You might not want to hear this

As I sit here inside my big picture window, I can see the American flag flapping majestically in the wind across the street in my neighbors' yard. And I feel a surge of pride and emotion right now. There's no one singing the National Anthem, or God Bless America, but so what? That's my flag. The flag that belongs to the greatest nation on earth; by God's grace.

Men (and women) have fought relentlessly to defend her and that which she represents: freedom and liberty. The freedom which allows some of my fellow citizens to burn that very symbol of freedom and hope. The freedom to vote. The freedom to speak out against things with which we disagree. And yes, the freedom to take a tax payer funded trip around the world and declare that America isn't the super power she once was. I warned you that you might not want to hear this.

I disagree with my president on that one. This is America. We love our baseball and apple pie, but we love those things because we love something greater. We love our country and her people, and we have overflowing compassion for other countries that are in need. Our status as a super power is used far and wide to be that shining city on a hill. Our men and women in uniform, past and present, have given the greatest sacrifice they could to ensure that. My grandfather was a witness to what happened on D-Day. He never had much to say about it. He didn't care to relive it, but it doesn't do anything to dampen my gratitude and sense of pride. What he did there continued the swell of what we get to do here. Are we sinful and depraved? Yes. We murder the unborn. God, forgive us. Are we self serving? God, forgive us. But we have the freedom to worship as we see fit. We are truly a blessed people, and may God see fit to continue to display His mercy to us.

Thank you, our veterans, for what you do for us. The American spirit is strong, and will not be snuffed out. I love this country, and I thank God that I can call it home.

I Could use a Starbucks Run

My mind often wonders over to that difficult topic of home schooling and legalism. Well, topics, I guess. One doesn't have to affect or influence the other, but often they get horribly tangled in the same web.

I spent years of my life just taking it from people; advice, criticism, discipline, even. Ah, the joys of Daddy's being a preacher man. And there are; but there's a lot of other stuff too.

I'm reading Charlott's Web to Jack again right now, which I love. What a wonderful book. And what an interesting way to look at my life as that web that Charlotte weaves, writes descriptive Wilbur words in, and then watches the wind and other elements of nature tear her web to shredded strands. A thing of former beauty. That's me. I can try with all my might to appear as something other than what I am, but inside I'm that torn web flapping in the wind. God has a plan specifically tailored for my life, as He has one perfectly tailored for yours. Will life be bump free? No. We are being sanctified and made whole, but we won't be what we were completely created to be until we rest in Jesus' arms.

Part of the struggle for us as those fallen creates who, I remind you, were created just "a little lower than the angels," Psalm 8:5, is our desire to tell those around us how to live, how to raise our families, and whether we should buy organic. But our lives should be about how we can best glorify God in our day to day. But I fail at that, as do we all. Jesus is our Gospel; our choices should not be.

My hat's off to those moms who homeschool, soak their whole grains, and make their own mascara. Yes, I said mascara. I'll just go buy that at Walmart, send my kids to school, feed them mac and cheese (with broccoli), and hum "Jesus Loves Me."

Thoughts on being refined

"For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe." 1 Timothy 4:10

What a month it's been for me. My baby #1 started kindergarten and seems to still be transitioning smoothly. Thank you for all of your prayers. While we were on vacation on South Padre Island, he said more than once that he was looking forward to seeing his friends from school again.

Our vacation on SPI turned into a 4 day rain fest and then ended with Rich's being the unfortunate recipient of food poisoning. Watching it happen to someone was enough for me. I'm thankful that it wasn't a bug so that I could get us the heck out of that place last Saturday. That was a part of Texas that neither of us was fond of. On part of the drive we passed through Refugio. I told Rich it should be renamed "Refusio," like "Refuse." There ain't nothing there, or in the entirety of what is referred to as The Valley. A very deceiving label, indeed.

On our way home we were stopped at a check point. I chuckled and said to Rich, who was hanging on by a thread, that we were about to see some of our govenment employees at their finest. And they didn't disappoint. I rolled down my window, and the immigrant employee who was packing serious heat said to me, "Are you citizens?" And then he proceeded to stick his head in the window and eye my children with authoritarian suspicion. "Oh, please," said I to myself. "Yes, sir. We're citizens." And I hit my window button as quickly as I could so that the important man wouldn't hear my snicker. My husband, who reserves his coy humor for the best scenarios, said, "You should have asked him, 'Citizens of what?' 'Mehico?'" Oh, well. It was pointless, and our little joke about the lack of seriousness that seems to be the security of our borders. Sleep well, my friends. Because if you say "yes" to the question, you're in.

I've also lost a friend this past month due to circumstances beyond my control. That's the hard part for me; beyond my control. I have prayed, given advice, tried to be a good listener. And, Mom, if you're concerned about who will read this, don't be. She has cut me out of her life. I saw that she even removed herself as a follower of this little blog. She missed nothing. I have been so enlightened during our current Sunday school class concerning Jesus being what SHOULD unite us as Christians. But sadly, we don't operate that way. We compare, and nitpick, and back stab, and look down our own noses at those who aren't like us. Jesus came to heal the sick. He hung out with prostitutes, and lepers, and tax collectors; bottom feeders. But for those who trusted in Him for their very breath, they were the richest of all. They could see beyond the struggles of this life when they encountered Jesus. They stopped running for an earthly reward and instead set their eyes on their eternal reward.

Sadly for this friend, our loving Jesus isn't enough to keep us friends. I know that she is hurting, and I am sorry for that. I wish that I could fix it. That's one of my flaws; I want everything to be okay. What, if anything, could or should I have done differently? I may never know; until this friend comes back to us. I hope that she can find a church family where she is loved and content.

