Full Circle

And the results are in!! kindof.

2012-01-07T23:40:00.001-08:00

This post isn't mushy, introspective or flowery. It's raw data.

Starting January 1st of last year I began collecting my receipts. I didn't have a fancy tracking method or even an organized one at that. I just saved my receipts by putting them in a box on the floor, tucked away behind my desk. Gas receipts, food bills, Chuck E. Cheese, office/school supplies, etc. There were a few I didn't get, like the ones from my husband's spending (which is minimal) or from the occasional gas pump. But every. other. receipt... I kept.

December 31st I tabbed up these receipts which was the highlight of my New Year's Eve festivities. I was so happy to finally get rid of the box that was now overflowing and spilling it's contents onto my floor, until I started taking a good hard look at the preliminary numbers. My McDonald's spending alone was more than what I spent at Costco. How gross.

I divided the receipts into different categories; and it was then that I realized I should have perhaps *been* more organized about it, but oh well, too late now. There was no scientific rules or measures I had taken, I just kinda lumped them together into these groups.

Now before I share these results, I have to say a couple of things.

The reason I kept these receipts was because I wanted to see where our money is going month in and month out. So many times during these 12 months I wanted to say forget it and get rid of all of these loose papers. But I didn't. I had played fast and loose with our finances years ago and wrangled them in, so I wanted to take it a step further and hold myself accountable.
I didn't change my spending habits just because I wanted to tabulate everything at the end of the year. I spent as I normally would as to not skew the results.I just shoved the receipts in the box when I got home.
I'm posting this so other people can see how quickly things add up. I was aware that I made a lot of *pit stops* but to the degree of which the totals speak of... is appalling. I bet those reading this spend just as foolishly as I have, if their honest with themselves.
As many people know, I am an extreme couponer, so to say that I am frugal is an understatement. So these figures are actually pretty conservative.
This explains where the extra 30 pounds I've gained came from. lol.
The categories are:
Grocery (stores such as Safeway, Food4Less, Savemart, BevMo, the local fruit stand, etc), Gas, Costco, McDonald's, General Dining Out (including every other fast food joints like Starbucks and *real* restaurants), General Stores (including Target, Pier 1, Vans, Aaron Brothers, Pet Smart, Kohl's, JC Penny, Amazon, eBay, Staples, Home Depot, etc) and CVS/Walgreen's/Riteaid. The purchases from general stores such as Target would typically include grocery items, but there was no way I was gonna break down every receipt to separate the food from other items, so that's why it is the way it is.
These totals include gift/holiday spending as well. But they do not include any totals for items I purchased on a gift card, EXCEPT for Starbucks. Lots of things I got for *free* using my mad skills as a couponer so those item totals weren't tabbed up.
I used easily approximately $1,000 in gift cards (from promotions, my husband's incentive/bonuses from work, etc) to purchase even more stuff that wasn't included in these figures. My Starbucks giftcards totaled about $230.
Yes, McDonald has it's own category. I would go there almost (at least) once a day to get a large Coke. Or frappe. Or both. We also would go there during the summer almost daily for ice cream cones for the boys, or on the weekends while being about the town.
And lastly.. don't judge me unless you're willing to collect your own receipts for a year and do the same!

So without further ado...my totals. Loosely tabulated, but close enough to make me change my ways.

$4,626.70 for General Stores
$2,430.22 for General Dining Out
$1,704.70 in Gasoline
$1,684.77 for CVS/RiteAid/Walgreen's
$1,399.93 at McDonald's!
$855.27 for Grocery
$758.28 for Costco

if you are good enough at math to do a fast tab.. you'll notice that the total for McD's and all other dining out places total $3,830.15. oh barf.

A High Calling

2011-12-16T10:41:00.000-08:00

Lately I've noticed I have a bunch.. and I mean a BUNCH... of friends that are adopting children. Some are from overseas, some are from local orphanages, some are with disabilities, some with developmental issues. Some have loving families behind them, some have been willfully neglected. I sit back and watch. and listen. and learn from my friends. I ask questions, I linger over their pictures. I imagine my family taking on another child, one that did not come from our bodies, but a stranger, and I don't know if I could do it. I know Biblically, we are called to care for orphans. These poor children who are left mother and fatherless. A generation with no one to love them with a pure heart. An innocent child that can not defend, let alone provide for itself and who is at the mercy... literally... of kindness from strangers. As I snuggle my little guy in the mornings, or pack lunches for my boys, or pray with my daughter..it strikes me that these orphans have no one to do that for them.

I then feel like something must be wrong with me to not have the desire to have more children under my roof. But I don't. Not now. But I've also learned enough to never say never, because well.. God has a wonderful sense of humor. So for now, I say that the route of adoption is not for us. I know that if it were to be an avenue God wanted my husband and I to pursue, He would give us that burning desire and open the gates of blessing to make it happen. I'm content in keeping my heart, hearth and home fires burning for the children I already have and for their father.

But still, I admire and I wonder. I see the unique equipping that not only the family as a unit has to care for these orphans, but the individual giftings of the mothers-and-fathers-to-be have been given. It takes a special kind of somethin' to be chosen to walk that road; and I marvel deep inside when I see families unite and grow together. Not separating the root from the branches. And I think of how that's exactly the love of God is, shining thru to us as we are His adopted sons and daughters.

And again, I wonder what's wrong with me? Why haven't I been chosen? I wanna be like those people. I want to please God and receive the blessings and the joy that they have coming to them because of their selfless act of simply loving another person. >>stomping my feet<<. Nah, nah, nah. Could my whine get any louder?

And then yesterday a friend of mine had written that he feels that the most of his ministry is 'being present in people's lives', to which a friend of his replied 'exactly....just like Jesus.'

duh.

So then, why do I feel the guilt and shame for not welcoming a child into our home? It's because I had settled on only one part of the verse. I was assuming that because we are a young family, we should *naturally* gravitate towards children. But when I really put my life into perspective, I see that God has already equipped me for service to His commandment.

"Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble,
[and] to keep oneselfunspotted from the world..." James 1:27

When I read on, I realize that there is another *group* of people mentioned in this verse. Widows.

And in a true watershed moment, in the way that God always does for me, while I was getting ready for my day, thinking about all the things I have to *DO*, my eyes were opened to the truth of His calling. I have people in my life that ARE widows and need to be cared for and loved. I usually associate the care of widows with the visiting of the elderly in convalescent homes or hospitals. And well, there are people older than me who do that already. But no. What this verse is saying and what was illuminated by my friend's statement yesterday, is that I never paid attention to the duty as a Christ follower that I have towards these people. Or for the natural bent I have to *just be* with them. I have not been intentional with my faith. I've let my haphazard way of living get in the way of making strides for the kingdom of God.

I'm not saying that I feel the need to evangelize to a rec room of people at a retirement community. I'm saying that I need to stretch out my hand in companionship to these women intentionally. Not to shy away from their phone calls. Or shrink back at their offer to come over for a visit. It is a high calling and something that will stretch me and grow me into the fullness of who He wants me to be.

There's something about looking into the eyes of a child that hold the mysteries of heaven. But there is something equally as mesmerizing as gazing into clouded eyes that hold the hope of home. Thank you, Lord, for knowing me better than I know myself and for equipping me for your good work.

But who do You say I am?

2011-04-30T22:21:00.000-07:00

Good grief. I started this post back at the end of April, and I'm just now returning to it on June 26th. Wow. How's that for procrastination? Well, if I were to be completely honest with myself, it's not only procrastination. The was a little bit of fear and embarrassment in posting this, a wee bit of reluctance and hiding too. But I figure..eh. what the heck?

Anyway, I guess I should just get right into what's been going on over the last few months, at least since January 15th, which is when I last completed a full post at one sitting. sigh.

In February, my daughter made some pretty unwise choices. This led us to having to dole out a punishment that we thought fit the crime. The deed, in and of itself, isn't something I wish to disclose, but I will say it was sever enough for my husband and I to pull the plug on her going to Germany, amongst other things. And over the fallout of the crime, the consequences just mounted higher and higher.

So after a week of being grounded, in what is now most easily described a whirlwind of events, we asked her to move out of our house. Well, it wasn't as nice as that statement lends itself to be. It was ugly, and heated and angry. And as of February 20th, she no longer lives with us. Looking back, I can see that this was a good thing overall for our family; yes, even for her. The dynamics of having a teenaged girl under our roof were becoming more and more dire. But since she is not living here and I am not apparently *annoying her* anymore, our relationship has been much better. I do miss her terribly, but I speak with her almost every day and see her almost as often as I did when she lived here. She's in a safe place, doing well and getting ready to head off to college.

And as much as I wanted to hold off in having her move away (until she actually did leave for school), the volume of angst that can be pent up in a girls heart got the better of us. The first five or so days that she was gone I was an emotional wreck. The feelings of loss that I was suffering through could only be compared to when I had lost Charlotte. In my right thinking I know that Airenne isn't dead, but I grieved and mourned over the separation of our bond like she was gone forever. I knew that her personality is such that she wouldn't ever come back home to live. To visit, yes. Perhaps even an extended visit, but not to live. This scared me. A line had been drawn.. and we ALL crossed it.

You see, the people in my family don't ever seem to move out and move on very far from the Mothership. We stay close and talk often. But the people on my husband's side of the family move up and move away, with little communication/ties back to the family. At this point, it was a crap shoot as to what our daughter would do. She has so much of my spunk and so much of her dad's adventurous spirit in her, that it wouldn't surprise us one bit if she ended up on the East Coast somewhere and only called once in a while. Because let's face it.. as much as it was us that asked her to leave.. she knew it was coming; she has craved for that freedom for a long time. And besides, she ain't knocking our door down asking to come home anytime soon. We have told her more than once that we miss her. That we are sorry for how things have transpired, and that we would welcome her home.. if she were to observe our house rules.

She has declined. Several times.

Thankfully though, the worst case scenario hasn't happened. What HAS happened is a better, more open and understanding relationship between us. But this transition hasn't been easy. on ME.

There have been so many things that've been stirred in my heart over this process. In some ways, I'm a little peeved that no one ever told me that THIS is the hard part of mothering. That you can spend (in my case) more than half of my life raising this little creature, making sacrifices for her, tending to her when she was sick, trying to create in her a servant's heart, to watch her *choose* to leave. In all seriousness, I felt like she broke up with me. With us. It was horrible. I cried for days. I would see her pictures online, or drive by her friend's house and bawl my eyes out. I know that it is a natural part of growing up. She was bound to want to create her own life sooner or later. And I WANT her to be happy. But it felt like in our little Three Musketeer group (of her, Brian and myself) that she was ditching us. I know she's not. She just becoming her own person. Searching herself out. Making her own way. But it still hurts.

I have always had the position that I am her mother, not her friend. When I was growing up, I had a relationship with my mother that was the opposite. She wanted to be friends. I didn't. I wanted a mother. I didn't want to talk about inappropriate things with my mom. Rather, I didn't want her to talk to me about those things. So I purposed early on that I wouldn't be the person my mother was to me. And it's been tough. There have been times I've had to stick to my guns when really sometimes I just wanted to ignore the things my kid was doing. Or not doing for that matter. Turns out, it is a balancing act. I drew a lot of criticism for not being her *friend* and she at times felt like I couldn't relate to her or didn't connect with me because she felt like I judged her. But now that she is a legal adult, and not living in my house, this new identity of hers is causing me to change too. And I'm working through how to do it.

