Chocolate Milk Dances and Twister

We’re in the middle of a talk series with our youth on Wednesday nights about the armor of God, and last night I got to talk to them about the shoes fitted with the Gospel of peace. While I was getting ready for the talk before we left for church, the house broke into chaos. Things had been going rather well up to that point – in fact I’d say it was the best day we had all had together in a while. But I’ve discovered that children – especially two year olds – are like blood hounds and can sniff out the moments their mommas need just an ounce of cooperation and peace. Then, for some reason, they feel the need to pounce on it and rough it up a little bit. Why is that, by the way?

So – of course – as I was getting ready for my talk and going over my notes one last time, the boys (who, mind you, had been sweet angels all day) started in with antics that made me want to throw my little shoes of peace right at the wall. So instead of showing up for youth all composed and prepared, I walked in with my mind in a very un-peaceful state. I was armed with some really fresh examples of the enemies of our peace, though.

About a year and a half ago I went through a tough spell being a mommy. My kids were one and three and a half, and we had just moved to TN from NC for my husband to start a new career. It was, to say the least, stressful. I certainly wasn’t enjoying my kids at the time, and I really wanted to be. So I started a “joy journal” that still sits on the nightstand beside my bed. Every night for a month or so I made myself write down at least one thing that each kid said or did that day that brought me joy. I wish I had kept it up, because I have a lot of precious memories written in there that I might have completely overlooked otherwise.

I thought today would be a good day to “joy journal” in my post. You guys have heard me complain about my boys a lot lately, and I feel the need to share some of their good side with you. For the purposes of today’s post I think I’ll call the two and a half year old Happy Feet (we call him that at home because he likes to dance when he’s happy), and the five year old Tender Heart (although he would much rather I call him Megatron, and his father – I’m sure – would protest about Tender Heart sounding girly, but I’m pretty sure Tender Heart Bear on the CareBears was a boy, so I’m good).

So here it is – things my boys have done lately that bring me joy:

• Last night Happy Feet, after listening to his big brother review AWANA Cubby verses for church, felt the need to clarify a few things. “’Piderman didn’t sent his son. No, ‘Piderman spins his web. God sent His son…”
• Tender Heart was playing a game in the hall the other day when he ran past the room I was in. He suddenly turned back and ran in just long enough to kiss me on the hand. I needed that.
• Both boys were playing some sort of tag yesterday while I was changing sheets on the bed, and the next thing I new they ran in my room completely naked. I don’t know what possessed them to do it, but it was funny and we all laughed.
• Happy Feet and I spent about five minutes at nap time yesterday playing the kissing game – where he tells me where on his face (or arm, apparently) to kiss him and I try to do it without tickling him too much. When I told him, “When I dreamed about being a mommy, this is what I always thought it would be like,” he reached up and kissed me on the lips like he totally understood what I had just said.
• Tender Heart – ok, it’s bothering me now, too….Megatron opened and closed the basement door yesterday to make the alarm go off because I had fallen asleep after playing the kissing game and he needed to wake me up so we could play. We then spent over an hour together downstairs playing soldiers and Twister (which, by the way, was hilarious to watch).
• Happy Feet laid in my lap for about 30 minutes (which if you know him is an absolute eternity) watching Lion King yesterday.
• Megatron told me about a dream he had the other night in which Jesus was on the cross and said “Father, Father, Father” and then He died. I was afraid it had been scary, but he said that it was a good dream and it made him happy. The thing that brought me the most joy is that we haven’t even been talking about that lately, so it was just on his mind.
• Happy Feet did the “chocolate milk dance” for me yesterday, and I didn’t even ask him to (ok, we’re horrible parents…we make our kid dance for his chocolate milk just because we know we can…he has to sing the song too…)
• Both boys were shrieking (in a good way) and hugging each other in the bathtub the other day, pretending to be scared of the shower sprayer I was warming up to use on them. They were so silly and cute making all that noise and laughing together. I wish I had gotten the camera to take a picture!

I could probably think of more at the risk of boring you, but I'll stop there. Thanks for letting me share, I just needed to take a moment and remember some of the things I love the most about my boys. In a few minutes I’m going to go wake them up and start a whole new day full of opportunities for joy and frustration, and I felt like I owed it to them to have my sights set on joy this morning. Wish us luck, and pray that I keep those shoes of peace on my feet!