I know that I have. And I am so thankful for these people every day. Being a part of this church has changed me in many ways. And it's all due to God's work in me through His people who have shown love to my family in countless ways. What a picture of Heaven.

A piece of my heart goes to kindergarten

So as we're getting ready for our first day of kindergarten, we ceremoniously break out the camera for all those pictures that will go in his baby book, and that's when it makes its ugly, glaring shortcoming known. Rich asks me, "Um, have you charged this lately?" Nothin.' Dead as a door nail. Completely, 100%, totally DEAD. Break out the shovel and put this thing 6 feet under kind of dead. So, I head for the charger and let the miserable Fuji Film start the recharging process. So we had to resort to the iPhone. I heart that iPhone, really, but I don't know how to get those pictures from said phone to my hands so that they can join the baby book picture family. "We are fa-mi-ly!"
Dear hubby kept reminding me that Jack would take his cues from his mom. Translation: if you're a blubbering idiot in the morning, there's a good chance that he'll be unsure of this new chapter in his life. Me? A blubbering idiot? Two words. Steel and Magnolias. 'Nuff said.
Rich went with us to school and waited in the car with Things 2 and 3 so that the transition into the world of kindergarten would be a little smoother. I asked him if he wanted to hold my hand, to which he said no. Oh, my beating heart. You little precious piece of my beating heart.
But as the day progressed, I realized that we have a 5 year old child who has been doing this school thing for 3 years now, and, you know something, he's pretty well rounded. Praise be to God that he isn't a shaky little leaf, afraid of the world around him. It might just be the first day, but we got this. By God's unfailing grace, we got this.
I haven't heard a lot about his day other than it was good, but I do know that his teachers have been added to my prayer list, just like his preschool teachers were.
Will asked me this morning at about 9 am if it was time to go get Jack from "his 5 year old school." Maybe it will be even easier the next time around. Not easier to let go and trust him to someone else for a few hours a day. Not more hours a day than I'm with him; that's simply not true in our case. Just easier to be happy for my children when they walk away from me on that first school day, knowing that they sit in the palm of God's hand. And there's no better place for them to be.

Sometimes a Light Surprises

By some miracle, Emma is still asleep so I am going to start my day by talking to my computer screen. "How are you?" "Can't complain."
I've been compiling a list of reasons in my mind for why Rich and I decided to choose the schooling path that we did. And then I realized, after giving a reason to some for why we are, that all I need is to be in agreement with my husband (and my mom's opinion is pretty important to me). So I gave her a jingle on the telly yesterday to ask her, "Do I just think I have your support for putting J in public school, or do I have it?" She said yes, absolutely. Good stuff.

A few days ago Jack and I had a pretty intense phonics, penmanship, sight words session that lasted about an hour. Can we say eager beaver? It was a lot of fun for me too, but my brain was fried when we were done. And then I remembered that when I was completing my student teaching in college that last semester of my college career, that I knew without a doubt that I would teach if necessary, but not because I wanted to. I tried desperately at one point to change my major, but I already had more than enough hours in my degree, and my counselor advised me to stick it out. She told me not to feel stuck, but to see it as a degree in my not-passionate-area, and to do something else. I did. I got my MRS.
But, we as parents, all know that learing happens all the time. I swear, if I had a dime, no a nickel, for every question that gets lobbed in my direction, I could hire a gardener.


"Mom, what's the biggest bird that lives in the rain forest?"
"Mom, how do you spell coelophysis?"
"Mom, why doesn't everything that's above ground fall into the ground?"
"Mom,if clouds weigh so much then how do they float?"
"Mom, how did God name all the animals?"
"Mom, if Elisabeth (Stevens) comes back from Germany in 3 years, how old will I be?"


So, that's science, some physics, specifically, and some math. Thank God for inquisitive little minds that want to know. I forget too quickly that learning can be fun. By the time I got to college I just wanted to get this thing over with, in a lot of ways. Okay, I'll take that and that because it will get me the hours necessary for my degree.
So, I don't feel guilty for not schooling my kids at home. But I'm also trying to be an encouragement to a friend who is schooling hers at home and doesn't feel 100% supported by some around her.

The Gospel is about Christ's ministry to people of all classes, lifestyles,and in the New Testament He was very gifted in shutting down the Pharisees when they would point and tattle tale. Much like children. Hmm.
"Let him who is without sin cast the first stone," He told them concerning the woman caught in adultery, in John 8:7.


We all have opinions on everything and we like to hold those opinions above others.' It's a part of being human, a part of being fallen. "Your desire shall be for your husband and he shall rule over you," Genesis 3:16
In my moment of returned doubt last night I googled quotes by CS Lewis, who I just hold in such esteem. Thank You, God, for CS Lewis, who had a gift for seeing things for what they were and calling them out. I found this one that's on my facebook page right now.

‎"The human mind has no more power of inventing a new value than of planting a new sun in the sky or a new primary colour in the spectrum..."

So then, what do we achieve in saying that our way is better than another when it comes to decisions that our friends make? If we see that what they are doing is sinning, then we are commanded to correct then in love. But if it's a decision like that of school, which is a huge one, we are still called to be supportive even if we disagree.