A little more about me... I distinctly remember when I began maturing into a young adult. When, at about 14-15, I became aware of what the reality of my life was and how it didn't match what I thought it should be. I began to resent my mother as I had it in my head that she wasn't doing her best by me. I was very judgmental of her lifestyle and I really was disrespectful to her. We got in aweful fights, sometimes escalating to physical brawls. Then, after being the *baby* for over 15 years, I now suddenly had a brother. I spent a lot of time with him and loved him so much. Shortly after that, I gave birth to Airenne. Having her at 17 years old was challenging, to say the least. I'm not saying this in a regretful way, but in every sense of the word, I was stifled. I scraped and tugged and scratched out my....OUR... existence all with her on my hip. We had lots of people that were naysayers about our situation, so I was bent on proving them all wrong. Everything I did from that point on was on the basis of what I thought would be the *right* thing to do. I was a pretty good mom, I think. I know I could have done a lot worse than what I did. So I'm not guilting myself over anything. But now looking back, I can see where it was that I took a turn off the path I was headed on. The path of self discovery every young adult is on. The path that Airenne is on now.

I stayed in school because, given the circumstance, it was the right thing to do. I took all the *right* classes because it was bashed into my head that having a degree was the right thing to do. And although I chose my major, I was limited on what I could pursue due to my obligations at home. Because, afterall, I was working my way through school, because it was the right thing to do. . I am thankful that I continued on, and that I've accomplished what I have. But now what? All my adult life I have been Christine... Airenne's mom. But now I have to be Christine. Just Christine. I don't know if I even know who she is.

Now don't get me wrong, I know she is still my daughter, and that she will still need her mommy from time to time (...and not to mention that I have 3 little boys that I'm still a mommy to).. but the time has come for my baby to fly the coop.

So. That begs the question... "Who do you say I am?"

When Jesus asked His disciples this (in Mark 16:15), I'm sure they were a little perplexed. I mean, really? They were with Him for 3 years. He was a Rabbi, their friend, the man who had all the answers, a carpenter. They knew exactly who He was. Or did they?

Jesus wanted to know what they really thought. Of course *He* knows who He is.. and what His role on earth is, but He was interested in who THEY (and others) had perceived Him to be.

So now, it seems as though I am back on that same path of self discovery that I meandered off of long ago. Only now I have the liberty as an adult to make some choices based on what the *true* Christine wants. My experiences have shaped me, honed me, and even jaded me. But they are mine. So now as I gather them together, and look over each of them, I can decided which ones I want to keep.. and which ones are only weighing me down. I can choose to cultivate the things in which I have found to inspire me, or to let go of the things I'm holding onto for the sake of holding on. I'm revisiting the desires of my heart as a child, while moving forward with the confidence of a grown ass woman, who more than likely has been there and done that.

Walk a mile in thier shoes...

2011-01-15T23:08:00.000-08:00

So I came home from another grand shopping adventure at Target tonight and entered into a sleeping house. I was so excited to get new shoes and a couple of shirts for the kids. All the boys were nestled and my hubby is sawing logs. And as I traipsed in the front door, bags swinging gaily, I suddenly remembered that Brian would be going to the parks tomorrow to pass out goods to the Homeless.

Last year, when he went with the Men's Ministry from church, I loaded him up with a few bags of warm clothes and a couple of blankets. When he got back, he told me how quickly those things were scooped up and so he asked me to gather a few more things for this trip. I nearly forgot.

So anyway, I didn't know what else I could give, as I had just 2 weeks prior shed all of my unwanted goods at the Salvation Army. The only thing that came to mind was my *warm and puffy* jacket. I went to the garage to retrieve it to hand over to the cause. But I hesitated. I looked over the coat, noticed how great of condition it was in, how it looked nearly new, and even had a pair of matching gloves in the pocket. I hardly ever wear it, it's almost *too* puffy and hot in the Fall months, but it's one of those things that you keep around, "just in case". So I set it aside and set my sights on a bag of snow/winter things I had gathered together over the years. Whenever I would see a sale on gloves or hats, I'd buy 'em. Waste of money, really. We never go out to the snow or even like to be outdoors when it's cold, but I couldn't pass up a bargain.

"For the poor will never cease from the land;
therefore I command you, saying,
'You shall open your hand wide to your brother,
to your poor and your needy, in your land..." Deut 15:11

I hunted and pecked thru that bag and found a couple of mis-matched mittens and knit gloves at the bottom. In my heart I figured "PPfft...these Homeless people would probably be glad to get even those." There were beanies and scarves too, but I didn't want to give those away, as they were hand made and also like new. Well you know.. I wear them *so* much in this dry California weather >>insert sarcasim here<<.

Last year B told me about how there were little kids waiting patiently for him to let them look in the box of discarded clothing for something of use to them. It broke his heart. He thought about how a couple of those kids were about our boy's age and splattering around in puddles as their mom waited in line for food. wet. in the winter.

Then I noticed next to the bag were M's little shoes. Oh how I loved his little feet in those Ralph Lauren suede deck shoes! He hasn't worn them in over a year, I honestly don't know why I even still have them, but I figured I'd toss 'em into the pile of giveaways as well. But what hit me, in a split second, as I was standing in my illuminated garage, with the laundry whirling behind me in a warm dryer looking at all the excess I just bought at Target, that these people have NOTHING. I'm here holding onto a warm jacket tonight, afraid to give it up because *what if* I *might* need it someday, while I'm wearing a warm sweatshirt and going to go to sleep in a warm house, and there is someone else out there that is cold.

So then, what on Earth made me think it was ok just to give my scraps? To hand over my unwanted/mismatched things as if I am giving my all and doing some big favor to humanity? I am (obviously) well fed, I am warm, I have more than one blanket on my bed, and I have *enough* to have crap in my garage that I only wear a couple of times a year (uh, yeah, that's why it still looks brand new!)

How sad.
I mean, really, how sad.

I still don't feel like I have that much to give. But I'll tell you what... I'm putting the dang jacket in the box. And I think even the new shoes I just bought at Target. And the brand new gloves and hand made scarves. I'll hand over my extra blankets and those little shoes.

Thank you God for giving me gentle reminders of YOUR heart. And please make sure the person that receives these things feels your love for them, Jehovah Jireh.

2010-12-27T05:21:00.000-08:00

My God is a redeeming God, that's for sure. And I will most definately be calling on Him for that in a few hours. I'm up, about to write and it's only 5:22am. I've actually been up for much longer than that trying to go back to sleep, fighting off the call to get up and write. But alas, it hasn't worked. So I figure I'd better get up and do it and let the words flow from my fingers, even if I haven't a clue as to what the finished puzzle will look like.

God does that a lot with me, sets me up to do something, only giving me a little bit of an inspiration, and not much else. Like I said, I usually fight it. Today I kept telling myself (and making a pretty strong case for it, I might add) that I could sleep a little while longer and get up to write later. The whole house is asleep and these are precious hours to be had. But God knows better than that. He knows I'm faulty at keeping up my end of a bargain and more than likely I would either forget to do it, or dismiss it altogether. He knows that I need to strike while the iron is hot, and He'll *nag* at me until I get it done. Thankfully, I'm learning obedience, and I take a much shorter time to acquiesce than before.

Take for instance, late last week: I had blogged and had this feeling afterward that I should really write down either on a piece of paper or on the blog itself a *remember when* type of quip. I felt like I needed to write to myself about how no matter what, I must remember that being married is not optional. I have some pretty strong views on marriage and remarriage, all that I feel are Biblical, and I just thought I'd better write something that I could keep handy for when times get tough. A preemptive encouraging note to myself. Reminding myself that divorce is never, ever an option (unless one of us commits adultery). But since at that particular moment, my marriage was stable, I never "got around" to writing it. See.. I should have. Little did I know how quickly things could change.

Fast forward to this week. Things are good. Not perfect, but good. Notwithstanding any major hiccups, I believe that marriage is a life long commitment. When I took my vows with my husband, I wholeheartedly believe I made a covenant with God as well. For better or worse. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part.

So where exactly do I begin? Let me just say that every marriage ebbs and flows. And after being married for 10+ years, I am able to recognize when it's ebbing and when it's flowing. But never, in the total of almost 20 years of being with this person, have I ever wanted to walk away more than I did this weekend. And that is saying whole lot. Those that know me know how much my marriage has endured. And yet, I was considering leaving it all behind. A person can only take so much, and I really felt like I was at the end of my rope with it all. But the biggest problem was that I had no Biblical basis for leaving. I KNOW what the Bible says about marriage. I KNOW what I promised. I KNOW what devastation divorce causes to the hearts and minds of the people involved. But still.. my heart was puffed up and badly bruised. And I began to convince myself that my situation was different. I had the *right* to leave, that I shouldn't be treated this way; that I could make it on my own. That another man would find the treasure in me. And I just opened my mouth wide like a little birdie, gulping down the lies I was being fed.

But somewhere in the recesses of my heart, I knew that I needed to stop; arrest my thoughts, take captive my emotions and get on my face before God. But I just couldn't. The chains that bound up my heart were heavy. They literally constricted my breathing. And come Sunday morning.. the last place I wanted to be was at church, hearing about my need to forgive, as I have been forgiven. Hey! I was in the right here. I needed the tenderness, grace and mercy. Not him. Thankfully though, I had the guilt of not taking my little children to church hanging over my head. So instead we went to the evening service.

I was apprehensive about going. There is a passage in the Bible that talks about not coming to the house of the Lord if you have an offense that is unresolved against your brother, to address it first, then come back. I figured since my husband and I weren't even speaking that my offering (worship) would not be accepted before God until we were. And really, who knew when that was gonna happen? But at the very least, I wanted to go and sit under some teaching, letting the words fall over me, hopefully settling into my stony heart somewhere.

There was a guest speaker, a missionary through the sport of soccer. He actually was a part of the program that Airenne has been accepted to go with in June. He told of a story of when he was on a team that would travel down to Fresno and play the local team there. Apparently, there was one man that liked to heckle this team every time they came to play. He said the heckler would holler out "to hoo" every time they made a crummy play or missed a pass. After a while, the missionary figured out that the man was asking "To Who?" as in, to who(m) are you passing to? This heckler had a profound impact on the missionary. As did this missionary have on me.

He went on to talk about God's authority and used the illustration of King Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 4 and how God will humble you until you recognize who He is and relationally, who you are. He then posed the question "To whom do YOU play for, Christine?" (Ok, so he didn't really say MY name out loud, but he may as well have. Because it was in that moment, I realized just what he was saying...) Who really did I make my wedding vows with?

In the situation with my husband specifically, who do I think I am vs. the reality of who I am? Do I have the *right* to be angry? Do I have the *right* to hate? or to be hurt, or to hold a grudge? Well, many in today's culture would say yes. A part of me still says yes. But in the grand scheme of things.. that's irrelevant. The real question is.. who am I and what does God call me to do? He tells me to love. He tells me to forgive. He gave me the perfect example of Christ to model after, lean into, take shelter in. He has given me the freedom to let go. When the world around me says to fight tooth and nail for my*rights*, Christ says "Come here... Lay your burdens down. Find rest in me. Take MY yoke upon you because it is light. I've got this."

And so there it is. An hour later, I'm moved to tears because of that little nugget. I didn't know that's what he as gonna tell me this morning, but I'm glad He did. I suppose it was definitely worth getting out of bed for.

The Big(ger) Picture

2010-12-20T23:46:00.000-08:00

I was schooled today. By my teenage daughter. And all I could think of was *out of the mouths of babes* as I shook my head in shame. It was a gentle nudge, maybe a flick upside my head in one of those God-thing "ah ha!" moments. Whatever it was, I got the message. Loud and clear.

My kid plays soccer. Well, actually, she can play almost any sport and play it really well. But soccer is the clincher. It's her thang. She's been playing for a long time, so much so that we just assumed that it would be used as an avenue for her to go to college or whatnot. We never gave it a second thought that it wouldn't happen. It was always something that we were pretty casual about. But she's getting restless. Ready to fly the coop and try life. School is winding down. College applications are being mailed out, classes are being ditched. So it seemed like a natural progression that after we hosted a coach from an international missionary team 2 years ago,that her interest would be piqued. And today we got the news that she had been accepted onto the team that is headed to Germany in June.

