs and you might find some new and interesting blogs to read. That means new information, new insight and new cool people to meet in the blogosphere.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for your comments, public and private. (I haven't been able to comment much, there seems to be a glitch that keeps looping me to a log-in...I'll keep trying though.)

Thank you for feedback, insight and support. Thank you for listening to my voice and sharing your own. :)

-peace

Smile Umbrella

2011-07-06T08:12:00.012-04:00

The other day I decided to turn over a new leaf. I have written about the diet and exercise demon with which I battle, but that is not the tree I was climbing. Perhaps it's in the same forest, but I decided to scale the tree that is positivity.

I am, by nature (or nurture?) something of a pessimistic, glass half empty, person. I made a vow to change that attitude, stop mulling over hurts or perceived insults and just let a smile be my umbrella. When a criticism, negative or judgemental thought came into my head, I made a conscious decision to put a stop to it and move on. Whether I felt snubbed, wanted to think like the fashion police or just felt a bout of "woe is me" coming on, I just didn't wallow in it.

It was surprisingly freeing and required far less energy than venting, stewing or trying to think of a way of addressing the snub (real or perceived) in a passive-aggressive way. I was prepared to face anything that came my way with love and self-awareness. I wasn't stuffing my feelings, I just wasn't letting my thoughts control my feelings and actions. Yes, I was practicing cognitive-behavioral therapy on myself.

And then...something happened that snuck in under my resolve and I started to wonder if this person was humming, "There's a sucker born every minute..." I started to wonder if I was being cynical or just cautious. Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean someone is not trying to "take you for a ride."

My smile umbrella was blown inside out by this doubt and suddenly I felt raw and vulnerable. What if you trust someone and they make a fool of you? What if they take your money but don't do what they promise? What if you think someone is your friend but when you reach out to them, they ignore you? What if?

Jesus answers my, "what ifs." Jesus knew someone was going to betray him. He KNEW! It was inevitable, necessary even. Jesus knew one of his disciples would deny even knowing him. He KNEW! Jesus didn't change course, he didn't call people out by name. Jesus loved.

I am not Jesus. I am human; weak, broken and afraid. However, I have such freedom in Jesus that I do not have to be a slave to the doubt and fear. I don't have to be a "sucker" but I also am free not to let the cynicism spread to all other areas. Caution is wise, don't misunderstand. However, sometimes just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean you have a reason to be.

I guess the key is to remember that God gives me the strength to do all things and I can try to model Jesus. Remembering his love, grace and mercy always makes me smile. Now that's a BIG umbrella.

-Peace

-Peace

Happy Independence Day! (Risk and Reward)

2011-07-04T22:14:00.006-04:00

You would think that in a house with 6 children, 5 of them boys, noise would be fairly common, right? I mean, kids are loud anyway, but boys...how many scrapbook stickers have I seen describing boys as "noise with dirt on them".

It would stand to reason that said children would be accustomed to noise. Not. So. Much. The 16 year-old accuses me of having the car radio too loud. (What's wrong with that picture?) The 6 and 4 year-olds cannot tolerate going to the fireworks. Granted explosions are not common place at casa de testosterone (no would-be mad scientists in the house, yay me!), but they don't like loud noise as a rule and they are walking loudness, unless of course you ask them a question and they're sitting in the way-back row of the van, then they adopt library voices, because that's what my kids do, use library voices everywhere but in the library...or church.

So instead of being at the fireworks on the Independence Day, *I* and *E* are sleeping in a tent in the living room. The Husband, *J* and *N* are enjoying the rockets red glare, while I keep the ~~home fires~~ television going. (Fireworks from NYC, volume and climate control from the comfort of my living room.)

Sometimes I worry that the boys will miss out on too many things because they are afraid. Sometimes fear is a good thing. It prevents us from putting ourselves in unsafe situations. The fireworks are safe, but if they are faced with other issues which give them that feeling in the pit of their stomach that screams "unsafe" I want them to trust it. If someone suggests they try elevator surfing or swimming in posted waters or whatever other risky behavior is facing them, I want them to be afraid, be very afraid...and say, "No!"

Not everything that fills us with fear can actually harm us. A professional fireworks display should be safe even if it is loud. We can fear all sorts of innocuous things. We have to discern what is real danger and what grows teeth, or fangs, in our imagination but is actually quite safe.

We need to understand risks versus rewards. For *I* and *E*, the reward of going to the fireworks was not worth tolerating the noise.

There are risks and rewards in life. In 1776, the Founding Fathers had to weigh risks and rewards. I am thankful to have the freedoms I have today thanks to the bravery and risk of so many men and women in the armed forces. Thank you! Happy Independence Day.

-Peace

Pitching and Parenting...

2011-07-01T06:48:00.011-04:00

*N*, 9, loves to play baseball. This is his fourth season playing and the first season he is playing kid-pitch. He has been hit by a pitch at least once in every game he has played. Fortunately, they haven't gone higher than his waist. Yet. He is able to shake them off, take his base and move on.

*N* loves to catch and will gladly don the gear and chatter the batter's ear off. It works for him. He is, however, a lefty and I have been informed by people who know more about America's pastime, people like the Husband, that lefties are not catchers as they move up. Not that we're expecting him to play major league ball or anything, but even in high school, righties have an advantage in this position.