It was a sad day, someone told me, in regard to public school. Yes, it is sad, that we can't support each other. Preachers' kids who were home schooled aren't going to necessarily do it themselves, and I am okay with that. I have given it to God because it's too big for me.

kid-isms

The pictures are not cooperating with me, so they are stacked for your viewing pleasure.
I don't think there is anything that could have prepared me for the mind of this 5 year old. I know that I've shared some of the zingers he's thrown at me on facebook, but he's been adding to his repertoire. That's a weird word. Anyway. The questions of a spiritual nature are especially eye-opening, convicting, and make this mama's heart sing with praise. (I swear Jack knows I'm a p.k., or something, and therefore I KNOW the answers to these eschatological inquiries).
In the car a few weeks ago: ALWAYS IN THE CAR. I can't multitask like that, son. Sheesh.

"Mom, the fact that Jesus was dead, and then came back to life was a miracle." (Not asked. Just stated very matter-of-factly).

Me: "Jack, you CAN'T do things like that because you could die! Do you understand?!"
With tears streaming down his sweet face, "But I want to see what God looks like!!"

And you can't pull anything cartoon-like off on this one, either. During one of the many viewings of VeggieTales' rendition of Moses and the Israelites' leaving Egypt, aptly title "Mo and the Big Exit," well, let's just say that the plagues inflicted upon the inhabitants of Dodgeball City were more Western. (Yes, that was a horribly contructed run-on sentence). One of these afore-mentioned plagues was a tornado that ripped through the town rather quickly, for the sake of fitting all 10 into the little annoying song. It really looked more like a sand storm in the shape of a funnel cloud.
Picture it: "Mom, that CAN"T be a tornado because the sky isn't even green." And don't even get me started on my dinosaur related lectures.


My sweet Will. Where do I start? His newest thing is to tell us that things are on his list.
Me: "Okay, let's get ready to go to the pool."
Will: "Is it the one with the bucket?"
Me: "Yes."
Will: "Oh, good. That one's on my list."
His favorite picture to draw right now is of "tormados," which is so appropriate to Will's nature. He's our little whirling dirvish, but with the most sensitive, and sweet little heart. I tell him often that he has to stay 3. He's a constant exhausting joy. He has been to the ER more in the past 2 years than Jack has ever been, he eats roach tablets, and has snuck sips of Motrin that I have left out on the counter. Yes, they know us at the ER and poison control. God has been good to us in preserving our sweet little man. May He continue to see that as a good thing.

And little Emma. Our resident pepper pot. Just when I thought Will was my most active, into EVERYTHING baby, God gave us Emma. She is a little ray of overactive sunshine, and knows what she wants. She started saying Jack's name last week at my parents' house. It sounds something like "Yak," and then I ask her to say Will's name. She looks at me like, "Make me." I'm still fascinated by little girls' being pre-programmed at little sassy pants. God is amazing. Life is amazing.
These 3 will be grown and gone before I turn around, and I know that for a fact because Jack starts kindergarten next month. Where have these 5 years gone? How can I not savor every minute of them?
Happy Friday. Hug those kids, y'all.

The Emperor has no Clothes

There are a few things that I'm pretty good at. I can juggle laundry, feeding Emma, and talking on the phone all over the noise of our morning dose of cartoons. Oh, yes. I can compete with the best of 'em in that arena. And I do enjoy a clean toilet. Yes, especially after Will squeezed half a tube of his toothpaste ONTO the rim. I think it took 4 times to get it all off before cleaning it. Will we ever be able to leave this child alone for any length of time?
And then there are the things that I'm good at that I am not proud of.

When Rich and I are in the midst of a "lively" disagreement, and I can let them fly, I am truly ashamed. My heart is heavy right now, and the sad, sappy song playing on "Toy Story 2" right now isn't helping. I don't think I can handle the third one; I don't want to do all that crying, and I KNOW I will.
Anyway, I stink at parenting too. Why do I yell over the dumbest things? Why am I not more PATIENT?

When Rich and I first moved to Spring, we found a different church home, we didn't know anyone, Rich was starting his new job, and I was pregnant with Jack. Yeah...
Remember the Star Trek transporter thingy that we got to chuckle at often? And how after the famous,"Beam me up,Scottie," we got to see the glittery water that was posing as Enterpriser DNA, and what have you? That was a little bit how my life felt; just without the glitter. I don't remember any glitter. I was attending a church Bible study that our associate pastor's wife led, and I rememeber vividly her saying that we wouldn't need to pray for patience if we already possessed it. A simple enough concept, but it was like I was hearing it for the first time.
Apparently I can be pretty transparent too. We're broken people, right? We can agree on that. And I have some pretty wonderful friends who let me see their vulnerability, and it is freeing to me. I've never been around more transparent friends before, and it's amazing. I walk into church every week and say to myself, "Everyone in here has it together BUT ME." No, no. We just like to lie and say that everything's fine. I do that to Rich too. He knows when something's not adding up, and he is always reminding me that my brokenness is acknowledging my complete lack of ability to do anything good apart from Jesus.
So,to those who have asked, I am okay. I'm broken, tired, vocal, praying, being sanctified, and sinning, until He returns. Just like you, my sweet friends. Just like you.
I leave you with these words that we sing in our church. It's an oldie called "Pensive, Doubting, Fearful." And it's written by John Newton. Now, there's a story for you.

"Pensive, doubting, fearful heart, hear what Christ, the Savior, says.
Every word shall joy impart. Change thy mourning into praise.
Yes, He speaks, and speaks to thee. May He help thee to believe.
Then thou presently will see, thou hast little cause to grieve."
And that's just the first verse...