I am beyond excited. Very proud. And yes, I am somewhat living vicariously though her. As soon as she read me the acceptance email, I started making calls. Gushing over my kid's achievement. Day dreaming about the possibilities for her. And for some reason, the bigger picture never occurred to me. Then I saw her Facebook status update:

GOT ACCEPTED TO GO TO GERMANY FOR JUNE 2011!!

thank you JESUS!!

and as a reply, she added:

YEEE THANKS GUYS SO MUCH!! IM TOO HAPPY. I GET TO MINISTER

TO LITTLE CHILDREN ABOUT THE BIBLE!

And then it hit me. She was going to be going to Germany to be a missionary. And she was excited about *that*. Yes, heading to the other side of the world is very *cool*. But that wasn't her first thought... like it was mine.

Then my mind snapped like a taught rubberband and was flooded with repentance. How worldly has my focus become? Good Lord.

So I began to think about her whole life in it's entirety, and what rocky beginnings we had. As a teenager that had a baby, I am acutely aware of the odds that were stacked against us. against her. No one would have ever thought that we.. that SHE woulda, coulda, shoulda make it. But we did. And look at the possibilities that lie before her.

I reflected on all of the people I knew that thought I should abort when I became pregnant and the pressures I was under when I decided to keep her. It really hit me hard about her worth and about how I never in a million years would think that she would want to be a missionary or that she would get the chance to go around the globe to do it. And I thought long and hard about the value God saw in her when He created her. He knew all along. But I didn't . They didn't. My baby is going to Germany to teach little children about the Bible. How much better can it get?

We're going to have to do some serious fund raising. But that's ok. Because I am confident in this: that He who created a good work in her will continue in it until that day.

So I lied...

2010-08-26T18:41:00.000-07:00

Thankfully I serve a merciful, gracious and redeeming God.

"But whoever has this world's goods and sees his brother in need, and shuts up his heart from him, how does the love of God abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word

or in tongue, but in deed and in truth..." 1 John 3:18

Last week there was a knock at my door, from a little neighborhood girl (who is all of about 11 years old) that lives not too far from me. I answered it, wondering what she must want now. She's been here before, either looking for her kid brother, or often times asking to *borrow* really random things.

I think her mom works a lot and isn't around to supervise much. My first clue was because of the way her little brother behaves and the language he uses when he's here, and my other hint is because of the really peculiar things they request. One time, the eldest sister, who is about 15/16 and a friend of theirs, who is staying with them, arrived at my door holding one baby on the hip and one toddler by the hand and asked to borrow a stroller. I was like ..really? a stroller? They don't even know me. But what ev. Go ahead, I got it out of the van for them. Then through the course of the conversation, I realized I recognized the *friend*. It was one of the teen moms I was trying to minister to back when I was volunteering at Lindberg (she has hit hard times is no longer with the "Baby Daddy" and is staying with this family for support. She had no idea that it was I that lived right down the street). It was an amazing orchestration of God's provision for this girl; and then of course, I was humbled that He allowed me to be apart of it.

Fast forward to last week and the familiar knock on the door returned. This time, I was not so humble , rather quite a bit annoyed when I answered only to be asked if I had some band-aids. Typically, I don't buy them because the boys love to use them as body art, so I quickly told her "No" and shut the door. About a second later I was overwhelmed with guilt, knowing that I did indeed have a couple of band-aids in my first aid kit in the car. But I was too lazy, too stingy and too angry to go get her even one. I felt horrible that I lied.

So. Last night I head to the store to get decorations for Mathias' birthday and pick up two sippy cups for Lucas...I figured it's about time to transition him to a cup for real (ok, ok, he's the *baby* and I'm letting him ride that wave as long as possible). Anyway, It wasn't what I intended on purchasing, but there they were.

What does this possibly have to do with this little girl you might ask? read on.

Then about an hour ago there's that little knock on the door again. This time, it's the little sister with her friend returning to ask if they can have 2 baby bottles. In my head, I was rolling my eyes at them for making such a ridiculous request, told them "sorry", that I still use all the ones I have and shut the door.

And in that split second.. AGAIN.. I realized, yes I do. I have a couple of short bottles Lucas doesn't ever use and.. da da daaaa.. I JUST bought those 2 sippy cups! So I turned back to the door and called the girls to come back. I asked if they needed the nipples and rings also, to which they replied yes. So I went and dug around a little bit and voila! Two bottles.

When I handed them to the girls, I asked what they needed them for (in all honesty I thought maybe they were playing with their baby dolls or something and wanted a dumb bottle). What they told me left me in a tail spin to which all I could do was shut the door and weep in my heart.

Apparently, a friend of theirs (NOT the same teen mom as before) got dropped off at their house unexpectedly with her 6 month old baby. The only thing they have with them was their clothes. The dad left them there (I'm guessing after a fight) and took off with all of the baby's things. ugh.

I am speechless.

Not necessarily for the situation with this young mother (sadly, this kinda of drama happens all the time). But for the provision, providence, redemption, mercy, grace, compassion, longsuffering, love and tenderness God is showing her... and me.

Boys will be boys?.. Not on my watch

2010-07-07T14:41:00.000-07:00

So today the boys had a playmate over. There are a couple of kids that are about the same age as my boys, that live down the street a-ways. All of which I limit their time with. So today they were exuberant in (finally) having a buddy over.

There used to be even more boys that would gather at our house... but a couple of them, brothers *W* and *G*, have moved out of the area. *G* was Zach's best friend, or at least he thought so. They were only in first grade together for a couple of months, but somehow they bonded. tightly. I did everything in my power to keep them apart. I even went so far as to ask the school teacher to separate them as much as possible while at school. But still.. they were drawn together. Zach's teacher was baffled at the attraction too. She said they were miles apart in their behavior and intellect. The poor boy didn't know his birthday or phone number. And he had been held back in first grade once already. *W* and *G* were kids that could be very sweet, but were left to fend for themselves. a lot. On more than one occasion *W*, the little one, who was only 4 years old, could be found literally wandering the neighborhood alone, in the dark. One day while it was storming really bad, he showed up on my doorstep, barefoot and soaking wet, asking if my boys could come outside to play. It was heartbreaking.

Then it occurred to me to allow this boy to come over openly. Obviously he and Zach loved each other and who knows what type of good influence our family could be to this kid. So he started hanging out in the house and a couple of times I took him on errands with us. One time, on a trip to Costco he needed help tying his shoes because he didn't know how. Zach readily helped his friend. This small gestre of my child really spoke to me that day. It wasn't much too long after this picture was taken that *G* moved to another state. Zach was sad for several days. He even cried about it.

Now there is another boy who also lives down the street, *R* who used to be kinda like the 3rd wheel when *G* was around. He came over today. He was the playmate. I went against my better judgment and allowed it to happen. Without fail, every single time this kid comes over, he gets sent home for bad behavior or language. I feel bad for my kids because they get caught between their friend's antics, and their mom's rules. But guess what? I'm bigger.

It's not like they are horrible, but even minor infractions, when added up become too much. Bashing the plants, climbing on or hopping over the fence, getting into things that are not theirs, typical boy stuff. Usually, it's this kids' language that shocks me. This kid knows things that my 7 year old isn't even curious about yet, not to mention my 5 year old with his super-sonic sized ears. Today was no exception. He spouted off that he "has three titties". Gulp. Okay, now that's enough.

Now I'm not the kind of mom that places blame solely on other kids. I am fully aware that my child's behavior is completely voluntary. It's fun being naughty and to say things that are off limits. It's not so fun to get busted for it.

So I keep a close eye on things when this kid is here. I spied my boys outside today learning from the Master's hand at how to make fart noises under their armpits. And how to tackle in the mud. And how to make a skateboard swing like a teeter totter. All in good fun, they were just boys being boys. When they came inside to watch a movie, because the heat was getting too intense, I marveled at the weight of the stench that came off of this kid's sweaty feet. Way beyond his years, I tell ya. He had the smell of a man.

Now I don't feel like I shelter my kids from nearly enough. We are careful with what we allow them to be exposed to, but they have caught their fair share of curse words flowing out of their mother's mouth, have played fighting/shooting video games and have even witnessed an occasional passionate scene on TV. But for some reason, when the message comes from a little person, a kid their own age, I internally freak out.

So while *R* was here today, Ty came and told me that he and *Z* took a postcard I had and were oogling at the model, who was wearing a bra and panties. *R* was telling *Z* to 'kiss the hott lady' (in the picture), who then turned and said the same thing to his little brother. Oh great. And so it begins.

I immediately sent this kid home. Then I made *Z* confess to his dad what they had been doing. I don't want to be known as the mean old lady of the neighborhood, but really? They are 7 years old!

Needless to say *R* won't be coming over again anytime soon.

Nothing Beckons Civilization Like the Golden Arches

2010-06-23T01:56:00.000-07:00

I've had a very long day today. very long.

I drove 3 hours (one way) to go visit/check in on my grandma. And apparently whatever wrong turn I could make today, I did, and did it with gusto! What should have taken me exactly 3 hours took me about 4 hours and 15 minutes. I wasn't lost, per se. I just got turned around a couple of times. I haven't been to her house in about a year so I was relying on all of the familiar landmarks to guide the way, as they so faithfully have for the past 7-8 years. Trouble is, almost all of the landmarks were now either covered by thick summer vegetation or completely demolished. I guess that's what happens in the country. Weeds grow and buildings collapse.

But I've decided that I need to be doing this more faithfully, going to visit her. She' getting pretty up there in years and dementia is settling in. So I suppose I'll be attempting to do the once a week visit thing. So as you can imagine, there WILL be funny stories forthcoming.

I really don't mind going up to spend time with her, but it's all of the whoopla in getting to that point that's a bother. She is NOT kid friendly, so bringing the boys is out of the question. She does like them when they are babies though (who doesn't like babies?) so *L* was warmly welcome, but I left the other two heathens at home. The big problem with her liking babies is that *L* is a big chunk and she'a kinda fraile, so although she wanted to hold him, I made her sit down with him to do it.

Anyway, I took some meals up to her and helped her get her bills organized. And before I knew it, the time had slipped away. It was nearing 9 o'clock and I still had a 3 hour drive home. Funny side note: All of the clocks in her house were wrong. She never set them when the time changed, so I thought it was an hour ealier than it really was all day. I first noticed it when I picked up my cell phone to call the house to let them know I'd be leaving. When I showed her the correct time, she didn't believe me because she didn't remember hearing about a time change. She insisted that she call the operator to find out what the REAL time was.

So as I scrambled to pack up the car, the baby patiently waited for me in his play pen. I wanted to try to get down the mountain before it was pitch black outside. But you know how it is leaving grandmas house.. she loaded me up with all kinds of stuff that she doesn't want anymore (like 9-10 pairs of jeans. And by the way, have I ever mentioned that I am the tallest person in my family at 5'9"? She's stands about 5 feet. Maybe not even that. So go figure why she gave ME some jeans. lol.)

I drove in the dark.

But before I left, I went into the loo for a quick potty break. I felt so stupid. I scared myself coming out. You see, she has a full length mirror hanging from the back of the door adjacent to the bathroom. I walked out, glanced over and saw someone standing really close to me and I jumped. duh. it was my own reflection >>eyeroll<<. And this seemed to be par for the course.

I drive down the mountain, just me and the baby, and I start to worry that I'm going to hit a deer, swerve off the side of the road and land upside down in a ravine somewhere. Yeah, I know. I've got issues. or an over active imagination. or whatever. I'm intently observing the signs and posted speed limits, but in all honesty, I can barely see anything. I had (HAD) one pair of glasses. and have 4 kids. Need I say more? So I squint.

An hour into the trek, the baby is crying, I'm talking to my sister on the phone, I'm wondering if mosquitos are biting me and I'm start to get a little panicky inside that I missed a turnoff in the dark or something. Nothing seemed to look familiar. It's a two lane country road that has very few street lamps on it. So much for my landmarks. I wondered if I should turn back and find someone to ask directions. But alas, all that was out were hitch hikers. One especailly caught my eye. One, because it was still like 90* outside and he was wearing a poncho and long pants, but even more than that, he looked like Richard Ramirez. Uh no thanks. I have a full tank of gas. I'll just keep driving.

