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.