Amazing Grace, in spite of me

"...As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while in my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me. And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, he gives, along with the command, the love itself." ~ Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place

I cannot stop reading this passage from The Hiding Place. I reread it and I feel the lump begin to form in my throat. If you have not read this book I strongly urge you to do so, tomorrow. I have read this book multiple times, and each time it blesses me and opens my eyes to something new about God's ability, no, more than that, His desire to be with the ten Booms in this place that was too close to hell. The stories of His grace are endless in these pages, and I marvel and weep at them, but his grace is endless in my life too. Do I love my family like Corrie was able to love this former S. S. guard? She LOVED him, y'all. One of the many working parts of Hitler's evil death machine, and she was able to love him. Her father and sister never left the death camps in their earthly bodies. God took them from that place, and Corrie stayed, and God used her there, for His kingdom. Would I have prayed for death to take me? More than likely.
My life is made up, largely, of pride. "Well, at least I don't do that..." Right. Yelling at my child instead of disciplining him immediately is okay. "Well, it gets his attention; besides, he's not as badly behaved as..." Holy guacamole. Seriously?
"I have x,y, and z, so that makes me more complete than..." Wanna bet?
I was able to sit down this morning and read my Bible for the first time in about a week. I MADE time for the first time in about a week. Prideful AND full of sin. And what was the passage du jour? It was in II Samuel; the story of Amnon basically raping his sister Tamar, and then Amnon's death at the hand of their brother Absalom. Better that a cup of joe, right? I actually spent a lot of time this morning contemplating this story, and why I read it today. I don't believe that what I read in the Scriptures is ever coincidence. I don't. I came to the conclusion that life is messy and ugly because of sin. Our world in its current state of fallenness is not how God intended it to be. Afterall, in Genesis He finished creating and called it very good. Not just good, but very good. You've got it all in this story from II Samuel: lust, discontent (Amnon wasn't even eating because he wanted to "know" his sister), incest, rape, hatred(he banished her from his house after he took advantage of her), and then murder. And a lot of pride. Light bulb ON.
Out of one side of my mouth I say how much I love my children, and then lickety-split I chew one of them out for asking me where rain comes from at just the wrong time.
I did the music yesterday for a funeral at my church. This wasn't a family who attends our church, but they asked to have the funeral there. They sang the standard "Amazing Grace," and I was struck, as if for the first time, by the words to the last verse:
"When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise,
Than when we first begun."
I'm not very good at this life. None of us is, thanks to sin. But look at the reward, the prize; the prideless, sinless life that can be ours if we just believe that Jesus, died (for us), rose, and will come again.
He died for ME. Have a blessed week, my friends.

Of Mandates and Men

Hi, I'm Elizabeth, and I'm a blog stalker. I know. Dang it. But, man, do I feel better now that I've confessed to those whom it concerns. You know, those invisible, faceless, unknown to me moms who don't know anything about my blog either. It's the conscience, people. There are loose connections to these bloggers: friends of friends of, well, you get the idea. I come across a lot of delightful ladies. Moms doing the same thing as I am, but some are homeschooling their kiddos, some are the completely organic, non paper plate types. Seriously. And then there are some that talk about adoption and birth control. I come away from these blogs with a lot to think about, personally. And there are times that I bring these things to my husband; like last night. Let me preface, please, by saying that I think adoption is a truly wonderful thing. I find it an amazing ministry to a child who is otherwise parentless. I do, however, believe that it takes a special family to work in this way. Am I using that as a crutch? "Whew! Guess I'm off the hook!" Not at all. Rich and I just feel like our plate is plenty full right now. Right now. Who knows what the future holds? We all have our own views on birth control, and the Bible doesn't have anything to say about this topic. We are told to be fruitful and multiply; to fill the earth and subdue it. And for the Duggars that means 19, and counting. And for the Saadehs that means 3. When we over-share our views it tends to take on a preachy, my-way-or-the-highway tone, and I am trying to avoid that daily. Welcome to my struggle numero uno. Just because I don't think my boys should drink lighter fluid and Rich does, why is my way right? Totally kidding. But Jack did spray Will with Formula 409 once, without asking first. The nerve.
We all have beautiful minds that think in different ways, but the Gospel, as my husband reminds me, is everywhere. He gave me the example: "Say you're talking with a friend about Jack's wonderful teacher and she asks you 'What about his Bible class?' 'How can his education be complete without Bible class?'" Jesus and His Gospel are everywhere. And his Bible class is at home, just like this ficticious friends' would be.
I knew a family back in LA who would cut the tags out of their clothes when they bought them because it was too "wordly." So, let me get this straight. It's okay for your clothes to come from Gap and not Goodwill, but you have to remove the tag? I guess the reminder in the form of the shirt is okay? Where is the Gospel?
We so easily get caught up in out-doing each other that we lose sight of the fact that we are chasing the same prize. Jesus is making all things new.
Am I any less "righteous" since I don't homeschool my children and we don't eat organically? No. I love my children, but I love time away from my children as well. I also love me some artificial sweetner in the form of Diet Coke. Besides, I think that Rich might die BECAUSE of eating all organic. The boy doesn't think a whole lot of it. His opinion, and he ain't gonna force it on anyone.
He has cautioned me against reading some of these blogs because I come away from them feeling like a big, fat, crappy failure as a person. Jack thinks I'm fat, so that's taken care of. I labored 14 hours for that little pipsqueak... and I love him.
These are the exception and not the rule. The Gospel is for all of us. Jesus came to cover our sin and failure with His blood. And if I think about that, these mandates suddenly seem to fade...

As if...