6 Quirky Things

Hey everyone! Marybeth Whalen, a blogging friend of mine (well, ok, one of the Proverbs 31 women who has never met me but I virtually "cyber-stalk" by reading her blog every day), posted an email challenge from a friend to reveal six quirky things about herself. She asked 6 more people reading her blog to post their quirky list, so I thought I'd play along. If you didn't have solid confirmation before today that I'm incredibly weird, please let all doubt be erased starting now:

I can’t stand for anyone or anything to touch my throat

I grew up in Florida, but I can’t drink orange juice for breakfast – it makes me sick every time

I used to be a musician and so I can’t stand to hear 2 songs play at the same time or to hear something that’s out of tune

I might share other drinks with people, but not water – I can’t stand to share water

I like the smell of my two year old’s feet and old Toyota air conditioners (that last one’s a childhood thing…)

I have a really hard time with repetition (sounds, words, questions from my children…) and interruption - they both drive me insane! (It’s a wonder the Lord lets me be a parent…)

Anyway, there you have it. I know most of you reading this don't have blogs, but post a comment below and leave at least one quirky thing about yourself (go ahead...make it a good one!). I'll be back again soon.

Surrounded by a Whisper

Our five year old has some bad speech habits we’re trying hard to break. One is that he says “for” instead of “when” (“For we get done eating, can I go downstairs and play?”). Another is that he says “I can’t know” instead of “I don’t know”. Sometimes it gets frustrating for both of us when I try to correct him.

“For you get done with that-“
“When I get done with this…?”
“WHEN…For…you get done…”

But I realized this morning that when it comes to God, maybe my little guy is more on target than I am with “I can’t know”.

My heart was captured this week by a verse in Job that blows my mind. When you stop and think about it, the amazing touch of our God is evident all around us. His creation shouts of His glory, and His miracles happen every day. There’s so much to see of Him that we can’t even begin to take it all in – we simply “can’t know” all there is to know of Him on this earth. And yet Job has this to say about it all: “And these are but the outer fringe of His works; how faint the whisper we hear of Him!” (Job 26:14)

Even if we could comprehend His presence around us, it would just be a faint whisper of His reality. Isn’t that amazing? There have been times when I have felt completely overwhelmed by the obvious hand of God in my life. When I think back to those times, it’s hard to believe that what I knew of Him in that moment was only a touch of what I’ll one day get to see in full.

My husband and I recently bought a surround sound system for our basement. We are so not the “gotta have the next big thing” kind of people, but trust me – this isn’t anywhere near the next big thing. It’s a $40 Wal-Mart deal that would make real surround sound owners probably say something like, “Oh look dear, isn’t that cute? They think they’ve arrived.” But on our little budget and in our meager no-cable, four-fuzzy-antenna-channel-havin’ lives, that little system is a big deal.

I have to admit, movie watching is a whole new experience now that we can hear every little cricket that hiccups on the screen. It’s so “real” feeling that we nearly had to buy a new cushion for the couch the other night when someone off camera knocked on a door and I thought for sure something huge was outside our house trying to get in (why I thought that when we were in the basement who knows, but it seemed logical in the split second it took me to lose my mind).

As real sounding as that little speaker system might seem, though, it’s still just a movie. The sounds we hear can’t hold a candle to what our ears would experience if we were in a real gun battle (heaven forbid), or standing in a real rain forest. Thanks to Job I’ve realized that even though we get to see and hear God in “surround sound” every day (at least when we take the time to notice, that is), we still aren’t experiencing the full effect of being in His presence. What we see of Him is definitely real and authentic, it’s just not all there is to the story – the volume isn’t anywhere close to being up all the way.

I’m about to go get my kids dressed and step out into the world this morning, where God’s speakers are carefully hung at all the right levels and precisely pointed in our direction so we can hear all He has to say to us. I wonder if I’ll notice Him in all the little corners of my life today? I wonder if today will be one of those days where I’m overwhelmed by His presence. If it is, I hope I remember that all I’m hearing is just a faint whisper of the glorious things to come.

May you be blessed by your “surroundings” today, because He’s in every one of them.

Check it out!

I just wanted to share with you all that I had a devotional published this morning on the Next Generation site (Next Generation is a part of Proverbs 31 ministries that reaches out to middle school and high school youth). If you're interested in checking it out, you can read it by clicking here.

Thanks for letting me share!


Samantha

He's Savin' the Drama for His Mama

This morning I helped my husband and some of the youth run the children’s service during worship. After some wild games and singing, Shane gave a short message about “being a part of the team”. He emphasized that as Christians we all play a big, specific part in the body of Christ. While he was explaining that God has a role for all of us in our church, a friend’s 7 year old leaned over and announced to me very confidently, “He [God] wants me to be the feet, ‘cause I like to kick.” Made sense to me!

Well, if he gets to be the feet because he likes to kick, then I guess I get to be the mouth this week because I apparently like to yell…a lot. I’m just not so sure that Christ’s mouth would be yelling some of the things I’ve yelled lately… It all leads me to wonder: is there such a thing as righteous anger when it comes to your kids? When dealing with teenagers and tweenagers, I’m sure that there is. But what about preschoolers? Can you be righteously indignant with them, or is that just called “aggravation”?

