Overwhelmed by issues at home lately? Feel anxious, or pulled in different directions?
This year has been like that for me.
As much as my husband and I are a team, our respective roles are separate and distinct.
When I write down only what God wants from me, focus comes. Peace comes.
I do pray for my husband, so that he's ready each day to follow God. But I am only responsible for my part. I can't waste energy worrying about what's between God and my husband. I'll only be in the way.
It's more than enough for me to make sure I'm in God's will.
Monday, December 7, 2009
ignoring the mess
We've been baking and blessing by day, AND I've had the writing bug for several nights straight--meaning I haven't been blessing the house....much. Writing is a bittersweet endeavor at this stage of my life; I must do it. The call is too powerful. But, oh! How I suffer when the house suffers!
Today is a school day and I must keep my blinders on--ignoring the call of the clutter and crumbs. We've made it to our first break, which laundry by itself will absorb.
Most moms will tell you that the most challenging thing about homeschooling is the MESS. Or rather, ignoring the mess. When the day's lessons are complete, mom is emotionally exhausted, and suddenly cleaning is the last thing she feels like doing.
Did I mention how much I love homeschooling?
Today is a school day and I must keep my blinders on--ignoring the call of the clutter and crumbs. We've made it to our first break, which laundry by itself will absorb.
Most moms will tell you that the most challenging thing about homeschooling is the MESS. Or rather, ignoring the mess. When the day's lessons are complete, mom is emotionally exhausted, and suddenly cleaning is the last thing she feels like doing.
Did I mention how much I love homeschooling?
Beth's Glorious Day
Peter, Paul, Beth and I went to a nursing home today--with the kids' choir from our church--for Christmas caroling and a Gospel message.
I have been deeply in love with babies since I was very little. I know they bless others enormously. Once you're a baby lover, you're always one. My dad is similarly affected; that man always makes a beeline to the nearest baby, whether he knows her or not. He prefers girl babies but boy babies will do.
I didn't set out with Beth today specifically so she could be a blessing. Mostly, I thought about her crying a lot for Daddy, and him being extremely stressed by the time we arrived home. I decided to take her along. She would enjoy the caroling, I thought. And there's the fact that I always miss her, even when I'm gone an hour at the grocery store.
The patients were taken with Beth and instinctively touched her hands, in a friendly greeting. At first I was scared. I hadn't thought about this possibility--about them touching her. What if she ended up gravely ill and in the hospital, as a result of my taking her there? I knew I could live without her through Christ's strength, but the hole in my heart left by her absence? That would never heal.
These were fleeting thoughts.
How bad of a virus could she get, I wondered, after the first three patients touched her. She's already been ill with what we think was H1N1, and she's covered for regular seasonal flu, due to a vaccine. What's more, at nearly one year old, she could recover easily from RSV, as a nursling. I didn't know what other scary things might be lurking.
I pushed away thoughts of bacterial meningitis.
During the singing I stood to the side of the room, holding Beth. I looked around at the patients. I thought I saw loneliness...sadness....bitterness. I couldn't find a single smile, despite the children's voices blessing the room.
If my own kids choose this for me someday, would I manage a smile when a church came singing?
It was a nice facility. Clean. Attractive. But, it was still a facility. They were still being cared for by strangers, who were working very hard, making between $8.00 and $11.00 an hour. Elderly-care and childcare are two of the worst-paid professions. Sad, but true. It has always angered me. How can we, as a nation, do this? Why don't we value our young and our old?
There was only one staff member bringing people to see us sing. At first, only five patients were in the room. Then, gradually, about six more were brought in--some toward the end. Two patients wheeled themselves in.
The children sang beautifully.
It ended after about forty minutes, which I think was too short. Afterwards, all the children and the adult escorts went around to greet people.
I knew my Beth could bless these people, if I took her around to each one. In my head, I spoke to Him. "Okay, Lord. You gave her to me to be a blessing. She is everything to me. I love her more than I can express. And I think you want me to share her. Protect her, and let her bless."
I then circled the room, stopping in front of each patient. They all touched her, smiled at her, talked to her. They were all blessed. So much so, that I didn't want to leave.
She is in bed now, asleep. I am praying that nothing is going through her body right now, as a result of her glorious day.
Deep down, I know she isn't mine. She is His. I learned this difficult fact about children on November 18, 2000, when I was told during an ultrasound that the baby boy I was carrying had passed away. There had been no sign of miscarriage, and we were 21 weeks along; we were shocked.
If I hadn't already learned this (that my children are His), I wouldn't have been able to take Beth around today, knowing she would be touched.
Many times since that fateful November ultrasound, I have had occasion to look back, and say, "If I hadn't gone through that, I wouldn't know _____."
I can't say I would choose it, if I could go back in time. No. I would never choose it.
But I'm grateful for it, nonetheless.
I have been deeply in love with babies since I was very little. I know they bless others enormously. Once you're a baby lover, you're always one. My dad is similarly affected; that man always makes a beeline to the nearest baby, whether he knows her or not. He prefers girl babies but boy babies will do.