And then, up ahead. I see it. The Golden Arches. Perfect. I didn't even care if I had been driving in the wrong direction for the last 30 minutes. I could get it all straightened out now. There were live people working. humans. deep breath in: deep breath out.

In one fell swoop, I got directions, a large coke to keep me awake and milk for the baby. I'm telling ya, they need to put those arches up in place of lighthouses on the coast.

Chasing Down Coupons

2010-05-18T19:06:00.000-07:00

I've been keeping busy these days with Extreme Couponing. Well, that's what I call it anyways. I collect about 3-4 sets of Sunday paper coupon inserts every week and scour the circulars and ads for the best deals. I then buy the items I find the best deals on en mass. The idea behind it is that you purchase large quantities of items (basically stock pile) at a really cheap price. Later on down the road, you've actually saved money. Anyway, shopping this way has become quite thrilling for me. Hunting down bargains and watching my savings grow has been intoxicating.

I dunno what exactly is more interesting to me: the hunting/gathering aspect; the filling of my cupboards and feeling like I have *enough* aspect; the rush I get when I see my receipt's bottom line of my savings??... all of it, I suppose.

Either in the solitude of wandering the aisles or late at night literally clipping coupons, I've learned a lot about myself and my own personal hangups. One being that, in my world, *stock piling* can teeter on the verge of hoarding. It's very easy for me to get into purchasing things that I most likely would never use, just because it's cheap.

Case in point: I had carried around two coupons for $3 off medicated hemorrhoid butt wipes. This in itself is ridiculously funny. Why was I hanging on to them though? Because they were *high value* coupons! I finally found the *Tucks* for $2.72 each. You can imagine my delight.. Yes! I would get the wipes for free! How thrilling. But did I need them? no. Does anyone in my household need them? no. But I couldn't bring myself to pass up this deal. After 4 weeks of carrying Polident denture adhesive coupons around in my folder, I finally gave up the fight and threw the coupons out. But it was a hard decision. >>Big fat eyeroll at myself<<.

"Now godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into [this] world, [and] [it is] certain we can carry nothing out. And having food and clothing, with these we shall be content. But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and [into] many foolish and harmful lusts which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is a root of all [kinds of] evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. But you, O man of God, flee these things and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, gentleness..."

1 Timothy 6:6-11

So today, I head on over to the store and make my coupon purchase. I came home almost giddy at how little I spent and I reviewed my receipt. I noticed that the total was far less than what I anticipated it to be. Now wonder I was happy...But upon taking a closer look, I found the error. The coupon scanned for higher value to be taken off than what it said in print directly on the coupon. The coupon was only for $4, but it rang in as taking $5.99 off. Yay for me! right?

Wrong.

In all honesty, I don't know if it was a computer glitch, or the clerk making a mistake. I think it was the latter. Regardless, I felt obligated to go back to the store and set things right. If I were to tell you that it didn't cross my mind to keep the overage, I'd be lying. It did. and not only did I not want to go thru the hassle of returning to the store for a measly two bucks, I secretly wanted to *stick it to the man*. I mean, really...how often does the store find and error and come to me to correct it? um.. never!?! Quite the opposite actually. When they make a mistake, I again have to go in and get an adjustment and somehow feel like I'm the bad guy for asking for it to be corrected.

So in the hour or so that I sat on the fence deciding whether or not to go back to the store, this phrase kept popping up in my head:

Pursue Righteousness.

Simple.

P U R S U E R I G H T E O U S N E S S.

Then I wondered.. how far would people go to ACTUALLY pursue righteousness? How far will I go?

I went back to the store with my receipt in hand, not knowing whom I should speak with. I was earnestly worried that if I went to Customer Service, pointing out the error, the clerk would get into trouble for the mistake or her till would be off. I wound up speaking to the clerk directly about the transaction and she said that it was ok. The computer was at fault and that it wouldn't get her into any kind of trouble. Happy accident.

When I came home, I looked into the Bible to see what that phrase means. To me, specifically. And those verses are what I got. Pretty heavy stuff, I'd say.

Much more valuable than the $1.99 I got in error, that's for sure.

Cents and Sensibilities

2010-04-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

Prom season has come upon our house, which means lots of shopping, glitter hair spray and lipstick.

Prom was Saturday and as of Friday Airenne had the dress, but no shoes to go with and no time to go shopping. She had her usual school schedule with a soccer game and track meet crammed in between. So I did what any mother would do who had a camera on her cell phone. I went virtual shopping.

The plus side of having a daughter that is tall is that we can share our wardrobe. Ok, well, usually she wears my clothes and I wear her shoes, for obvious reasons...it just works out better that way. But for shopping purposes, it's great. I was able to go into a couple of stores, gather up a few pairs of shoes that were .. ahem.. *acceptable* and try them on to make sure they had her size. I then took a picture of each of them and sent it to her via picture mail. She sent me the picture back of the ones she liked best. And viola! shoe shopping done. I figured we'd go shopping "for real" early Saturday morning, before her hair appointment to actually try them on and pick them up.

But as I was leaving the pavilion, I started doubting my choices for her. She and I don't always have similar taste.. but on these shoes, we did agree. The dress was a little black number with cut outs in the back. It had tuxedo tucks and light sequins along the neckline. She fit it perfectly. Anyway, the shoes we picked out were very sexy. Almost too sexy, but perfect for this dress. I wasn't sure if they were appropriate for an almost 17 year old. But I knew they would look great on an almost 35 year old.

And that got me to thinking..."If I buy these shes for her, I can wear them later with a cute pair of jeans or something.. Ah, who am I kidding, I'd probably never really wear those. I'd be too tall in them... where would I wear them to... they'll end up giving me blisters..." yada yada. I began to talk myself out of them before I even purchased them. I told myself that I was too old to worry about looking *hot*. I'll just stick with my boring, flat, brown, sensible shoes. You know, the ones every mom has. Easy to slip on, comfortable. ugly.

I couldn't believe it. I was actually... CONSCIOUSLY having a moment where I was giving in. Giving up. Literally, I allowed myself to pass from a stylistically verging, thirty-something year old woman... into a frump. I expected it to be a slow fade, but this day.. it went full throttle into the dumps. Christine was put in the back seat.

Not too long ago, at a Christmas sale, I spied a pair of ruby red, patent leather Mary-Jane stilettos... And I bought them! I was so proud of myself. I felt like I was on my way back from a land far far away, where I looked and smelled like everyone else and said all the *right things*. These shoes would be my ticket outta that place.. back to where I "used to live". Where a Little Bit of Sexy neighbored with Ms. Responsible. I wanted to go home. Get out of my minivan life and meet up with myself for a long drive on the coast, top down, hair whipping in the wind.

Sigh.

But I have yet to wear these exquisite shoes anywhere but my bedroom. Wait...that didn't come out right. I mean, I have not worn them yet in public. I knew they would look fabulous with the right outfit. But every time I think about wearing them, I talk myself out of it. I mean really, these shoes are fierce. The ooze "Christine". But I feel funny about walking out of the house with them on. Who am I to be wearing these? I mean, I'm a mom. And I haven't worn heels in so long, I probably would trip over myself in them.

Yesterday bright and early, I took *A* to check out a couple of more places before we settled on the purchase of the black sandals. Then from the bottom shelf, a pair of sweet baby pink high heeled beauties called my name. LOUDLY. I seriously gasped with joy when I saw these shoes. I put them on and strutted around the store with them almost the entire time that *A* was checking out her options. They fit like Cinderella's glass slippers, I felt so pretty in them. I was this close >.< to buying them. Even *A* said that if they make me feel that pretty, then I should buy them.

Then I looked at the price tag and felt defeated. dangit. They were more than I was willing to spend, especially considering that we were supposed to be shopping for *A*'s shoes, not mine. So I put them back. And slipped my old comfy brown shoes back on. We did end up buying her the first pair of sexy shoes we'd agreed on, and maybe, just maybe.. you'll see me around town with them on.

Storytellers..

2010-04-12T22:15:00.000-07:00

Mmmmm. I'm about to enjoy one of life's simple blessings. I just poured a glass of Mango/White Tea iced tea (with lots of ice chunks, of course) and popped a bag of butter popcorn and topped it with M & M's. nummy. All the kids are sleeping and have a bit of time in my own head. Ahhh.. life is good.

Tonight was smoother than most nights. I am usually the one to get dinner made and shoveled down the kid's mouths and bathtime/bedtime routines done. It's while I'm making dinner that everything usually gets crazy. The boys bicker, the phone rings, the baby wakes up.. the panic of "oh no , what am I gonna make for dinner?" sets in.. but not tonight. Tonight was easy.

The baby was set in his high chair, contentedly self feeding and the boys were playing Batman & Robin in the bedroom. Somehow watching Alvin and the Chipmunks for the fourth time inspired them to show brotherly love today. Fine by me.. the less quarreling, the better. I was able to get lost in my own quiet thoughts while I was cooking dinner. And when I looked over to that precious, chubby, quiet baby of mine sitting in his big boy chair.. this is what I saw:

He was feeding his dinner to the dog. sigh.

And then, feeding himself.

Earlier today I was going thru some professional photographer's blogs and websites and was so smitten by the images I saw. I do that from time to time, just peruse thru websites to gain ideas and fresh perspective, not just in portriature, but in life. They were so artsy and beautiful. Some were raw.. but a posed raw. Studio raw. I guess then, not very *raw* at all. lol. But still, beautiful. Inspirational.

So inspirational, as a matter of fact, that I got myself a pretty nice camera a while back, hoping to get my own collection of images. And although I admittedly haven't figured out how to use it to it's best capabilities, I bought it with the intentions of taking some of those beautiful *raw* pictures too. But insted of posing and enhancing a perfect shot, I've been pointing and shooting. Getting whatever the moment allows me to. Not much with an artsy flair either, much to my shagrin. I haven't even taken my own kids out for a real session with it either. Time escapes me.

So tonight, when I uploaded these, I was a little disappointed. I was hoping for that perfect "Norman Rockwell Shot". They certianly were lacking in the creativity department, that's for sure. Almost no artsy flair whatsoever... And then I thought to myself.. "Who really cares anyway? I'm the only one that will see them and know that I am not reaching my potential.." And that thought, has been hanging in the front of my brain for a couple of hours now. And it's really bugging me. But why?

Because I wanna have a pretty blog >>balls a fist and stomps feet on the ground<<. I wanna take awesome pictures >>pouts out lower lip<<. I wanna, I wanna, I wanna. I wanna some cheese with my whine.

Seriously? Can I just get over myself already? sheesh.

So what is it that is stopping me from doing it then? Is it the talent? Is it the time? Is it the true interest? I dunno. Maybe all three. Or maybe, it' just not my style. What I see on the computer screen is what I WANT to be. But not what I am. The two worlds are not meshing.

I know how to stage. I can get a babysitter. I can research it all. I've been educated and trained in the field. For heavens sake I can even develop film the old fashioned way by hand. So then, why do I look at something and identify with it in one aspect, but am not able to wholly incorporate it into who I am? For some reason, when the camera is in my OWN hands, I take a different kind of picture (albeit a little flat in dimension). I tend to take pictures that tell a story. Or maybe speak a word. I should be happy with that, right? Maybe that's just *me*?

At least I can take comfort in Phillipians 1:16: in that "being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in ME will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.."

No matter what I hold myself back from, no matter what stands in my Earthly way.. the work that He has started in me WILL be completed someday. Despite my best efforts to thwart it. I don't have to worry that He has gotten bored with me, or that He changed His mind about His plan for me... or that He wasn't talented enough to perfect it within me. He will continue to do it, until *that* day. How wonderful to know that I can relax in His perfect plan for me.