Lots o' stuff is swirling through my brain right now, having to do with life and junk. The dog days of Summer have arrived, guns blazing, and since we're still waiting on our swingset tower/sand box to arrive from where did you say?, we're pretty much hanging out inside with our legos, dinos, and our Veggie Tales.
It's June. Yes, I know you're aware of that, but the month of June has always been a bit of a roller coaster ride for me. Well, since that June 2004 when I found out I was preggo with Jack. I then found out I was pregnant with Will in June of 2006, and was BLINDSIDED with the news of Emma's impending arrival in June 2008. I know what you're thinking; Rich and I must be stuu-pid. My doctor finally teased me about all this when Emma was in the oven. Seriously, y'all. What are the odds, I mean, really, of having 3 kiddos born in a span of 4 years, whose birthdays are all 2 weeks apart, and one of those birthdays falling on MINE? Okay, maybe it's not that monumental, but it's still crazy. And I personally thank my mom for Jack's week late arrival being smack on my birthday. "Oh, I PRAYED he would come on your birthday!" she blubbered to me on the phone after his birth. (Love you, Mom). Ppfffttt. I'll say this; he's finally old enough to know that his birthday is also Mommy's, and that it was hers looonnng before it was his. Honestly, he's pretty sweet about it, and it is kind of fun to share a cake with him. (I always have veto power, too).
That brings me to my point in all this. This marks the first even-numbered-ending June since 2004 that I am not with child. And it's weird. I almost don't know what to do with myself because I'm not the heat lamp for my little embryo that will bake for what seems like eternity, and then wind up in my arms as that little sweet bundle. In a weird way I look forward to that part because I associate that time in the hospital with feeling safe. Granted, the mother's body kicks into auto pilot (which always causes me to dwell on what an amazing God ours is). You mean, my body knows how to do this? And yet it hurts like HELL?? Okay. Drugs cocktail, please?
I enjoy that time of getting to know my babies before bringing them home to the real world. I do. I really do. And I know there are many moms who can relate. Mommies of the backless gown unite! And after Emma, oh, was it rough. I was a walking zombie. Heck, I also had a not quite 4 year old, and a just turned 2 year old. And Rich started a new job within ExxonMobil which caused him to work 14+ hour days in July and part of August. ((Shudder)).
So, what do I do with myself now? I know that I'm ready for the next phase in this part of life; kicking the diaper habit to name one. I would like to drop these 10 pounds of baby weight that still plague me. Afterall, we're not all Heidi Klum, who has had, what 4? 5 kids?, and says that she doesn't work out. Riiiiight. Why do these beautiful people lie to us? Where do they get off? Working out has become a pretty regular part of my daily routine, of which I am proud. There are days, that, when Rich gets home, I lob him with EmmasbeenbathedeveryonehaseatenIllbebackinanhourorsobye!!!!! I look forward to that time alone when I can pump a little iron, and then work out to the tune of around 500 calories, while watching some tv uninterrupted. Yes, there are days when that alone is my drive to get out the door. I can watch The Middle, ALONE? I'm in! Sweaty nastiness and all!!
I need to find my place in this world right now. In this transition from all babies all the time, to the slightly more independent time. I'm working on it, but I don't have anything profound to end this with, because I hate when people are all fake and happy happy, joy joy. And I'm not gonna be that way this time. I just needed a computer screen to talk to,so thanks for reading.

Life is Messy...

But then I come across pictures like this that make my heart melt. What a blur this stage of my life has been: three babies in four years, my "baby" baby is almost 15 months old, and my oldest baby is soon to be heading off to kindergarten.
Emma has been sick since last Friday, and it's amazing to me how easily we take our health for granted. Our children sleep well (usually) when they are in good health, whining is easily (usually) dealt with. "If you don't stop NOW..."
So when the rash appeared on sweet girl's face I rescheduled the appointment with the doctor. I suspected roseola, but I wanted to know why we had gotten so little sleep the night before. Ears are always a possibility. Coming down the ski lift in from the mountain tops overlooking Santa Fe, the rides on the airplanes.
It's a wonder that we as adults don't use that one. "Why were you late?" "Sorry, it was my ears."
"Do you know how fast you were speeding?" "No, officer, but I blame it on my ears." Maybe that's not such a good idea, afterall.
Back to my previous topic. Now I know why it takes me so long to unpack after a trip; easily distracted.
So, in the van headed up to The Woodlands to see our peditrician, I was moody, sleep deprived, and (insert shame here) frustrated with my daughter for inconveniencing me. I rescheduled my haircut for this, child. Rich and I had had an argument the night before that should have been anything but. I was generally feeling turned upside down. We were listening to our Indelible Grace CD, as we often do. Yes, it's a shameless plug. And if you don't own one, or aren't fortunate enough to be able to sing some of these timeless hymns set to new music, then get yourself one.
Jack requested "His Love can Never Fail," which gets me every time; whether we're in the car or singing it in church.
The chorus goes: His love can never fail,
His love can never fail.
My soul is SATISFIED,
To know His love can never fail.

Emphasis mine. We get to the chorus in the song and my boys start singing at the tops of their little lungs. Now Jack, like his daddy, can't carry a tune in a bucket. Love you, Rich. What he does is the equivalent of Rex Harrison's speaking on pitch in order to save his dignity. Hey, when you're the leading man playing opposite Audrey Hepburn...
But speaking on pitch is a little too generous when describing what Jack does, but he's making a joyful noise to his Creator. This little boys knows. He's told me that he loves Jesus and knows that He died for him. Thank You, God, for using my inadequacy and constant failings as a parent to grab hold of my son.
A smile came to my face because life is messy, but God gives us grace each and every day. He was stricken, beaten, and killed, so that this wretched, filthy, sinful, messy person could live forever. This is part of our forever; this life is part 1, if you will. I need to grasp each day what that means. I have a wonderful life, my soul is sealed, and my baby girl slept a little better last night because that darn molar is beginning to break through.