I’ve come to the conclusion that because I’ve always wanted a girl and I’m truly desiring the rapture to happen before my boys get to be teenagers, that God has hastened both experiences for me by wrapping up the heart of a particularly moody preteen girl and sticking her right in the body of my five year old son. Honestly, I’ve never experienced so much drama in my entire life! When did my sweet boy-of-all-boys start caring so much about what shirt he wears that he actually cries over my choices? When did “You hurt my feelings” or “You just broke my little heart” become the most commonly heard phrase in my house? We both wound up in tears this morning before we ever got dressed for church. It’s getting to be ridiculous! And don’t get me started on where little brother fits into it all…he’s a Drama King in training for sure! This morning he told me he needed a hug because his teeth were sick. What in the world?

But one good thing has come out of it all. I’ve come up with an idea for the ultimate addition to any mother’s minivan – one of those plexiglass divider windows they have in limousines. Doesn’t that sound like heaven? Forget MP3 players you can start with a voice command. Keep your heated seats and valet starters. You want to give me something that will absolutely make me buy your vehicle and want to live in it? Put in that divider! And make it one of those power window kinds, too, so that I can roll it down when we’re all happy and loving each other, or at least when they’re asleep. No more listening to fights over toys! No more “Are we there yet”s or “But mom!”s! You could block out the whining with the touch of a button! Ahhh…I’ve been dreaming about it all week. A couple of times I’ve even mentally rolled it up and basked in the imaginary silence.

Anyway, I’m sorry to vent, but that’s what’s on my heart today and I owed you all a post. Thanks for your sympathetic nods and understanding sighs…it’s like I can feel them when you read. And for the one person who’s out there reading this blog thinking I’m the worst mother ever for thinking the things that I do, you’re welcome to borrow my children for a couple of days to try them on for yourself. You can even borrow my van – I’m sure you’ll have that plexiglass installed before you bring it back.

I’m off now to go be His fingers typing up words for the girls in our church and His arms wrapping around those frustrating little blessings I get to call my own. I really do love them, you know. And by His grace I’ll get better at being His heart to them as we grow together. Wish me luck on picking out shirts for preschool this week…

Mediocre Hair Days

I’ve come to a conclusion. Not every day can be cleanly labeled as a “good hair day” or a “bad hair day”. No, life just isn’t that convenient sometimes. I’ve discovered the existence of a much more sinister hair behavior: The mediocre hair day.

The mediocre hair day is the black ice of all hair days. It’s just as dangerous as the bad hair day (perhaps even a touch more), but it can be tricky to spot and many never see it coming until it spins their world across the pavement. Talking about it is a little like admitting you have dandruff – what might not have been obvious to others before is now embarrassingly out in the open.

At least with the bad hair day, other women notice it a mile off and extend you a modicum of grace when things go awry with the business of your life. It’s like being at the grocery store and holding up the check out line because your kid is throwing a temper tantrum over the M&Ms you made him put back. You can’t let go of him long enough to even swipe your card and you start to worry that others behind you are growing impatient with how long it’s all taking. The truth is, the mother who’s next in line is thinking, I got you, Sister – been there, done that, and the older woman behind her is shaking her head and saying (out loud, mind you), “Bless her” (or “Love her heart” if you happen to be shopping in East Tennessee).

With the mediocre hair day, though, it’s like you’re standing in that same line, only it’s filled with single, childless women who just want to pay for their three over-priced health food items so they can make it to Starbucks for a skinny latte, no whip, extra whatever-they-put-in-it before the gym fills up with all the slackers who made New Years resolutions and are going to quit in a month or so anyway (insert the rolling of said women’s eyes). There’s simply no sympathy from some when you’re having a “just-ok” hair day.

At this point are you wondering what struck me with such revelation that I’m prattling on about this so much this morning? Yesterday I was on my way out the door to pick up two of my friends from the middle school youth at our church (no school means movies and cupcakes!), when I stopped by the mirror for a quick look. There it was: not so much what you would call bad hair, but definitely not good hair. It was just there. Limp, plain, and a little out of place. I decided to put it in partial time-out (a.k.a. a ponytail – full time-out calls for a hat), but not before I realized the metaphor that could be drawn between the state of my ‘do and the state of my life.

Yesterday I was feeling like my whole life was having a mediocre hair day. My writing: mediocre. My parenting skills: dangerously approaching horrible, but still in the realm of mediocre. My house: a mediocre state of clean. Dinner: egg salad sandwiches and a makeshift salad – not exactly “excellence”. Teaching Sunday school, ministering to kids, loving my husband, equipping my oldest kid for life, managing my money: all mediocre. Even my Scrabble game last night was a sad state of just alright. For my second word I really wanted to spell “loser” but I didn’t have the “r”. “Lose” was ok, but “loser” was definitely more appropriate.

But it occurred to me this morning as I was bracing myself for another “just ok” day, that God never see us as mediocre. He never sits up there in Heaven looking down on us, His beloved creation, thinking, “Hmmm, she’s nice, but she could be better.” The truth is that we all could be better to Him and for Him, but in His grace and mercy He chooses to see us as cherished and blameless. I will never understand how He can look at this tangled mess of my life with all its mats and cowlicks and call me perfect just the way I am. There is truly something amazing about what happened when Jesus died on the cross and exchanged our tattered image for His perfection. How blessed we are to be able to stand on the Son’s merit in the presence of our Father!