This conversation with myself reminded me of when I was in 5th grade. I was on the playground with a few friends and we were supposed to share with the class what we wanted to be when we grew up. I remember thinking to myself.. "Photojournalist".. but I was embarrassed to share that because I really had no idea what it was or how to be one. lol. It just sounded like a big fancy word to me. Fast forward 9-10 years and I'm taking a photography class. Three years later, I'm in Journalism and Editing. Finally, I'm graduating with a degree in the stuff, and still, I am not confident enough to claim it. To really claim it. So until I do, I suppose I'll be a closet photojournalist. But I'll live my dreams out here on my blog. And maybe even post some of my favorite pictures here. But don't be surporsed of you see the same faces over and over though. My kids are my favorite subject these days.

Nit-Picky

2010-04-10T06:36:00.000-07:00

I've been sick for the past couple of days, so I've been trying to catch up on some rest. But invariably what ends up happening is I shock the heck out of my system with all of the extra hours of sleep, then I get off kilter and outta whack. I went to bed at 3am (ONLY because I felt guilty that *B* had gone to bed 4 hours prior, not because I was tired). And now.. it's 6:38am and I can't keep my eyes closed. Not to mention my dry, hacky cough is quite annoying.

So I come out to my computer as usual, and log onto this blog. And what I notice has got me all in a fit. The formatting is off and I can't quite get it right. It's not uniform and it's driving me bonkers, so unsuccessfully, I try and try to fix it. And then it messes up my ticker at the bottom right >>>. ggrrr.. It's not that big of a deal, but it's annoying me that I don't know how to fix it. Perfectionist? no. Control freak? yes.

And here I had an inspiration to actually try to get back into writing. I've been slacking off in that department for a long time. And although I wasn't sure how I was going to approach my blog, this blog in particular, I just knew that I needed to get on it more. I have another blog, specifically for Charlotte and my journey after loss, but I want to keep that separate, only for that purpose. Then I remembered a suggestion that a friend of mine had a few years back when I was writing about Charlotte. He suggested to me to look into maybe publishing a devotional. Ha! Yeah, like I know what I'm talking about. People who write devotionals are all smart 'n stuff. They know the Bible inside and out. They have a relationship with Jesus that can not be penetrated. Pffft! Yeah. whatever.

But it got me thinking.

When I was writing about her I was able to recall verses in the Bible that I didn't even realize that I new. And when I would read it, I was able to understand it and actually apply it to my daily life. I was actually very fulfilled in reading the Word and living it out. Then, over time, I got in a funk. I've just felt overwhelmed and under attack. And in typical fashion, I would push my relationship and communication with God aside, only making my lot worse. Can anyone relate?

"All Scripture [is] given by inspiration of God, and [is] profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work. .."

2 Timothy 3:16-17

Er.. uh.. so here I am >>shrug<<. I'm taking a stab at getting back on track. I've rejoined a Bible study. One where the only book that is used is the Bible. And I'm blogging again. This time, with a *real life* application focus. This is for my personal growth, but you are welcome to come on the journey with me. I may not always nail the verse on the head, but I'm gonna try my best to. And maybe one day I'll look back on this and think: "Wow, I'm really glad I did it."

Wisest of Men....Me? not so much.

2010-04-09T19:37:00.000-07:00

King Solomon is said to be the wisest of men to grace this planet. That's pretty big shoes to fill; or should I say sandals?? Think of all of the smart guys you've ever known personally, let alone heard of. Names like Einstein, Socrates, Dante, Plato, Darwin (ok, just checking to see if your paying attention on that last one. lol)... all pale in comparison to King Solomon.

My favorite story about him was when the two women came to him, demanding for a just judgement regarding a baby that did not belong to one of them.

"Then the king said, "Bring me a sword." So they brought a sword before the king. And the king said, 'Divide the living child in two, and give half to one, and half to the other'....And all Israel heard of the judgment which the king had rendered; and they feared the king, for they saw that the wisdom of God [was] in him to administer justice.

1 Kings 3:24-25, 28

So it was along this premise that I decided to teach a life lesson to my own children today. Now obviously, the initial idea was not mine, nor was the practical application of it. Rather, the latter I'd heard about from another mother that had successfully imparted this lesson to her brood. The scenario looked something like this: My mom had brought over a cake. An ooey-gooey chocolate and strawberry pudding filled cake. It has been in our refrigerator for a couple of days on the middle shelf, directly in the line of sight of my 5 year old. Everyday after school he has been asking if he can have a slice of this cake. I usually let him have a very small, very measured slice as a treat for completing his homework or whatnot (I've really milked the power of this cake, lemme tell ya). But I recognized today that he really has been a good boy in resisting the temptation of getting into the cake without permission. I mean, literally the thing has been staring him in the face, but he never tampered with it.

So while I was in the shower he came in and asked me if he could have some. I told him yes, but that he had to wait for me to get out to help him. I had it set in my mind to actually blog about temptation and set some verses to it and maybe even take a few pictures of him with his cake. And I was ready, with a camera in hand, to capture the moment of divinity when I told him that not only could he go ahead and have a piece, but that he could cut it himself. I was eager to catch every moment of it.

And then the moment of truth came...

His big brother showed up and asked for some cake too.

Well, I didn't have an issue of the boys sharing the last slice of heaven between them, but apparently *M* did. He wanted it ALL. I was really hoping to have a teachable moment here...

I KNEW that if I allowed *M* to cut the cake without direction, he would slice it to his advantage. Then it dawned on me.. I can still have the little one cut the cake.. but the big one would get to select which piece he wanted first. Surely this situation would be packed with wisdom and learning! You know.. love your brother as yourself.. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.. the list goes on.

Well, I tried to tell him before he cut into the cake that his brother got first dibbs. But apparently he thought I was joking.

It was a hard lesson to learn today.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it...

2010-04-08T00:30:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those moments where you are all alone and you completely embarrass yourself, but then you think: "well, at least no body was around for that one" -or- you think: "Wow. did I just say that out loud?" Yeah. I did that this morning...

Lemme back up a little bit. We've been out of bread for several days around here, which means, no sandwiches to take for lunch. I've been to the grocery store several times already this week and each time, I forget the bread. And that's not all. We were also out of milk. I had used the last of it the night before for Luke's bottle and I knew that he would want a bottle after we took the boys to school. So obviously, a trip to the market was in order. Well, today, for some reason, I was actually running early and had some time to go pick these things up before going to school. So I loaded all three boys into the van and headed to the corner market.

Again, lemme preface this by saying that we do not live in a ritzy area. at. all. Our neighborhood is older and well established, but very modest. And that's ok.. but "around the corner" (which is actually around several corners, about a half mile or so) it's pretty seedy. Put it this way.. there were three grown men outside of said *corner market* brown baggin' it this morning at 9am.

So after a laborious lecture of "don't touch anything, don't ask for anything, be nice to your brother, no I don't need that, put that cart back, didn't I JUST tell you no? we are only here for bread and milk", yada yada, I get all the kids in the store with me. We pushed past the banana stand (oops, lemme grab just a small bunch of those!) and strolled along the far wall (oh yummy, those crackers look good)..and we finally reached the bread. Two loaves in, with minutes to spare.

Then we headed over to the refrigerated section. *M* not being self aware yet, pushed his way past a man that was opening the case. He tried to grab a gallon of milk for me, but it was too heavy for his scrawny little arms to lift up and out, so the man leaned into help him. But in all reality, he totally cut off the man holding the door.

I quite sternly told *M* that he needed to wait his turn and to get out of the man's way. He was tall and kinda thin, wearing the marks on his face of a hard life. His hair looked a little dirty, his clothes didn't appear to be freshly laundered, his teeth were a wreck, but he was smiling while allowing my 5 year old to jump ahead of him. I was very proud of myself for reminding my son, publicly of course, how to treat other people. (Humfp! Yeah right all that was missing was my finger wagging in the boy's face). And in a split second, what I really thought in my head was: "eew, I hope you didn't touch the same milk that man did".

"Then the LORD saw that the wickedness of man [was] great in the earth, and [that] every intent of the thoughts of his heart [was] only evil continually..."Genesis 6:5

And there you have it.

In the quiet of the store, my ugly heart shouted from within me, but no body was around to hear it >>whew!<<. or was there? Yep, God heard it. loud and clear. And immediately I was embarrassed. Ashamed of myself. Literally, I could feel my face flushing... And then, as if the first thought wasn't bad enough, I tried to justify it by thinking.."But.. but...but... what if that man has hepatitis or something? eew. He was touching everything. It's people like *THAT* that cough and get nasty germs all over things. Oh gosh. Lucas please don't lick the handle of the cart. Crap! I forgot his shopping cart cover in the car!!"

When did this happen? when did I become afraid of other people? What does it mean?

"Let none of you think evil in your heart against your neighbor...Love does no harm to a neighbor; therefore love

is the fulfillment of the law..."

Zechariah 8:17 & Romans 13:10

"Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels." Hebrews 13:2

For all I know, that man could have been an angel. The very image of Jesus Himself. And I effectlvely spit in the face of my...HIS...Creator. So what now? Quite frankly, I don't know. But I do know this: if a tree falls in the forest, SOMEONE will hear it.

Home Sweet Home...

2010-04-06T09:28:00.000-07:00

This morning really isn't any different than any other morning. I woke up to find a little boy that had magically appeared in my bed overnight and was all snuggly and warm... The baby had woken up all smiles; the other boy still in his own bed, sprawled out like a spider web. And *A* already out the door on her way to school. If I were to have taken the time to survey my life in that moment, I probaly would have become so overwhelmed with thanksgiving that I would have been a puddle on the floor.

I never would have thought that I could or would be a stay at home mom. That I would have a strong husband who loves Jesus. A husband that would be able to provide for a family... let alone a family of SIX; that we would not have *real* want for anything. That we would be like minded Spiritually, committed to each other and our children...that we would dare to continue to dream together, even after having our hearts broken. To say that I am *blessed beyond measure* pretty much sums it up.

Close to nine years ago *B* and I had decided that we wanted more children. We also decided that we wanted to buy a house and have me stay at home to raise the kids. It seemed, at that time, to be so out of reach. It wasn't favored by many people that we knew.. hearing "What did you go to school for if your not going to *do anything* with your education??" became a sad reminder of what our culture has become. Ours seemed like an impossible goal.

But we really wanted to glorify God by raising our children in a *traditional* home, even though neither of us came from that background. *B* and I grew up in homes where the women did it ALL.. including earning the paycheck to support the family. We essentially knew nothing of how to make this work, with the man as head of the home and the woman as a dutiful helpmeet. But here we are. Four children later. In a home that God provided for us, that suits us perfectly. It's not a stately mansion (we will have one of those in Eternity). But for now, in our earthly diggs, we are satisfied. content. and BLESSED.

"Indeed I have all and abound. I am full, having received ((from Epaphroditus)) the things [sent] from you, a sweet-smelling aroma, an acceptable sacrifice, well pleasing to God. And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus..." Philipians 4:18-19

So at some point this morning, before the chaos set in, I made my way into the bathroom and was greeted by the faint scent of *B's* cologne. I tidied up the countertops and picked up the laundry off the floor. I then resumed my tasks of getting the boys showered and ready for school. (They are headed back after a week off for Spring Break. whew! I'm unabashedly looking forward to a quiet, lazy afternoon, just me and the baby with my chore list narrowed down and prioritized).

When I got back from taking the kids to school, I laid the baby down for a nap and returned to the bathroom to turn on my flat iron. I hardly noticed when I first woke up, but now when I re-entered the bathroom I was met again with the pungent scent of *B's* cologne still hanging in the air. I was surprised at how strong the scent was since he had been gone for ar least 3 hours. It was still as strong as it was when he first sprayed it. It was nice, a little something he'd left behind. But even more, a reminder that he isn't here. He's at work. Sacrificing himself day in and day out for our family. All for the glory of God.