That All the World May Know

This morning at about 8:45 the phone rang. And in the midst of the Disney Channel blaring, the constant dialogue that is kids (during cartoons, people)! Why do we even watch them? I ask. And being elbow deep in breakfast dishes and soapy water, I decided to let my answering machine take a message. I don't know what I would do without that thing. Thank you, technology, for helping this scatter-brained mom of 3 when I'm too busy juggling all that that entails. It was a fellow preschool mom asking if I would be interested in car pooling to our field trip. I was flattered that this woman with whom I am only minimally acquainted would ask me.
I enjoyed getting to visit with her a little more about this and that. Kids make great conversations pieces, people. And then on the way home the conversation turned from "religious" education to church. I know a good deal about Mormonism from books written by people who left and became Christians, and from Bible studies that my dad has taught. Yes, it's only the tip of the iceberg. My brain can't possibly retain that much information. Those Mormons have been quite busy with lots of, um, missions of various kinds.
I told her that we are members of a PCA (Presbyterian Church in America) church; and then she asked THE question. "I'm not really sure what the PCA is all about," said she. Oh, boy. I explained that I was raised in a PCA home; my dad is a pastor, etc., etc. But I knew that I wanted to move past religion in the 3 minutes that I had before getting to her house. (No pressure, Elizabeth). I decided to touch on 2 of the 5 points of Calvinism: predestination and irresistible grace. And of course, it's only after the fact, that I can come up with the phrase "once saved, always saved," when describing irresistible grace. When I was explaining predestination to this friend, I told her how we believe that we are chosen before the beginning of time... She interrupted me and added, "To do our work on earth well." Or something to that effect. I told her that we are to do that, but that we are chosen before the beginning of time by God, to be His. *Blank stare.* I wanted so much more time with her to be able to tell her why belonging to Jesus is actually so freeing because, "It is by grace that you have been saved, through faith, and this not of yourselves. It is the gift of God; not by works, lest any man should boast. " Ephesians 2:8-9
I want her eyes to be opened to that freedom. To know that our good works are the result, the fruit, of having a personal relationship with God. With intimately knowing Jesus.
And it humbles me to know that God chose me to be His for no other reason than because He is good. He extended that mercy to me, and someday all the world WILL know.

Sabbatical

No, not I. Though I wish it were. Hey, Mom, wanna take 'em, for say 5 months? I'll start in Monaco and work my way West. On second thought, maybe I'll just stay in Monaco. It's fresh on my mind after seeing Ironman 2. It must be one of the most beautiful places ever. But it really doesn't take much when you live in a place like Houston. And even worse than that is Summer in Houston. Rich has started his yearly groaning already. I know, I know, but the alternative, I tell him, is frigid cold for 6 months. My blood is thin, and I will NOT shovel snow. It appears we have a dilemma, don't we?
Our church, Grace Pres., The Woodlands, is trying to send our pastor on a 5 month sabbatical. I was drawn to being a part of the "sabbatical team," aka "the A team," because David's and my dad's pastoral histories are pretty similar. David and his family came to The Woodlands 14 years ago to being their ministry, and my dad did the same over 30 years ago in the Big Easy. Neither man has technically had a vacation in that many years, respectively. It's one thing to appreciate what your pastor does on a weekly basis, but it is another one entirely to SEE what he does on a weekly basis. The church, no matter how smoothly the body works together, is essentially, another member of his family. He eats, sleeps, lives for his church. A man of God who listens to and accepts the call, says yes to a life of much sacrifice. Much, much sacrifice.
I am encouraged by that fact that David has expressed to us what he would like to do on this extended vacation, and we know that one way or another, grant or no grant, we will send him, while praying for renewal, and peace to brim over. I have hope too, that one day my dad will be in a position to be able to get away for an extended period. While we are glad that my parents' vacation is coming to visit for Memorial Day weekend, it's hardly a vacation. God continues to be faithful to both of these men, and I will continue to lift them up in times of much rest and in the busy times. We take our pastors for granted more often than we should. Their labor for the Kingdom is,well,laborious, but God is pleased and continues to rain down blessings.
I look forward to seeing how we as a congregation will grow while David is away, and when he does return, we will welcome him joyfully.

Being Still

For anyone who knows me well, you know that being still and I don't really get along. Mark Moore, who is currently teaching a Sunday school class at our church asked a question last week that made me squirm a little. The class is titled "Christianity and the Arts." Rich was gung-ho; I was hesitant. I'm not "culchad" like that. He loved his art appreciation classes in college. How well I remember quizzing him from those flash cards. And our trip to Washington DC that summer included a visit to the Museum of Fine Art. *Yawn.*
"Elizabeth, isn't this print of the Mona Lisa amazing? Look at the shadows, the elegang brush strokes."
Me: "Dude, it's a PRINT. This isn't even the real one." I do remember enough from my own art appreciate class to know that the real mccoy is in The Louvre in gay Paris.
Give me the symphony any day of the week, but pu-leeeease do not ask me to look at fine art with you. For me, it's like opera. Make it stop!!
Anyway, the first week of the class was a pleasant surprise. There were a lot of fun questions asked, and hey, it's Dr. Mark teaching it. 'Nuff said. The question that was the zinger for me dealt with boredom and feeling guilty for being bored. There's a phone commercial, I think, whose catch phrase is "communication at the speed of life." We move so quickly that oftentimes we don't know what to do with downtime. I certainly don't. I'm constantly moving, whether it's cooking, cleaning, laundry, and don't even get me started on things that relate directly to Things 1-3. It drives Rich crazy at times.
So yesterday was one of those really bad days. Thing 3 only takes one nap a day. ONE. And she has for as long as I can remember; and she takes it in the morning. Yeah. So, in the afternoon I let my mind again wander to the working world. I'm restless here at home. Yes, this is what I wanted (granted, what I wanted before I knew what it was all about). Funny how that happens... I tried to come up with ways to make it work. "The 2 younger kids could go to daycare of some kind, Jack will be in kindergarten, and I could be out in the working world again." And that's just the job part. How do you juggle all of that plus things like dinner, laundry, and clean bathrooms?
But what is best for my kids? I think there needs to be, for me, a certain level of dying unto self. There needs to be a major attitude adjustment here with me. I need to learn how to stay home more with my children instead of going all the time. Heck, I pick my boys up from preschool and Jack almost always asks me, "Did you run ALL your errands? Are we going home?"
This is my job. Yes, it's difficult, it's never ending, and one day I will have time on my hands. I might even be bored from time to time, and I will probably miss this stage of my life very, very much.
"Create in me a clean heart, O God. And renew a right spirit within me." Psalm 51:10