I didn't set out with Beth today specifically so she could be a blessing. Mostly, I thought about her crying a lot for Daddy, and him being extremely stressed by the time we arrived home. I decided to take her along. She would enjoy the caroling, I thought. And there's the fact that I always miss her, even when I'm gone an hour at the grocery store.
The patients were taken with Beth and instinctively touched her hands, in a friendly greeting. At first I was scared. I hadn't thought about this possibility--about them touching her. What if she ended up gravely ill and in the hospital, as a result of my taking her there? I knew I could live without her through Christ's strength, but the hole in my heart left by her absence? That would never heal.
These were fleeting thoughts.
How bad of a virus could she get, I wondered, after the first three patients touched her. She's already been ill with what we think was H1N1, and she's covered for regular seasonal flu, due to a vaccine. What's more, at nearly one year old, she could recover easily from RSV, as a nursling. I didn't know what other scary things might be lurking.
I pushed away thoughts of bacterial meningitis.
During the singing I stood to the side of the room, holding Beth. I looked around at the patients. I thought I saw loneliness...sadness....bitterness. I couldn't find a single smile, despite the children's voices blessing the room.
If my own kids choose this for me someday, would I manage a smile when a church came singing?
It was a nice facility. Clean. Attractive. But, it was still a facility. They were still being cared for by strangers, who were working very hard, making between $8.00 and $11.00 an hour. Elderly-care and childcare are two of the worst-paid professions. Sad, but true. It has always angered me. How can we, as a nation, do this? Why don't we value our young and our old?
There was only one staff member bringing people to see us sing. At first, only five patients were in the room. Then, gradually, about six more were brought in--some toward the end. Two patients wheeled themselves in.
The children sang beautifully.
It ended after about forty minutes, which I think was too short. Afterwards, all the children and the adult escorts went around to greet people.
I knew my Beth could bless these people, if I took her around to each one. In my head, I spoke to Him. "Okay, Lord. You gave her to me to be a blessing. She is everything to me. I love her more than I can express. And I think you want me to share her. Protect her, and let her bless."
I then circled the room, stopping in front of each patient. They all touched her, smiled at her, talked to her. They were all blessed. So much so, that I didn't want to leave.
She is in bed now, asleep. I am praying that nothing is going through her body right now, as a result of her glorious day.
Deep down, I know she isn't mine. She is His. I learned this difficult fact about children on November 18, 2000, when I was told during an ultrasound that the baby boy I was carrying had passed away. There had been no sign of miscarriage, and we were 21 weeks along; we were shocked.
If I hadn't already learned this (that my children are His), I wouldn't have been able to take Beth around today, knowing she would be touched.
Many times since that fateful November ultrasound, I have had occasion to look back, and say, "If I hadn't gone through that, I wouldn't know _____."
I can't say I would choose it, if I could go back in time. No. I would never choose it.
But I'm grateful for it, nonetheless.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
peanut butter blossoms - a diversion
The children and I baked this evening, making a huge mess in the process. After they were tucked in and asleep, I started washing pans and bowls, while listening to some news. What a disturbing news weekend! As the details of the Knox murder case were discussed, I began to feel fear about being in the house without my husband (he left at 8:30 p.m. for a part-time job). The senseless violence involved in that case is so frightening!
I lived alone for a long time in California as a single school teacher, and I never had a problem with fear. Of course, I never read or watched anything disturbing, either. Feeling spooked is no fun.
Wanting to divert my mind, I turned off the news and put the clean-up on hold. I'm going to pass some time telling you about our cute little cookies--our cute little delicious cookies (peanut butter blossoms).
Baking with children is one of my favorite activities. I just love being one with them in the kitchen! I love that we all contribute. I love that they learn in the process. I love that their moods elevate immediately, upon hearing that we're going to bake, or make applesauce or soup. And I love their eager faces as I hand over the mixer utensils to be licked (I know--it's potentially unhealthy because of the raw eggs--but how fun!).
And finally, when the cookies come out of the oven, I love that it feels like a party around here! Kids just have a way of living that tickles my fancy. Life is a celebration! Live it up! Eat dessert first!
Not a bad motto, I must say.
There was an added bonus for the kids with these peanut butter blossoms. They unwrapped the Hershey's kisses for me first thing. While they worked, I announced that they could eat the leftover kisses. What joy ensued!
Without further ado, here is a recipe for peanut butter blossoms. They look almost too cute to eat! A perfect cookie to give away for the holidays! They're oh so delicious--or delectable, as Mary would say!
Peanut Butter Blossoms
Ingredients
48 Hershey's kisses
1/2 cup shortening (I used butter, 1/2 c)
3/4 cup creamy peanut butter
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1 egg
2 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
Granulated sugar
Directions:
1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Remove wrappers from chocolates. (Don't make the same mistake I did, and get into the chocolates before baking day!)