Rabbit Trails...

2010-04-04T01:07:00.000-07:00

Funny. Before I even begin this post, I side tracked. As I wrote the title.. I had to chuckle. You see, tonight is the eve of Ressurection Day... more commonly known as Easter. Get it??.. Easter.. rabbit trails.. hardy har har.

ANYWAYS... I was caught up in the quiet of the kitchen. The boys were all sleeping, my girl was in the other room.. I finally had the peace I'd been longing for all day. I was peeling eggs for the deviled eggs and making corn muffins; just thinking about tomorrow morning. I was envisioning the boy's faces when they see their Easter baskets. Picturing them, along with my neices, and the Easter egg hunt we'll have tomorrow in the backyard >>sigh<<. Just enjoying the solitude.

Mentally, I was going over the menu for tomorrow and craving the scent of what's to come. But as I was pulling out the muffin pan, I came across the service ware that I ALWAYS use for special occasions. I received it as a wedding gift; a beautiful silver plated platter and serving spoon with a glass baking dish. Every year at Thanksgiving, usually, I use it to bake my Praline Sweet Potatoes in. I scarcely remember using it for anything else. It's a side dish I made up that is in the makings to be a tradition. We don't have many of those anymore. I sorta left those behind when I moved away; alone now to make different traditions for my little family. One of them being my Praline Sweet Potatoes, served in this particular dish.

After each use, I have to wash and carefully wrap the silver pieces so that they don't tarnish. They have a brilliant mirrored reflection where they are covered, but in the few spots that are exposed, it is darkened. But I love this piece. It's so special to me.

So as I dutifully peeled the eggs, my mind wandered back to the meal for tomorrow. Drinks: check. Napkins: check. Paper Plates: check. (yes, I said paper plates.) For some reason, this seems weird to me to have paper plates. I really don't know why. I wasn't raised using China or crystal, and in all reality, paper plates are much more practical. No fuss, no muss. I was even taking inventory of how many aluminum trays I have to make the side dishes in. Heat, eat and toss. I was thinking about how much easier it's gonna be on me to use good 'ol Chinette. Then I crossed over to the silver dish.

Honestly, I didn't wanna have to unwrap the platter and unwrap the spoon... wipe it out before I use it..hand wash each piece when we're done and re-wrap it in the tissue paper that is now all wrinkled and tattered. Then it hit me. Well, more like tapped me on the shoulder.

"Then Mary took a pound of very costly oil of spikenard, anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped His feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil..." John 12:3

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day my Savior conquered death. But somehow it turned into just hosting my family for Easter Dinner. Don't get me wrong, we are going to church in the morning and we will say a prayer of thanksgining before we eat. Even though I LOVE to have people over, amidst the hustle and bustle of preparations, it became a chore for me. It turned into corner cutting and second best. Oh how humbling it is to realize this.

"But Jesus said, 'Let her alone; she has kept this for the day of My burial. For the poor you have with you always, but Me
you do not have always'..." John 12:7-8

Tomorrow is a day to celebrate. I earnestly desire to celebrate the One who gave His life for me. I will remind my children of the story of Jesus' death on a cross. I will believe in Him to fill my home with His presence. I will honor Him by what I do for my family in remembrance of Him. I will worship Him by serving my sweet potatoes in my silver dish.

Guess it's time to get serious again...

2010-03-25T21:44:00.000-07:00

I've taken a break from life for the for a while. I talked myself into believing that I *deserved* it, that I've got too much going on in my homelife that requires my attention (which I do) and maybe on the outside it doesn't look like I've checked out, but I know I have. And more importantly, God knows I have.

"Where can I go from Your Spirit, or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there, Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me." Psalms 139:7-10

Yesterday I went to a women's Bible study.. It was my second time there and since the first, I'd been looking forward to returning. There is just something about gathering with other women and discussing the Word of God. But today there was no study, there was a guest speaker. The topic was what various *hats* women wear. The speaker was not at all bold or intense, rather, she had a sweetness about her that drew me in. The kind of softness that only years of experience and supple wrinkles provide. As she talked, she smiled and held up a chef's hat, a gardening hat, a bicycling helmet, a pilgrim's bonnet, and of course, a mourning veil. Each of her hats had a story and I really was hoping to hear about more of each of them individually, but we ran out of time.

She started off by explaining the significance of each hat. I spied the black veil peeking out of the hatbox early on and held my breath; not really sure of what she was going to share about that one. In a way, I've come to get quite annoyed with myself whenever I'm in a setting where death or grief is brought up. No matter what the relation is, I can usually identify with the other person sharing their experience. Some may say empathy is a nice quality to have. But I will tell you that it is a hot and heavy burden at times.

"Blessed [be] the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ. Now if we are afflicted, [it is] for your consolation and salvation, which is effective for enduring the same sufferings which we also suffer. Or if we are comforted, [it is] for your consolation and salvation. And our hope for you [is] steadfast, because we know that as you are partakers of the sufferings, so also [you will partake] of the consolation. For we do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, of our trouble which came to us ((in Asia:)) that we were burdened beyond measure, above strength, so that we despaired even of life. Yes, we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves but in God who raises the dead... For our boasting is this: the testimony of our conscience that we conducted ourselves in the world in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom but by the grace of God, and more abundantly toward you. For we are not writing any other things to you than what you read or understand. Now I trust you will understand, even to the end..." 2 Cor 1:4-13

There are very real parts of me that would like to just move on from the whole Charlotte experience. I so badly want to shrug off this heavy coat I've been wearing. Yesterday seemed like one of those days... at first. I wasn't even thinking about it until I saw the black veil. When the woman put it on I, for a moment, thought "WOW! I wish I'd had one of those!.. That looks so chic and it really gets the point across..." totally selfish, I know. But it was a cute little hat & veil. When I regained my focus, I listened intently to what the speaker was saying. But again, my mind drifted off to *that place*. I was beginning to feel unsettled. Why do I have to drop my tears at the mere mention of grief? Even typing this out.. I'm beginning to cry. WHY!?! It's not something I think about often anymore. It's more like when it comes upon me unexpectedly. So I wiped my face and bent my ear. A little bit later, the speaker was saying how God doesn't want us to wear that veil forever. I get that. I was really glad to hear it. I thought I had moseyed away from the pit already. So then, why the tears?

It's not like it used to be, when I would feel like a rubber-band had snapped me back into that place. It's more of a sorrow, I guess. A longing. I dunno what it is exactly.

When there was discussion time afterwards, my turn came up and the question was "What hats have you worn?" I indignantly said the gardener's hat, the chef's hat, looking forward to the day I could wear the bicycle helmet (representing freedom and recreation). But not once did I say that I too, have worn the mourning veil. I had a huge lump in my throat, like I do now, and I made a concerted effort to not allow my voice to crack. I denied myself. I denied her. I denied God. I only say that I denied God because I feel like I denied His prompting maybe? Or maybe it's unrighteous guilt? There was a part of me that was proud of not blurting it out: "MY BABY DIED!" >>shrug<<. That just makes everyone uncomfortable. Again, I'm not sure of how I felt, I don't want to put that much thought into it. What I have noticed lately is how whenever I am in a somewhat spiritual setting, it seems as though God is meeting me there. Like He has orchestrated the whole event just for me. I went to a retreat a few weeks ago and He was there, wanting to share with me some truths about our relationship. Apparently I am a slacker in reading His word, so he put me where I would sit captivated and listen to Him. That's how I felt yesterday too. I was getting quite annoyed that I was feeling so selfish.. (arrogant, maybe?) about it. I know that sounds so stupid. But I was getting tired of it being all about me. I wanted His attention to be focused on some one else. Put His blazing spotlights on someone who really has problems. Not me. I can handle it (insert a big fat eyeroll at myself). And He did, I'm sure... I'm certian He was speaking to other women there, in just the way they needed to hear it too. I just wanted the heat off me.

"Cretans and Arabs--we hear them speaking in our own tongues the wonderful works of God." Acts 2:11

During the time that I had to pick up Lucas from the nursery and the ride home, I felt a lot of peace. It's almost as though the Lord was saying to me that He knows. He knows that tender spot in me is still bruised and hurting. He's touching it. It makes me want to squirm away from Him, but it's through His touch that the Balm of Gilead will come. He knows what can drop me in an instant. He is keeping me drawn to Him. He's preparing me. I can feel it. I don't know what for, but He is picking me up and dusting me off. Getting ready to ship me out again, maybe this time with a different hat.. .

It's been a long, long time.. 08/26/09

2009-08-26T16:54:00.000-07:00

Wow. Time sure flies.

Baby *L* is now 5 months old. Still such a happy baby. And he loves to give kisses and squeezes. If you say the word *kissy* get puckers up and dives right in. He's now grabbing handfuls of hair to bring my face into his too. So precious.

Tomorrow *M* turns 5. I can't believe I'm looking at a boy on his last day of being 4.

My life is full and I love it.

Becoming my husbands girlfriend...

2009-05-21T10:53:00.000-07:00

*B* and I went to a marriage seminar a couple of weeks ago and I heard that I should try to be my husband's girlfriend or he may go out and find one. Hmmm.. this was almost like an "ah ha!" moment for me. I've been told this before, in not so many words, by my husband himself, and for some reason or another, it always fell by the wayside.

It's not that I particularly have a true concern that my husband will find another woman more attractive than me and leave me for her. But he desires me to be at my *best* for him. All. the. time. I don't struggle with my self image in so many ways that women typically do. Are there areas I would like to change? Yes! Am I aware that some parts of my body are not that great to look at? Absolutely! But do I fret over what other people think of them? Nope. And therein lies part of the problem. I am a little too comfortable in my own skin. At least for my husbands liking.

I have no issues with going out of my house without having my hair done up and my makeup on. I can easily head to the market with my hair in a pony and my legs unshaved. I don't care. But for my husband, he likes me to have my hair and makeup done, even when he's not home. Don't get me wrong, I don't head out of the house purposely looking as bad as I can just to prove a point, but it doesn't get my feathers ruffled to take the kids to school wearing my slippers or to go grocery shopping sans mascara.

I've been with my husband since 1991. And we've been married since 2000, we've had the joy of being pregnant 5 times and the sorrow of burying one of our children... so trust me when I say he's seen me at my best AND worst. Where I struggle is when the Word of God gives a description of a beautiful woman, and my Christian husband sees the shell of what the world describes as beauty. They don't seem to mesh.

Ironically, I had been praying that *B* would have an "ah ha!" moment of his own at the seminar or at a men's retreat he was going to a week later. That his view of beauty and God's standard of beauty would reconcile and honestly that God would totally lay him out in how his attitude needed to change on this issue. Basically, I tattled to my heavenly Father.

And I would rally my friends and family to agree with me.

*********************************************************************************

wow. yet another post sitting in *DRAFT*. This on has haunted me since I started it. I knew this one was siting in the cache, whereas the last post I had totally forgotten about. It has been burdening me and if I'm honest with myself, I would say that part of why I haven't logged back on in so long was because this post sat there. Forcing me to look at myself.

I also remember this day well. I had pulled up into my driveway.. in my minivan. How's that for a hott mom? I parked and set the brake and looked down at my white legs. Then all of the sudden these thoughts began to flood my mind. I was complaining in my heart that I shouldn't HAVE to look a certian way for my husband to be pleased. I was grumbling to God and wanted B to get spanked for it. Then it hit me that part of the sacrificial love I am to have for my husband is to do what I can to please him.

I thought about a job interview and how when we go to an interview we look our best. But what would happen if we showed up to an interview with wet hair, wrinkled clothes or old makeup on? I don't mean to say that my marriage is bound by eyecandy, but if I know that my husband really likes me to look a certian way, than why not do my best to give that to him. In all seriousness, he doesn't ask for much. This shouldn't be a big deal.