All Things Bright and Beautiful

"All things bright and beautiful. All creatures great and small. All things wise and wonderful. The Lord God made them all." ~ Cecil Alexander
Having children has caused me, on many occasions, to ponder how great God is in relation to my smallness. I get to that day where it's been DAYS since I've had an "official" quiet time with my Father who made me, and I am feeling like things are just rote. We get up, many times to a screaming baby, we get breakfast on the table,"(but I want PRETTY cheerios),!" kiss the hubby good bye, get kids dressed, off to preschool, off to the store... You get the idea. And that is when it happens. That is when God reminds me that He still loves me, and that He hasn't forsaken me. We're almost always in the car when Jack asks those really thought provoking questions.
"Mom, when we die, we go to live with Jesus, right?"
"Yes, Jack. We do."
"Why?"
"Because Jesus loved us enough to die for us, and we belong to Him."
I inevitably have to fight that lump that forms in my throat as a result of questions like this from a 5 year old who has a sense of what being a part of this amazing thing called life is all about. And the fact that he wants to know the God who created it all, and saw it as good.
Creation is amazing. The clouds outside my window right now are breathtaking. And why do I notice them? Because God gave me children who give me cause to stop and ponder all that is around me. To see it through the eyes of these amazing little people that I get to call mine. And it is indeed good.

Rules, Rules, Rules

Take two. I'm going to try and punch dance this out before my friend, Laurel gets here, bearing cookies, house plants that won't survive the move to Germany, and her sweet children. That punch dance reference is from the movie "Hot Rod." And for those of you who haven't seen it, I say to you, "Lucky!"
This past Sunday my pastor used an example in his sermon that dealt with rules that we in society create to advance our ideas or agendas. The scripture was the woman at the well, whom Jesus asked for a drink from her water pot. He crossed many socially erected barriers to show love to her, and to tell her about the living water that would be her only true satisfaction.
My pastor's example dealt with swimsuit criteria at a youth summer conference that his children attended years ago. The criteria was meant to be an equalizer, of sorts, but his point was that it could do a lot of harm to the unchurched; his children's friends, in this instance.
Rich and I had an interesting discussion in the afternoon about it because I felt a little differently from my pastor about this issue. And my wise, loving hubby told me that I was wanting to enforce my idea as a better standard. Touche. Which one is better? Does it even really matter?
Which leads me to the issue of schooling. I posted an article last week that I read about the Duggars and Vision Forum. I'm not going to get into either; I will just say that each subject rubs me the wrong way. Or to quote my favorite line from "Open Range," when Robert Duvall says, "That really sticks in my craw."
Rich and I then began talking about the reasons friends present and past choose to home school their children vs. sending them to school. What are the reasons that mean so much that we feel compelled to keep our children at home? What makes us want to send our children to school? Does it matter? Another friend from years ago, who is now in the fight of her life with breast cancer, wrote me the other day about this, privately. She does homeschool her triplet daughters, but her point about schooling was nothing short of refreshing. "Are you redeemed?" she asked. "Good. God will take care of the rest." I've had a lot of reservations lately about public school for my children. Not because of the district. We wouldn't have Jack going to public school for Kindergarten in the fall if the district were subpar. Education is too important to Rich and me for it to just be "okay." We had to go to schools that were just okay, and it's laaaame. Is it thinking ahead to things like evolution and sex education? No. His foundation, and that of our other children, both now, and when those subjects come up years from now, will be shaped at home. They will all be sent out into the world knowing, and I pray knowing personally, that they belong to Jesus.
I have decided to shake myself free from the bondage of former friends who said that homeschooling, and nothing else, was the right way to educate. Rules that they wove together, with some help from things like Vision Forum, Scripture, and a lot of personal opinion. Great. Home schooling is right FOR YOU. Not for me. And there are no "rules" that say otherwise.