Last night *N* got the opportunity he has dreamed of since the start of the season. He got to pitch. And...he hit a kid in the shin. As soon as it happened he was yelling, "I'm sorry," to the hitter, or was it the hittee. This batter did not shake it off. He took a couple steps and then crumpled to the ground. The boy was helped to the bench and pinch runner took his place on first.

*N*, our own ball magnet, felt badly. He wanted to pitch and wants to keep working on it, but pitching is different than when he chases a player down between home and third. (He's small but scrappy and fast.) As the pitcher, he was trying to throw a ball that was in the zone but not something the batter would hit, far different that pitching a wiffle ball to his younger brothers.

Pitching changes depending on who you're pitching to. Parenting is like that too. There isn't one right way to parent each child, even if they're siblings. There is no one best discipline technique or even response to a behavior. Personalities and circumstances can and should inform how we respond. Just like a pitcher will handle a righty or a lefty differently, a parent should have the awareness that each child needs a different type of discipline and reward, too.

There is one major difference between pitching and parenting you're looking for a sweet zone. The difference is, as a parent you and your child are on the same team, you don't want to strike him (or her) out. I don't usually think about life in baseball terms like ahem someone I live with. I guess the season is having an influence. ;)

-Peace

Hands

2011-06-30T18:28:00.002-04:00

A long, long time ago, a boy took me to see the movie Beaches. He told me later that he took me to see that movie so I could cry on his shoulder, and I did. Seriously. Big tearful sobs.

Today as I was hitting the seek button on the radio, one of the songs from the movie came on and I remembered the scene where the woman knows she has the same heart disease as her mother and she is frantically looking for a picture of her mother's hands. For her, the similarity of their hands is very important.

Frequently I look down at my own hands and see my mother's. I am not great about using hand cream, so my hands are often dry and cracked like hers. I have my mother's hands..and her high cholesterol. Remembering that scene from the movie, thinking about my mother's first heart attack at age 47 and her death from heart disease at 62 and 3 days, I found myself sinking into despair and frustration. I know what I need to do to be healthier but I cannot seem to stick with an exercise program and I do enjoy cookies.

By the time I got home from my errand, I was in a mood. I was snappish and well, not very nice. The truth is, I am angry at myself for not making changes and sticking to them. It's much easier to blame other people for my weaknesses than take responsibility. If it is this difficult to give up cookies and commit to exercise, I am really glad I don't smoke or need to break another addiction.

I look at my hands and see my mother. I remember how difficult it was when I was 10 and my mom had her first heart attack. I do not want my kids to go through that. I don't want to be unhealthy and yet...each day I fail to stick to my plan. I find excuses.

There are many things I share with my mother- her hands, her dark hair, her perfectionism. I'd really rather not share her health history. I need make changes. I need to stick to them.

A little less talk and A LOT more action. I guess it's all about deciding whether I want to suffer through an exercise program or suffer through something much more unpleasant that will negatively impact those I love the most.

I pray that I can follow through with exercise. I pray that when I fall off the wagon, I get back on instead of giving up.

-Peace

Baking and Life Are All About the Process

2011-06-29T21:37:00.009-04:00

The mountain of yumminess above is thanks to this recipe at smittenkitchen.com for homemade Oreo cookies.

Today I decided I needed to try it so when the Husband stopped at the store and bought me ~~headache reliever~~ a bag of coffee, I asked him to also bring home a pound of unsalted butter.

After dinner, I cleared and cleaned my kitchen counter, or an area to accommodate the mixer and cookie sheets, and got with it. Poor *I* kept asking, "Are the cookies ready?" Sadly, they weren't cooked and filled until after he was not so snugly tucked in. If he were snug, he wouldn't have come back down to ask again, which did get him a promise of a cookie in the morning. They have flour and eggs, don't judge me. ;)

Baking these cookies is fairly simply but also a process and it requires a little bit of patience. Most of the great things in life are like that, don't you think? For instance, the butter in these cookies needs to be at room temperature in order to blend in with the other ingredients. The cookies needed to be the proper size and bake at the proper temperature and then cool before being filled with the frosting which also needed room-temperature butter. (Please don't tell my doctor about the butter.)

In life, like in baking, there is a time and a place for short cuts. Sometimes the short cuts work out and sometimes, all I end up with is a mess. When I was younger, I would have tried to rush the cookie process along, taking short cuts to get it done. As I have gotten older, I have learned to appreciate the process, the journey, as much as the goal.

Life is an adventure. I have discovered that the intended goal is not always as desirable as it seemed from afar. Often, the journey is where I find the most joy and growth, even if the road has been bumpy and filled with detours.

I didn't have any detours in my baking tonight, but as I have shared before, my life hasn't exactly worked out how I planned it. I think that's because God has a recipe, a plan, for me that I am not fully privy to. I try to be aware and pray and wait, but my timing is not God's timing. Let's face it, God has the patience of well....God has an infinite amount of patience and time and I've got a schedule in mind that isn't quite lining up with His. Perhaps I'm taking shortcuts, perhaps I'm skipping a step in God's recipe. Perhaps, I just need to wait...some more.

Since God's not finished with me yet, I am going to enjoy the process, count my blessings and see the gift in this time.

Oh, and I'm going to enjoy the cookies too.

-Peace