So over the past few months, I've tried to do things (in small strides) that will bring me back to somewhat of a resemblance of what I used to be. Or at least what the new me looks like having added 20 pounds and 15 years. But in all of my efforts, I have noticed a change in B too. He still likes me to be dolled up for him. But he has definitely cut me some slack on the way I look when he's not around. I'm a busy girl, with baby goop on my clothes and my hair in a pony. But he loves me.

I really don't remember where I was going with all of this when I first started this post. That's the problem with postponing things till the time is right. You forget. Little details and big ideas get lost. So here it is. Another post that's kinda raw and unfinished. Just like me. lol.

Woah. Imma slacker... May 12, 2009

2009-05-12T23:18:00.000-07:00

Sheesh! October was my last post? Seriously?

I've found myself wanting to update this blog, but I keep getting caught up in doing other things instead. I was just about to go to bed and thought now might be a good time to work on it a little bit.

I've decided to make this my primary blog now rather than Charlotte's page. Her page I'd like to keep dedicated to her, and this one I would like to re-vamp and keep more to my daily musings.

Where do I start?

Well, I gave birth 8 weeks ago tomorrow. My son has been such a blessing to my heart and our whole family. He is such a sweet and content baby. I can't get enough of him.

*A* turned 16 on Sunday. She's been a big pain in my butt but I am so excited to see her transformation into a young woman. I tell my sister that *A* better find a strong willed man, someone that will be able to put her snooty butt in check. She'll give any guy a run for his money, that's for sure! *B* and I took her out to dinner and then she and I went to a play afterwards. We saw "Hairpray", it was a really nice evening.

I haven't been back to work with the teen moms since Christmastime. Holidays and minimum Wednesdays kept cropping up and before I knew it, I was hugely pregnant and didn't want to go. Now that the baby is here, I haven't had the chance to go by there except to make an introduction of the baby. I miss the girls, but I am finding great contentment in becoming a homebody. I am working on my *housewifey* skills. And for once, am really enjoying it.

Ok, I mean it this time. I am going to keep this one up more often. Now I'm off to make some adjustments.

Streching...

2008-11-03T15:34:00.001-08:00

My day was going along just fine. Then I got a call from Debbie at Lindberg. One of the girls lost her baby. She was 23 weeks along.

How many teens loose their babies and have no one to help them, I wonder. But why does it have to be me? Why today? I hadn't even showered yet. I've already been feeling so anxious about this baby growing inside me. Now I'm 20 weeks. This is all hitting too close to home. I don't even know what to say. And she wants me to bring Charlotte's book.

So I called Tanya, packed up *M* and off we went. I had no idea how long it was going to take me and I had to still pick up *Z* from school. I really didn't want to go. I was afraid of what I was about to face.

When I got there, she was sitting at the desk telling her friends what had happened. I've met her before, in fact, she's one I had noticed and wanted to get to know better. Strange how things work out.

we sat together and chatted for a few minutes and the things.

*******************************************************************************
ugh. This post has been sitting in *DRAFT* mode for over a year. I'm just going to post it anyway. I do remember this day. It was hard. I ended up attending the funeral for the baby.

I thought it was going to be a memorial service (without the decedents body there)... but it wasn't. The baby was laid in a tiny coffin. She was so small that I didn't even see her in there until I walked up to pay my respects to the family.

She was badly discolored, but other than that, in perfect form. I remember standing there wanting to pick her up and get a better look at her. She was perfect. Just dead. At that time, I think I was nearing 22-23 weeks pregnant with Lucas. I felt guilty being there, still full of life, when B's womb was now empty.

The smallness of the baby is what I remember the most. Probably because we were so close in our due dates together that I really internalized the development of the baby. He suddenly became very real to me.

I now regret not finishing this post at the time of it happening. There is another on in the que that I will also post. Dang it. I need to get back on track.

It's been a while. October 6, 2008

2008-10-06T20:56:00.000-07:00

Wow. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last posted.

My summer was leisurely packed with all sorts of things, not one of them having a huge impact on the girls I serve.

Although in late July I found out I am pregnant! That's pretty signifigant, but I still don't know how this is going to effect my work with teen moms. I have an idea that it may be a good tie in for me because many more of the girls this year are also pregnant rather than having toddlers. But I'm not entering into this with any big expectation or misguided notions that this baby is for this purpose. I am content in waiting on God to reveal it in His own time. I've learned my lesson.

I've assumed the Coordinator position for our MOPS group (Mothers of PreSchoolers). I really like it, but it is a stressor. And I'm still plugging along with the Seeds of Hope program. We were supposed to have meetings over the summer, but I cancelled them because most of the girls left the area for the season. They haven't returned to Lindberg either. They either have graduated or have returned to tradtional high school. There was one girl that at the end of last year found out that she was pregnant again. She was considering abortion. I tried to reach out to her, but she seemed kind of out of reach. I was thinking about her all summer long but didn't know how to ge tin touch with her.

Well, she showed up at Lindberg last week full of life! I was so happy to see her. She's due in January.

I've resumed this school year with Seeds of Hope. We had a meeting last friday. It didn't go as I "planned" but it was what it was supposed to be, I guess.

I'll try to keep this blog updated more often.

Breaking Point

2008-05-20T21:41:00.000-07:00

Just a word to the wise. Be mindful that if you plan to start your life in any sort of ministry that you WILL be spiritually attacked.

It can come in many shapes or forms, but be watchful so that you do not be discouraged. I'm hanging by a thread tonight and feeling so confused. But the Word tells us that we are not given a Spirit of confusion, but of sound mind.

It does get discouraging and I start to feel like I want to throw in the towel. But I am watchful. I know that there is nothing more that the Enemy wants than to disable me and keep me from doing what I know I'm supposed to.

But the attacks are hard and they are fast. And they are personal. He knows how to get to me in my soft spot. In my heart. And usually, he plays me against my husband. All it takes is a weakness and BAM! I feel like I'll snap.

But I can't stop. I can't give in. Thank you Lord for giving me this little pep talk. I feel a bit better.

Fruition

2008-05-19T22:38:00.000-07:00

It's so funny to me to re-read my entries.

I used to do it very often with Charlotte's page, but I'm consciously tring to "move on" and keep this blog rolling. I'm glad that I am writing down the things that have happened because some nights, I do need to re-read them. To remind myself that this is really happening and that all of the little things that connect together were not a figment of my imagination.

As I was driving home tonight I suddenly realized that my baby, my daughter, my teenager is helping me serve these teen moms. That somewhere in the middle of what God has called me to do, He has also placed her in the midst of it.

I had just picked up laundry supplies at Walmart and the thought crossed my mind to have a retreat weekend with some of *my* girls. I envisioned being at our timeshare, about 5 of the girls along with me and my daughter, and we were having a "girls weekend Bible retreat". My daughter and I were serving up the meals to the girls and then I snapped into the reality of just driving along. I got all misty eyed because I thought about... "How did I get to this place?" and "She has always been with me..."

If someone would have told me 15 years ago that I would be doing the things that I am doing because of the things that I have done with the people I have done them for, I would've said they were nuts. But here I am. And my baby girl is with me.

Don't get me wrong. We're really struggling right now. She is going thru all of the typical teenage things that I am sure I went thru, I just don't remmeber them being this way. She says I annoy her. She doesn't want to talk to me or look at me. She slams doors and talks back. But I love her. I just never imagined it would be this hard. Ever.

I wonder what she thinks of what I'm doing. I wonder if she understands. Does she want to be a part of it? She has a jealousy toward me like no other. I am trying to be careful to not let her think that these other girls are more to me than she is, because they are not. But I do feel a tremendous responsibility for them. And a buring love for her.

I was thinking the other day about how things have come to fruition. Ever since we moved into this house I wanted to have a Tea Party. I daydreamed about it and about who would come; figuring it would be ladies from our old church, and maybe a few friends. Then I let the idea go for a while but eventually resumed the thoughts, I suppose a couple of months back, when I started working with these moms. I figured it would cost too much $$ for me to rent tables and do the food and other things so I dropped it.

Well, at the end of this month, the Church is having a Tea. I signed up to host a table. Then I realized that I could have my girls come to that!! I'm so excited for them to be a part of it. There will be tea with an assortment of food, a fashion show and a guest speaker. The speaker has a tour called "The Master's Piece" and she is a potter. She does this whole schpiel about God while she makes pottery. I've heard great things about her.

Anyway, I'm really glad that I get the chance to take some of the moms. I'm hoping that they will be introduced to some things that they may not be used to in thier lives. I'm also taking my own daughter. I hope for her that the more she is around these girls, the more solidified her decision will be to wait until marriage to have sex. I also want her to see how difficult things can be, but there are people out there in this big wide world that care for the downcast and broken. I want these teen moms to feel it too.

But that's how things are happening for me. I seem to have a little idea about something, and thru no merrit of my own, it gets worked out. God is so good.

Today was beautiful

2008-05-15T22:54:00.000-07:00

The luncheon was a huge success. ROH gathered over $14K in donations. The speakers were great, the food was delicious and Laura was very, very articulate. I was so impressed with her poise and style.

I think people in our community have gotten a taste for what ROH actually does. Laura shared many stories of help that they have been able to offer, but left out some of the more gruesome details. Like the time she went in for a home visit and found a baby that had maggots crawling out of a wound on his little butt. Stories like these are not just stories. They happen all the time in her line of work. I don't know how she does it. I'm sure many tears have been shed.

But today was a celebration. ROH was honored by the Leadership Development Committee and lots of people were there. There were 3 awards given to a grandmother, mother and child that ROH has worked closely with. It was simply beautiful.

Right before I left for the luncheon, my husband called and said he got a donation of diapers from one of his stores. Like 2 or 3 pallets of diapers. God is so good! Just in time for their Diaper Drive.

Caroline was there today. I haven't seen her since at least December. She moved out of state but still keeps in contact with Laura regularly. It was nice to visit with her. We reminisced about how we came to know each other and my new interest on the StandUp Girl website. I am so relaxed with her. She just "knows".

Tomorrow I have to take my old highchair to one of the girls. For some reason I am totally dragging my feet on this one. I don't know why.... Oh yes I do.

I'm attached to the highchair.

How lame is that? But I am. It has gone through 2 of my last 3 babies. It is in great condition and fully functional. But getting rid of it is like getting rid of the last vestiges of baby-dom. I have no more babies in the house and I don't know if I ever will again. That thought saddens me. So I try not to think that way. But I do need to get the chair to the girl. She does have a baby that is ready for it.

Big Day

2008-05-14T23:22:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is a big day. There is a fundraiser/luncheon for Ray of Hope with a lot of city officials and prominent business people there. I'm so excited for it because it's been a long time coming.

Ray of Hope is a non-profit childrens' services agency that was started by a man and his wife in an effort to help homeless children in our community. The director, Laura, is amazing. They started this program about 8 years ago, after visiting homeless children in a downtown area. All of their mothers were prostitutes and would kick the kids out to the streets at dusk so they could put their motel/apartments to use. Laura and her husband started ministering to these kids by bringing them food out of their car. They made it a recurring trip and befriended many o these little kids.

It soon turned into a much more comprehensive ministry. They solicited various churches and individuals/business people to help them in caring and providing for the basic needs of these children. That'sROH in a nutshell. Eventually, they became a legally recognized non-profit, complete with a Board of Directors and have also been awarded the County's honors for Child Protective Services Agency of the Year on more than one occassion.

I met Laura at my first informational meeting for a program I wanted to start for teen moms. In June 2007 I sent a letter out to 30 various chrches in my town, trying to garner support from the church body to help these young mothers. I briefly described my own experiences in being a teenage mother as well as what it was like to have to make a decision to not have an abortion. Twice.

Once as a teen, and again as a grown woman, happily married with 3 living children.