Contentment

We haven't had rain for close to a month it seems. We had been praying for rain because my newly planted flowers were looking a little parched. And the hubby has just recently laid some new sod. Sooo, maybe no rain was punishment of sorts for having shelled out over $500 for grass? Just sayin'...
Then last night the heavens opened and dumped their month long accumulation of rain, and it continued all day today. ALL DAY. By early afternoon the loony house was running on all cylinders. Rich remembered that "Robin Hood" cam out this weekend, and we were bemoaning the fact that we couldn't pick up and just go to a movie and dinner afterwards. Why did we rush those days? The planning now is exhausting. And don't even get me started on what is required when we double date with friends.
As I began to wallow in self pity, and turn on the dancing veggies for my boys, Emma woke up from her nap. And that was about the last straw for me. Why can't we ever catch a break?! And then it happened. Rich was sitting at our kids' little table working away on his laptop and baby girl toddled over to him. He scooped her up, and after just sitting ever so contentedly for a few, she looked up at him with those big beautiful eyes. Who can resist? He showered her with kisses, and she giggled accordingly. I didn't dare get up to grab the camera because I didn't want to miss any of this. God's way of reminding me of what I do have is enough to bring me to tears. How can I not rejoice in what my rainy, kid-filled, loud and chaotic afternoons are? My children are healthy, beautiful, and have been given to me for such a short time. Thank You, God, for loaning them to me.
I'll have plenty of time to enjoy PF Chang's and a movie with my husband, but I know, I just know, that someday I will actually find myself saying that I miss hearing Veggie Tales, the countless questions from a 5 year old who wants to know this world and its Creator. And I will miss that sweet little girl coming up to me for a kiss and a hug.
Yes. This is contentment.

To go or not to go?

This June is my 11 year high school reunion. Don't ask. We graduates of such a fine institution as Ridgewood Preparatory School do things a wee bit differently. Honestly, I've been told, our class reunion is being combined with the class of 2000 in hopes that more alumni will attend. I'm down with that. Not that anyone asked for my 2 cents, but ours was a small Metry school. That's Metairie for you non-natives.
So, last week the invite came in the mail asking me to be a part of the walk down memory lane this coming June 5th at some joint in downtown N'awlins. And again, this is my blog, where I will only occasionally unload what's really on my mind. I know; I NEVER do that on facebook, do I? And I also know that there are many fellow RPS grads with whom I am friends on facebook, and they probably don't even know it. But if you are aware, I am about to dump on some things about high school. So, there. You've been warned.
High school is somewhat challenging for the less popular crowd. I was mainly there because I knew it would take 4 years to get out of that hole, but I did manage to make a few friends along the way. I can remember vividly every year on my birthday being called to the office by Ms. Saunders. I wonder if she's still there like MJ is? And there waiting for me would be flowers and a cookie cake, courtesy of my wonderful parents. They always picked up the slack for their shy, not very popular daughter, and made me feel like a million bucks. I love them. And I love them for loving me for who I was and am.They really are the best, and no, you can't have them. And then it would begin. I would open that box of sugary goodness after lunch to share with my group of friends who ate under the shade of that courtyard tree daily, only to be repeatedly harrassed by classmates who never gave me the time of day otherwise. Humor me. "Elizzzzzabeth! Can I have a piece, pleeeeeaaaase?" Oh, how you bug me. But I'm too nice to tell you no because I want DESPERATELY to be accepted by the cool crowd. Why I ever thought that the girls who ate lunch with the stupid football players were cool, I'll never know. And I'm also now brave enough to tell you that I HATE cheerleaders. I didn't hate all of them. Just most of them. They looked down on me. I always thought I had something on my face when I was around their laser eyes. Anyway...
One of my kiddos' preschool teachers told me that I should totally go to my reunion because all the kids who were flakes in high school will still be flakes, and it would be amusing for me. While I agree that it would be amusing, I fear that I would tell these particular Plastics off. In front of other people.
Having children has changed many things about me. But one of the most significant changes has been to my crap filter, as I call it. If I am given unsolicited advice by strangers concerning my children, it doesn't end well for them. "Yes, she's screaming. And unless you're going to take her home and work your magic, BACK OFF."
So, all this to say, that I will not be attending my 11 year high school reunion. I've got more fun things to do with my life now. And here they are. Well, they're actually at the top of this post. And they are the world to me. Who needs to go be all fake with people who only spoke to you when it involved dessert on your birthday?

We've entered the world of blogging!

As we enter the second summer of business planning at ExxonMobil, what better time is there to begin blogging? Okay, it's not me, it's Rich. But the kiddos and I will be the ones who will get to spend more time together than we care to dwell on.
A shout out to Debra Lewis for giving me the idea to be more productive, shall we say? with my daily rants about my children. So, here goes. It's been a good long while since I wrote anything for a grade or a critique. That picture there is my high school newspaper from days of yore. I was a writer for the Golden Eagle when I took that Speech class. That there cover story was written by yours truly about the lead in the play that our Speech class presented to the rest of the school. It was "Up the Down Staircase," in which I was cast in the lead role. So I got to write a story about myself (and my supporting cast) by myself, in the third person. Strange, I know. Ah, the benefits of attending a really small school. I'm hoping that Katy Adams can forgive me for being given the lead in that play thanks to a fluke or two. I see, thanks to Facebook, that she works for the Washington DC Fox News affiliate. Way to chase a dream!
I don't get to use as many words during my day as I would like. Just ask my husband abou trying to read the newspaper on a Saturday morning. I'm pretty sure he only gets to use half his brain power for that, thanks to me. So this is going to be where I empty my verbage,and my daily struggles with Thing 1, Thing 2, and Thing 3. For the record, I'm not worried about the privacy thing a whole lot; it's just that I look forward to our next trip to Disney World because I am going to hunt down those Seussian shirts and pay waaaaay too much for them. But you'll get to humor me with switching back and forth between my kids' names, and their nicknames depending on the mood of the day. And let me tell ya, we can go lickety split from an "Oklahoma!"-esque "Oh,What a Beautiful Mornin," to the Siamese version of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" in "The King and I," (Run, Eliza, Run)!
I guess the bottom line is that I enjoy reading blogs so much that I thought I'd take a whack at it. Let's share our struggles as parents together. And as a friend of mine so encouragingly put it, we're all bad parents, but there is grace.
Soli Deo Gloria