I know God’s not oblivious to my faults and shortcomings (He wouldn’t be much of an Almighty if He was), but I also know that because of Christ’s death He is more gracious with me than I am with myself. He knows I’m not perfect, but He loves me like I am. It’s true that my best efforts will never be anything more than mediocre in the presence of His holiness, but that’s why He doesn’t ask me to do any of it on my own. If I allow Him to work through me and rely on His strength to do all those things I’d fail on my own, nothing I ever do for His name and glory will ever be mediocre in His eyes.

If I’d just get my eyes off myself and back on Him, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much how my hair looks. Maybe I could defeat this driving force of women everywhere and shock the world by having a fabulous day despite the horrible, stubborn antics of the strands upon my head. If I can master that, I’ll circumvent the stealthy tactics of this newly-discovered mediocre hair day. It’s a lofty goal, I realize, but in Christ I can do all things, right?

Well, I’ll be working on this one, for sure. Right now I have to go dry my hair and see what kind of day the women in this town are going to be thinking I’m having. In my heart, though, I’m going to try hard to have an awesome day, no matter what happens in the mirror, because I know that God doesn’t think I’m just “mediocre”.

Praise God who sent His Son to die on our behalf, that we might stand as blameless before Him.

What's Different?

Do your kids ever do this? My five year old has started a new thing where he'll say "Uh-oh, Mama..." and then hold up something with no indication whatsoever about what the "uh-oh" is referring to. Once recently it was his Megatron Transformer. Who in the world knows what that's supposed to look like in the first place to see what's different to make it an "uh-oh"? The other day it was his hand. He just held it there in front of my face forever. I kept asking, "What, Buddy? What's wrong with it?" And he just kept raising his eye brows and trusting it towards me like, Helloooo...can't you see that right there? It's obviously not right! I finally drug it out of him that he had set his hand down in a puddle of water and it was wet. Seriously. Water. That is so not an "uh-oh" in my book.

Anyway, some of you "regular" readers (thank you, by the way!) might have noticed that my post from Thursday was a little different. I posted an article for a contest Proverbs 31 was having. I only had a day or so to put it together, and I must say it didn't feel like my best, but I wanted to meet the challenge of getting it posted before the deadline. Over 100 women entered the contest, and they wound up picking 3 winners and 3 honorable mentions (I wasn't in either category, by the way). You can read some of them if you click here and go to Lysa TerKeurst's blog and looking under the post "Oh My Stars". There were some great articles submitted, most of which were more of a devotional style and less "technical" than mine. I think you would enjoy them!

So, I'm sure I'll be back with some normal rambling post tomorrow. I just wanted you to know why that last one was different. I didn't want you to sit there looking at it and wondering like I've been staring at things like Megatron and my son's hand lately. Honestly, it's like on of those pictures in the children's magazines that says "What's Different" at the top, and the only difference is a subtle little dot in the corner or something. I think he and I are going to be working on using our words to communicate this week....

See you back here tomorrow or so.

Meeting God in the Whispers

Do you ever feel like one of those toy cars that drive furiously until they hit something, only to bounce back and head off in another direction? I know I do. From the moment my feet hit the ground in the morning, it just seems like I’m going, going, gone all day. There’s so much to do! That old adage “A woman’s work is never done” couldn’t be more true. With a husband to love, kids to raise, a home to manage and bargains to hunt, it’s a rare night that my head hits the pillow without a racing thought of something left undone. Sound familiar at all?

You know what, though? I don’t think God is impressed with our busyness. In fact, I’d venture to guess that He can probably get pretty frustrated with it. Do you know how hard it must be to get our attention sometimes? Every day He whispers little truths into our hearts: I love you. I miss you. I’m here...but the noise of our rushing about makes it nearly impossible to hear His voice sometimes. Our God may speak in whispers, but it’s not because He doesn’t want to be heard. He whispers because He wants to make sure we’re paying attention. Are we?

The Father calls us to be still and know that He is God (Psalm 46:10). That sounds like a great idea, but as mothers and wives how do we do that? How do we slow down when life is happening every moment of the day? How do we take a break when we seem to be the central hub that makes our homes function? After all, who would make dinner, do the laundry, pack the lunches, clean the bathrooms, pay the bills and kiss all the boo-boos if we all decided to just “be still” for a while?

The truth is, life can handle us taking a time out every now and then. Contrary to popular belief, our families can actually survive without us for a day. But we can’t survive without deep, intimate communication with the Lord of our hearts. We have to find time to accept His invitation to be still and listen to His whispering voice.