In the letter I mentioned how I wanted to reach out to these girls and that it is the churches responsiblity as a Body to help them. I was going to host a meeting and asked all those that were interested to come and share in their ideas as to what we can do. I firmly believe that I was given scripture for this ministry, based on the story in John chapter 5. There was a paralytic man at the pool of Bethesda that was waiting for an Angel of the Lord to stir the waters; for whoever was sick and was able to be the first into the waters after the Angel stirred them would be healed.

Upon waiting on the porch, Jesus appeared to the man and asked him if he wanted to be made well. He said yes, but had no one to help him get into the water. Jesus told him to get up and walk. He had been healed. And so he did.

This passage really spoke to my heart because I feel like so many of these girls want to change and get their lives in order, but they have no one to help them. Ultimately, it is Jesus that does all of the work, but it takes a change in them to see the change He made for them. To Him be all the honor and glory.

"The man went away, and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well..." John 5:15

So needless to say, out of the 30 letters that I sent out, only a handful of people came to my meeting and they were all from one church. Except Laura. She was a friend of Caroline. And Caroline, by the way, is the wife of Fred. The man at the abortion clinic.

Now as the Lord would have it, a couple of weeks before I sent out this letter to the churches, I met with the head Pastor of the church where the MOPS meetings are held. MOPS is a mom's group (Mothers of PreSchoolers) that I was intimatley involved with during the tumultuous time with Charlotte. I was also attending a weekly Bible study at this church, so as things progressed with Charlotte, many people were praying for us. And many people knew of the situation.

Going into meeting the head Pastor of the church was initially to discuss budgeting and things like that for our group. But midway through our conversation, I expressed to him how much his congregation had reached out to us and helped us through that time. Then out of no where, I blurted out (yet again!) that perhaps we should start a Teen MOPS program or something of the sort. I was really taken aback at my boldness, because up until that point, I hadn't given this much thought. I had no details to work out because I had no idea where to start. He agreed to discuss it more with me and that was the end of the meeting. I woke up later that night with a heavy burden on my heart to write the Pastor a note thanking him for taking the time to meet with us and I reiterated my sincerity on starting a group of some sort for teen moms.

He responded back within a few hours and put me in contact with Caroline.

I met with her two days later and it was exhilerating! Our conversation was awesome. We talked about Charlotte (she already knew) and I let her in on my own experience in having a child at 17. I told her that I seriously considered abortion but chose to keep the baby. I had no idea that she was married to the man I'd met at the abortion clinic almost 2 years earlier.

She told me that she and her husband (Fred) had been praying for a long while about this type of thing that I was trying to do. She actually said that just 2 years before (or thereabouts), they had considered taking over the pregnancy center or revamping it to target teens, I think. She said that she felt a calling for it, but it just wasn't for them to do just yet, so they "sat on it" as she said, and waited for God to bring the right person to her.
Woah! Tears flooded my eyes. She smiled quietly.

It was so exciting.

I knew...just KNEW... I was right where I was supposed to be.

So we talked a few more times and it was she and 3 other people that came to the meeting. And she invited her dear friend... Laura, the Director of Ray of Hope.

The start of it all...

2008-05-03T23:00:00.000-07:00

While I was pregnant, I had collected the necessary things to bring home baby. I had the high chair, bassinet, clothes, crib. But no baby to bring home.

I had decided that I would offer these things to a teen mom, but didn't know where to find one. I called the local higschools to see if they knew of one or two girls that may need this kind of thing and they directed me to the Adult Education Center. When I contacted them, I was surprised to learn that they had an actual program set up for teen moms to help them get their high school diploma while providing childcare and basic educational needs.

The woman I first had contact with was very nice and patient as I stuttered out that I had some things I'd like to give away. I didn't share the reason why, but I had a huge lump in my throat just the same. She told me that there are several girls there and to just *come on in* and take a look. Again, the doors of my mouth open and out flies a question something to the effect of "Well, do you have a Mentoring program there?" Huh? Did I say that out loud?

So she says "no" and that she would "love to hear any suggestions I might have". Gulp. There's the lump. I promptly hung up the phone and didn't call back for about 3 weeks. Seriously, it scared me. First of all, I don't know where that came from. Secondly, I thought it was too big for me. Here I was, feeling like Jonah. I was telling God I didn't want to go. But He had other plans.

During that time, my neighbor found a backpack in the alley between our houses. My neighbor brought the backpack into my house and left it there, I suppose for me to take care of it. Inside the sack were books and papers that didn't have any clear identifying information on them. The handwriting looked immature and heavy on the lead. I called a couple of the elementary schools to ask if they had a student by the name of **X*** and none of them did! What was I supposed to do now? This thing was a mess.

I kept the bag for a week or two on my kitchen table and finally it occurred to me that this bag belongs to someone that goes to the Adult Education Center. I figured out that the text books are from an ESL student. I felt so smart! Shortly after, I put the bag in my car with every intention to drop it by the center. But the opportunity never came up. Everytime I thought about it, I had the kids with me. And really, who wants to take a bunch of kids in and out of the car just to drop off a backpack? So there it stayed, in my car, for another week or two. Then one day, I was out and about without anyone, I realized it was time to turn it in.

When I drove there and parked, it dawned on me.. Hey! This is the same place with the teen moms! Ok Lord, very funny. An added irony in that is the alley where the backpack was found is sealed off and only the neighborhood kids go back there to play basketball.

Anyway, I turned in the backpack and meandered over to the area for the teen moms. I met with the woman over the phone and shared my heart with her. From there, I decided to volunteer once a week in the classrooms. My goal was just to befriend these girls. To let them know someone does care about them and to show them the love of Jesus.

In the beginning....

2008-05-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

In the Spring of 2006 I found out I was pregnant with our fourth child. Just a day after being told that we were going to have a baby girl (July 31st), I was informed that she would most likely not survive life outside the womb.

It was a terribly difficult time in my life but also a time that I would not want to miss. Like most things I have lived through, I have been able to recognize the hand of God working. I'm so thankful for that because had I not been able to see it, I surely would have given up.

Right before I got pregnant with Charlotte, I had tried once to be a sidewalk counselor at the local abortion clinic. I remember the day well. I had signed up to volunteer at a church a few weeks prior. I spoke with a man there named Fred. I had all 3 of my kids with me and the church was hosting a Ministry Faire. I shot across the quad and made my way to his table. I explained to him that I was interested in helping out because I once faced an unplanned pregnancy. He gave me directions and a time to be there.

When I arrived at the clinic, I was so nervous. Not only did I not know anyone I was "meeting" there, I didn't know what to expect from the people who were going into the clinic. I'd seen TV reports of really hostile situations at abortion clinics before, what if a fight broke out there or something?? All of the signs the Protesters were holding were disgusting. Bloody baby parts laying next to a dime. People shouting to Mothers as they pulled into the parking lots. People praying with Rosaries on the sidewalks. It was crazy.

I understand why the Protesters use the tactics they do. They have all of about 15 seconds to grab the attention of the patients going into the clinic, hoping to make an impact. Hoping to stop the killing of innocent babies. Hoping to change the minds of the moms. But I wonder if they really understand the reasons why Mothers are going in there in the first place. They feel like there is no hope. No other way of dealing with this "problem". Many of them haven't thought of the life growing inside of them in terms of it being a baby. Showing a tiny foot the size of a pencil eraser with it's leg missing is one way to illustrate loudly that there is a life growing within.

One of the things that bothered me the most about it were some of the responses that were given by the people going in. I heard things like "I prayed about it and God has already forgiven me" or the 'ol stand by of flipping us off as we plead with them to turn back.

There were two sets of people that impacted me that day. One was a young man taking a young woman in. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and she an older teen. He held the door open for her as they went in together. Others around me were shouting "Murderer!" and "You don't have to do this..." and ""Your killing a baby!". I stood there stunned that he even opened the door for her. I know that 's a stupid thing to get fixated on, but I thought to myself, how can he be such a gentleman as he ushers her into the killing zone?

He came out to have a cigarette about 20 minutes later and got in a yelling match with Fred. We were separated by a wrought iron fence and a low hedge. Honestly, I was a little scared. My adrenaline was pumped because I wanted to go in and rip that girl off of the table, but couldn't. When the men quieted down, I walked as close as I could get to the man smoking and begged him to take her home. I didn't have a clue what their situation was and I didn't care. I just knew they were about to kill a baby. I started telling him that Joseph must have been terrified too. That his girlfriend (Mary) was about to have a baby that wasn't his and that he had been chosen to care for that child. This guy could do it too! He just needed to get up and take her home. I don't know where those words came from. They flew out of my mouth without a second thought. I truly felt desparate. He was much nicer in speaking with me, well, actually he just listened, didn't say much back. He finished his cigarette and went inside. About an hour or two later, they walked out together, holding hands. She had a newspaper or towel or something covering her face.

Shortly after that, a woman drove into the parking lot in a big SUV. She and a younger woman got out and headed in. I found my voice to say "You don't have to go in there! We can help you." The older woman flipped us off and proceeded in.

When the older woman came out (leaving the younger one behind) I walked in stride with her to her car. We were still separated by the fence and in a moment... by the slamming of her car door. So I waited. It must have gotten hot in there because she rolled her window down. She lit a cigarette and puffed away with a very agitated look on her face. I tried to talk to her but she was already defensive. I asked her why she would take someone into a building to go kill their baby. She said they had no choice. That her daughter (the younger woman) already had a few kids and the doctors told her that this one could cause serious health issues for her and probably wouldn't live anyway. That they HAD to terminate the pregnancy. She said I had no idea how hard this is... what do I know? I tried to tell her that God has everything undercontrol. That they didn't have to do this. I told her that I have a blood incompatibility issue and doctors tell me it could be serious with each pregnancy, but please, don't kill that baby. She got really pissed a couple of times and rolled the window back up. But when the heat of the car got to be too much, I was still there waiting. Eventually, she got back out of the car and waited inside. I really don't remember what else we said to each other. But I clearly remember what the feeling was that I had. I was defeated and my hands were tied.

All of the girls going inside were not outwardly pregnant looking. Except this one. She had a round belly that was only accentuated by the loose sweat pants and T-shirt she was wearing. The sunshine of that morning lit up her auburn colored hair like fire.

And again, an hour or so passed and they came out. The younger woman looking down. The older hurrying her along.

It is almost errily quite when someone walks out of the clinic. Most eyes do not meet. No Protesters shouting. No howling prayers. Just the rumble of a car's engine racing to leave the parking lot to get outta there like it's evil.

At one point I got up the courage to cross the line and go inside the clinic to see for myself what it looked like. I had been warned that I would probably get yelled at to get out of there, but since it was my first time, no one would recognize me as a Protester and to be careful.

I was so saddened to see the room. There were rows and rows of really uncomfortable looking waiting room chairs. Cold metal frames and vinyl seats. There was a reception counter with 2 or 3 ladies working away, answering phones. They chatted about their microwaveable lunches and plans for the weekend. They seemed so normal. Didn't they know what was going on in the room behind them? Blood was being shed. They didn't care. They had a smile too big on their face when I walked in. Didn't they know babies were dying?

I was so nervous. I asked for a *price sheet*, hoping that somehow them hearing me phrase like that would jerk them into the reality of what's goin on. But it didn't. One of the women passed me a business card and discreetly wrote on the back of it. It was disgusting. (The *Gen* is for General Anesthesia). It costs less than $500 to kill a baby. So after a few hours it was all over. I guess that most of the appointments are done in the morning. It was about 1pm or so when I left.

As soon as I got in the car and headed towards the freeway, I burst into tears. What the heck did I just see? It took me the 20 minute drive home to compose myself. I just cried and cried.

When I got home, I felt so alive! I hugged and kissed my kids. I felt so much love for them. That night I emailed my dad and sister the report of my day. I felt as if I was telling them the accounts of a foreign war and I was on the firing lines. It was gut wrenching.

Needless to say, it left a mark on me. I wanted to make a committment to going back but it was difficult. I couldn't arrange for babysitters and shortly after, I found out I was expecting. I didn't think I could handle being there while I was pregnant, so I have yet to return.