One way we can do this is by the practice of solitude. I know that just sounds like a fancy way of saying “having a quiet time”, but the solitude I’m talking about is a little more involved. This solitude requires getting away from home and taking at least a 24-hour vow of silence. No conversations with anyone but Jesus. It’s also a kind of fasting from all the normal “noise” of your life. No telephones, cell phones, emails or computers. No iPods, CD players, or radios. And no books – not even Christian ones. Just you, your Bible, a journal, and Jesus. Sound easy? It’s not – but it is worth it.

You should try it sometime. Find a cabin, hotel room or a retreat center – somewhere you can go that’s safe and quiet. Feel free to take a girlfriend with you to share in the experience, but have separate bedrooms to give each other space. Also, make sure to communicate clearly when the silence will begin, when it will end, and how you will do things like take meals together during the time you can’t talk. Plan to arrive a little earlier than the time you want to start your silence so you can get familiar with where you are and be certain you have everything you need.

Enter into your time of silence with a little understanding and a whole lot of grace. It’s hard to jump out of life and expect to be still right away. Your thoughts might struggle to stay focused on the Lord, but He is patient. Pray for peace of mind and trust that it will come in time.

You might also find that once it’s quiet and you have no agenda, all you want to do is sleep! It is perfectly ok to nap during your time with the Lord. His word says “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”(NIV Matthew 11:28), not “Come to me, and if you’re tired I’ll force you to stay awake and talk to me.” Sometimes the Lord wants to communicate His heart to us by giving us space to rest. Snuggle up in His lap and enjoy this sweet gift!

In the time that you are awake and your mind is finally done remembering all the things you forgot to do before you left, try really hard not to fill up space with rambling prayers or reading the Bible cover to cover. This is your time to be still and listen. Yes, by all means pray, but try your best to listen twice as much as you talk. Take a walk, if you can, and let Him speak to you through His creation. Write in your journal and let Him guide your thoughts and answer your questions. Read Scripture, but try hard to limit yourself to just a small section of it. All Scripture is indeed good, but He might have a specific word for you that He wants you to sit in for a while.

It may not seem like much is happening at first, but by the end of your 24 hours you will have experienced a rich, intimate time with the Lord that will speak volumes to your heart. Jesus longs to spend quality time like this with us. He desires to speak blessing, healing and peace into our hearts, but sometimes we have to purposely slow down to hear it.

I challenge you to make time soon to stop and be still. Be intentional for just one day about knowing that He is God in your life. Leave the noise and busyness behind, and tune your ears to the gentle whispers in your heart. He is waiting right now to meet you there.

Mommy Guilt

Something in my son snapped yesterday. I’m not sure yet what it was or where it came from, but it grabbed my attention by the scruff of the neck and won’t let go of it. And, of course, the biggest part of it happened in public. Isn’t awesome how kids work?

Had it been a scene in a movie about a kid who had taken more of his crummy mother’s abuse than any human ever should have to endure, we would have all stood up and cheered his resolve and defiance. But it wasn’t a movie about that, and I (as far as I know, anyway) am not a crummy, abusive mother. Everyone who was shopping at Food City yesterday thinks I am, though.

There’s just something about a five year old screaming “Let go of me! Don’t touch me like that again!” that makes people’s heads swing around. I’m glad that it does – sometimes kids are really in trouble and need someone to take notice. But I had only taken him by the arm and led him back to the cart so I could talk to him one more time about listening to me and not running off. And did I mention that the second through fourth times he screamed this I wasn’t even touching him? Nice. But it gets better.

Somehow in the middle of all of this, little brother lost his shoe. He didn’t want to get back in the cart to put it on, though, so he fought me and wound up hitting his back on the grocery cart because he was trying to stand up while I was putting his feet through the holes. Tired, cranky, and extremely upset at being relegated to the top part of the cart instead of the cool truck at the bottom that he couldn’t seem to stay in, he – of course – started wailing. This would be the point at which Wonder Brother stepped in and again started with the screaming, this time demanding, “Don’t touch him! You did it again! Don’t you ever hurt him like that again!” Great. Did I hear someone calling the cops? Where’ the pineapple? I just need pineapple and we can leave…

Rest assured, we had a fabulous talk when we got home about how there are really bad mommies in this world who want to hurt their little boys on purpose and how I’m not one of those bad mommies but when you scream things like that in the grocery store people think I’m a bad mommy and think they need to help you by calling the police and how the police can take real bad mommies to jail and so we need to be careful about what we say but if I’m ever really, really being a bad mommy and you do need help, then, by all means, scream as loud as you can. I’m sure it wasn’t confusing at all. We were friends again for about 90 seconds until I told him it was time to take a nap. Apparently, I am abusive (naps, after all, are so cruel).

There seems to be no shortage of sources in life to tell me how I am failing miserably at raising my child. “You let him do too much of this” one source might claim, or “He doesn’t do enough of that”, I’ll hear from another on TV. “The child in this situation might never learn to relate to people on a normal level” the literature reads. “Hurry and fix this, or your five year old will never be valedictorian in high school” (ok, I generalized that last one). All of them are well-intentioned suggestions, of course, but all I seem to hear is “Wow, you are a wonderfully horrible mom. Seriously, did you think you were helping your child to grow up and be successful? How can you ever expect him to be normal if this is the way you’re teaching him to live?” I know I’ve always been hard on myself, but I can be hardest in this area. The way I said it to the Lord this morning in my prayer time was that I can handle being a loser on my own, but not when it affects my children.

It all got to me big time this morning, and I spent my prayer time in tears (until my husband called to see if he left the tax check on the counter…he did, by the way, and I’ll take care of it today. There – do you feel as interrupted as I did? That’s why you should never answer the phone during your quiet time – I could have very easily gotten all of that off the answering machine…but I digress). I journaled and cried, and prayed and blew my nose, and fought the sick knot in my stomach that reminded me there’s no way to go back in time and do it over, only right this time.

And then His truth started playing in my head: I AM bigger than you. You aren’t the only one responsible for these children, because I AM. All is not lost because I AM. No matter how many times you mess up, they will be ok. I AM, remember? I AM.

What a gift our Father’s grace is. What an amazing blessing His mercy can be every day if we let it. There’s never been a perfect parent aside from Him, and He was Father to our children before the world even knew they existed. Yes, we still have to be responsible parents, but isn’t it a relief that the one who gave us this job extends to us more grace than we ever give ourselves sometimes?

There are still some things I want to change in my sons’ lives. I’d love for them to eat better, watch less and play a little more outside. But I think the best thing I can do is get them well acquainted with their heavenly Father who will never steer them wrong. I praise Him for His mercy and grace this morning. And I am so thankful that He is the great I AM, because I am certainly not even close to being anything. Thank you, Papa.

Is It My Happy Birthday Yet?

As we walked past the card section in Target (I wasn’t kidding when I told them I practically live there), my two year old very happily pointed at some cards and declared, “That’s my happy birthday!” I tried my best to join in his excitement as I stretched my head down the ends of isles to find the paper plates. “Yes, you have a birthday, but your happy birthday isn’t for another 6 months.” I should have left it alone. “I wanna open my presents!” he said. Oh boy. That one took some creative distraction to disarm.

That experience yesterday actually helped me see God’s point of view in my own life this morning, though. I was laying in bed wide-awake way too early when the temptation to try and name my unborn (and not-yet-conceived – nice try ladies who still ask me every-other week if I’m pregnant) children. I don’t think this is a very healthy game for me, because the struggle in my heart to yield to the Lord’s will in this category is all too real. Part of me wants just one more kid, but His answer seems to be (at least for now) a resounding “No”.

So I moved on from naming my children to thinking about the teleseminar I took last night about writing book proposals. It was very informative – I got to hear from 8 pretty major editors, publishers and agents about what makes or breaks a proposal in their opinion. I really enjoyed it, but I do have to say it was a little disheartening at points. How are you supposed to get a platform (expertise, or a reason for people to think you’re an authority on your subject) if you don’t have one?

Then, of course, my mind drifted to thinking about what books I could possibly write. I started listing all the “perfect” titles I’ve hoarded in the back of my mind, and couldn’t think of a single one a publisher would print if it was written by me (instead of someone with a “platform”). Then it occurred to me: Wasn’t I, as a writer, naming my unborn (and some yet-to-be-conceived) children? I had to stop.

My mind turned to a verse I have posted next to my computer screen where I can see it every day when I sit down to write: “For the revelation awaits an appointed time; It speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; It will certainly come and will not delay” (Habakkuk 2:3). I looked it up (yes, by the way, I had to cheat to find Habakkuk in the Bible), and found something interesting about the phrase “appointed time”.

The Hebrew behind that phrase is the word “moed”. It means “Congregation, festive gathering, appointment. Often it designates a predetermined time or place…” The word study then goes on to say that moed became closely associated with seasonal Jewish festivals and the tabernacle where God would meet the Israelites at specific times to reveal His will to them.

Immediately I thought about my conversation with the little guy yesterday. Just like he has to wait for his birthday and no amount of wishing or manipulating can make that day come any faster, God has an appointed time already on the calendar to reveal to me what He wants me to write. I admit – it would be nice to know when that date is, but that’s really not that important. What is important is that I wait for that appointed time, and that I then listen to Him and “Write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it” (Habakkuk 2:2).

We aren’t all waiting for a revelation that we can write about, but I’d wager a guess that almost all of us are waiting for something from the Lord. As frustrating as it can be – like a two year old not understanding that he has to wait for his happy birthday – it’s also comforting to know that He’s already got it all planned out. He won’t be a minute late in delivering to us what we’re waiting for. And in the mean time, He’ll be preparing us to receive that revelation. Our God is good, faithful and wise. I’m thankful for that this morning.

Happy waiting!

The Weight of the World

I woke up with a words from a song we sang at church Sunday stuck in my head. “I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on. There will be an end to those struggles, but until that day comes – still I will praise you, still I will praise you.” For some reason, those words are life to me when I sing them.

Certain refrains from certain songs bring a smile to my face every time I sing them. The verses from “How Great Thou Art” about Jesus coming back for us would be one example, and the lines I just mentioned from “You Never Let Go” by Matt Redman are obviously another one. They just capture me and make me remember – even if only for a moment – that God is bigger than all this crazy stuff we deal with every day, and one day He’s going to bring a blessed end to it all and take us home to be with Him forever.

I learned something in a quiet time last week that really helps me put words to the emotions in my life that make me love that Matt Redman song so much. I was reading in John 16 when I decided to take a closer look at verse 33: “I tell you these things so, in me you may have peace. In this world you will face many troubles. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

If you know me, you probably know that I love to analyze things and dig deeper into the meaning of the words used in Scripture (I also try to dig deeper into the words used in my marriage sometimes – it doesn’t quite have the same effect…). I found a little gem in that word “trouble”. The original Greek used there is thlipsis – which means “Tribulation, trouble, affliction.” Then the definition goes on to say: “Thlipsis (which is very fun to try and pronounce, by the way) conveys the picture of something being crushed, pressed, or squeezed as from a great weight.” Isn’t that a great picture of how it feels to deal with life sometimes?

I don’t know about you, but I definitely at least think I feel crushed, pressed and squeezed quite a bit every now and then. The bills are stacking up and there’s no way we can pay them all [crush]. I have a million things I want to be doing, but a million and one that beg for my attention right now [press]. My kids are once again getting on the last thread of a nerve I have left and I’m at a loss as to how to deal with it [squeeze]. Some days it just doesn’t seem to let up, and then others I can see that light coming that Matt sings about. My heart just has to hold on – wait a minute! Isn’t that what Jesus said too? “Take heart! I have overcome the world.”

I look forward to the day when we no longer feel the weight and pressure of the troubles of this world. I long for the moment when the struggles will finally come to an end. But until that day comes, I will praise Him – even when the world’s grip seems to grow tighter and tighter. I’m thankful today that our God – my God – is bigger than anything I could ever face in this life, and that He never, ever, lets go of me.

If you'd like to hear Matt Redman's song "You Never Let Go", you can listen to it for free on Rhapsody. Just click here.

Dear Target

OK, after all the weird, unexpected stuff that happened over the holidays from the sickness to wrecking the car (which, by the way, my husband informs me only spun once, and actually hit the other sign on that stretch of road that says "School Bus Stop Ahead"), the thing that really brought be down the other day was finding out that our local Target closed their private family-friendly bathroom to the public. That was one of the most endearing features of Target stores to me! I love that bathroom - I love the privacy and not having to haul my kids into the chaos of a shared restroom. But it's all gone now. So what does a writer do when she finds her toes stepped upon? She writes a letter! Here's the "eye" full (I don't suppose it can be an "ear" full if you don't say it outloud) Target got from me this week:

To Whom It May Concern:

I love Target. I’m there so often I wonder sometimes if I should have my own personal message center for friends and family to communicate with me, just in case my cell phone battery dies. My favorite thing about Targets nation-wide (in addition to the fabulous clearance, of course, that makes year-round Christmas shopping for 13 nieces and nephews and two sons even possible on our little family budget), is that little family-friendly bathroom tucked away beside the pharmacy in newer stores and often near the dressing rooms in some older ones.

Hooray! Finally a store that gets it! No more need for a mass family exodus from the shopping area when the five year old has to go! Mom can safely and confidently send her young one into the single-person bathroom while little brother sits safely and cleanly in the cart, and she stands in the doorway to offer instruction. In the rare instance that (Heaven forbid) Mom herself is the one with the urge, the entire family can nicely fit in there all together. Meanwhile the buggy is parked right outside in a nice “Please-don’t-touch-this-I’m-just-on-the-other-side-of-the-door” kind of way, keeping other bargain hunters on the honor system regarding that aforementioned fabulous clearance that’s already been claimed.

Imagine my complete disappointment, then, when just yesterday we were on our second Target run of the week and as my five year announced his need to go “really bad”, we found things had changed. We arrived at my favorite store feature only to find that our beloved door handle had been replaced with a keypad, and, where there once was the universal stick figure plaque welcoming men, women and children of all physical abilities, we were greeted with a not-so-gentle red sign that read: “Team Members Only”. This meant rushing to the front of the store, taking the two year old out of the seat I had just spent the past 30 minutes trying desperately to keep him in, leaving the cart with a silent prayer that no shoppers would plunder my after-Christmas clearance or that my collected items would be mistakenly restocked by a well-meaning Team Member, waiting in line for a stall which I had to send my son into alone (who knows what went on in there…honestly – it’s not pretty sometimes), fighting with the two year old who now thought he was free and wanted to “wash his hands” (which really means play in the water in the sink), and dealing with the annoyed look of other Target “Guests” who don’t have children and didn’t understand the trauma I was putting them all through at the moment. Not fun.

I like that you call us “Guests” – it has a special feel to it. The private family bathroom had a special feel too, and it made sense. When asked to borrow the restroom in my own home, I wouldn’t tell my guests, “Why, sure you can borrow it! Not that one right there, though, that one’s mine. To get to yours, just take all your kids, please, and leave your lunch – don’t worry, I’m sure the dog won’t eat it…he doesn’t look that hungry. Go outside, around the porch, down the stairs and it’s in the back of the garage. You have to share it with the neighbors, though, so don’t be surprised if Mrs. Beetle’s in there. She’s a little grumpy, but don’t mind her – she just hates kids” (a little ridiculous, I admit, but I think you get my point).

I don’t know if the “Team Members Only” bathroom is just a local instance of having our guest privileges revoked, or if all Targets are going with the exclusive clubhouse feel. I certainly hope, however, that you’ll reconsider locking that door to the public. I’m sure I’m not the only mom who cherishes that part of her shopping experience, not to mention people who must shop with the elderly or handicapped who require much more assistance than the rest of the public needs to witness in a multi-stalled restroom. Just Google “Target +family restroom” sometime and see how praised a feature it is!

Thanks for letting me vent and for (hopefully) considering my request to have things restored to the way they were. If I’m truly just out of luck, however, could you please at least consider changing the color of the sign that tells me I’m not welcome anymore to white? Red, though very “Target-like”, just seems so mean.


Disappointed and Inconvenienced,

Samantha Roberts

Just so you know, they called me within 24 hours of receiving the letter to say that the reason the bathroom had been locked up was a lot of "illegal" activity that had gone on in there (hmmm...I'll leave that one alone...). If I really needed to use it, however, she said I could. I truly hate it when the rest of us have to suffer because of a few people who can't play by the rules. Thanks "illegal activity" people - you just really bummed me out.

Happy New Year

Well, it's a new year. Quite literally, in fact - it's only 21 minutes old as I'm writing this. So far, so good. No one's been sick all year. We haven't had a single unexpected bill yet, and the car hasn't presented any new problems (it's still in the driveway clinging to life with half a front bumper, though).

Normally my husband and I have a tradition of spending the evening together alone (it actually started one year when we both had the flu - how romantic). We either farm out the kids or we send them downstairs to play, watch a movie and eat something that doesn't require our presence to cut, blow on, spoon feed or micromanage. Then we have a nice adult meal upstairs, play a game or watch a movie, put the kids to bed, and ring in the new year basking in the silence of a still house. Yep, we're regular party animals.

This year, however, he's on a mission trip with some of our youth (not all of them, mind you - 10 of them backed out at the last minute costing us - let's just say - a lot of money per kid....but I digress....). So I'm here with the boys, alone. We did have a special meal - we loaded up and went to Chic-Fil-A where they split a 6 piece kids' meal and I ate a chargrilled chicken sandwich. I know, not exactly springing for a nice meal, but $8 was enough on the budget and they got ice cream and a play place. They got to stay up late (really late for them - 10:45), and we only had one little disagreement about bed time. Then we read "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" (a compromise in the face of really wanting to read "Green Eggs and Ham" for the 30th time), and said our prayers together before turning out the lights.

I had visions of doing something really profound at midnight. I took out the trash and ate a "Creamy Milk" flavored LuLu Bear (I have no idea...they were marked down to $.90 a package at Wal-Mart today. They're like bear-shaped Twinkies, only they're organic, full of Omega-somthingorother acids and they're from France. Who can go wrong with Twinkie bears from France for $.90 a package? AND they come in Chocolate cream too!). Then I came back to the computer room and weighed my options. I could have written as the calendar turned over - symbolizing what I hope is going to be a great start in a new career for me this year. I could have prayed, journaled or read my Bible. There were so many great options, I just couldn't decide!

At 11:45 the phone rang - it was my husband calling to wish me a happy new year a little early. We talked for about 2 minutes, then he had to hang up because they couldn't find their car in the parking lot of the stadium in Atlanta where they had just attended the Chic-Fil-A bowl. With time ticking down, I somehow made a decision about what to do. You know what I was doing when the moment finally arrived? I was playing (and eventually beating, thanks to passwords) "The Idiot Test" on armorgames.com. I'm happy to announce that I am, in fact, a genius, nevermind that I just had to spellcheck to make sure I spelled that word correctly.

So I suppose I'll never forget that I started 2008 proving to myself that I'm not an idiot. Come to think of it, I guess it's kind of self-defeating, though, isn't it? If I have to waste the time to take a test to prove I'm not an idiot, doesn't that in itself make me an i-.... Hmmm. I think I'll go have another LuLu bear.