2. Beat shortening and peanut butter in large bowl until well blended. Add 1/3 cup granulated sugar and brown sugar; beat until fluffy. Add egg, milk and vanilla; beat well. Stir together flour, baking soda, and salt; gradually beat into peanut butter mixture.
3. Shape dough into 1-inch balls. Roll in granulated sugar; place on ungreased cookie sheet.
4. Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until lightly browned. Immediately press a chocolate into the center of each cookie; cookie will crack around edges. Remove from cookie sheet to wire rack. Cool completely. Makes about 4 dozen.
(taken from Hersheys.com)
I lived alone for a long time in California as a single school teacher, and I never had a problem with fear. Of course, I never read or watched anything disturbing, either. Feeling spooked is no fun.
Wanting to divert my mind, I turned off the news and put the clean-up on hold. I'm going to pass some time telling you about our cute little cookies--our cute little delicious cookies (peanut butter blossoms).
Baking with children is one of my favorite activities. I just love being one with them in the kitchen! I love that we all contribute. I love that they learn in the process. I love that their moods elevate immediately, upon hearing that we're going to bake, or make applesauce or soup. And I love their eager faces as I hand over the mixer utensils to be licked (I know--it's potentially unhealthy because of the raw eggs--but how fun!).
And finally, when the cookies come out of the oven, I love that it feels like a party around here! Kids just have a way of living that tickles my fancy. Life is a celebration! Live it up! Eat dessert first!
Not a bad motto, I must say.
There was an added bonus for the kids with these peanut butter blossoms. They unwrapped the Hershey's kisses for me first thing. While they worked, I announced that they could eat the leftover kisses. What joy ensued!
Without further ado, here is a recipe for peanut butter blossoms. They look almost too cute to eat! A perfect cookie to give away for the holidays! They're oh so delicious--or delectable, as Mary would say!
Peanut Butter Blossoms
Ingredients
48 Hershey's kisses
1/2 cup shortening (I used butter, 1/2 c)
3/4 cup creamy peanut butter
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1 egg
2 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
Granulated sugar
Directions:
1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Remove wrappers from chocolates. (Don't make the same mistake I did, and get into the chocolates before baking day!)
2. Beat shortening and peanut butter in large bowl until well blended. Add 1/3 cup granulated sugar and brown sugar; beat until fluffy. Add egg, milk and vanilla; beat well. Stir together flour, baking soda, and salt; gradually beat into peanut butter mixture.
3. Shape dough into 1-inch balls. Roll in granulated sugar; place on ungreased cookie sheet.
4. Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until lightly browned. Immediately press a chocolate into the center of each cookie; cookie will crack around edges. Remove from cookie sheet to wire rack. Cool completely. Makes about 4 dozen.
(taken from Hersheys.com)
Saturday, December 5, 2009
are you ready?
As I was reading Ann's post on A Holy Experience, I found this website: Christmas Change
I only had time to read two stories, but that was enough to convince me that the site is a wonderful place to hang out this month! Happy reading!
A WORD ABOUT PRAYER
I consider it a privilege to pray for you, by the way. If I ever write or say that I will pray, I really do it! I learned in the first two years of being a Christian that all too often, we passingly say we will pray, and then we fail to do it--not because of an impure heart, but because we aren't generally having a quiet time with the Lord when we say it. We think we will remember it later, during our "official" prayer time.
I have learned that we need to pray as soon as a need arises. God puts prayer needs in our path and on our hearts--I really believe that. Those thoughts that pop into our heads aren't of us. Listening to that Holy Spirit voice, and identifying it as His, helps me see intercessory prayer as a privilege and an obedience.
I've known some real prayer warriors in my life, and I'm not mature enough in the faith to compare to them, but I do feel God slowly changing this area of my life. Instead of lamenting about or trying to solve problems around me--expending all sorts of emotional energy in the process--I am remembering more often that God wants my prayers, not my help. It's not that my prayers change his mind. It's that they mold me into his instrument; they change me.
How haughty of me to have ever thought he needed my help!
When I turn to prayer, I am acknowledging him as my Creator, my King. It puts me in right relationship with him.
A right relationship with him brings peace and rest.
When I am at peace and resting (mentally, spiritually), he can work his wonders in my heart.
Because I am listening...waiting...ready.
Are you ready, today?
Have a blessed weekend with your families!
I only had time to read two stories, but that was enough to convince me that the site is a wonderful place to hang out this month! Happy reading!
A WORD ABOUT PRAYER
I consider it a privilege to pray for you, by the way. If I ever write or say that I will pray, I really do it! I learned in the first two years of being a Christian that all too often, we passingly say we will pray, and then we fail to do it--not because of an impure heart, but because we aren't generally having a quiet time with the Lord when we say it. We think we will remember it later, during our "official" prayer time.
I have learned that we need to pray as soon as a need arises. God puts prayer needs in our path and on our hearts--I really believe that. Those thoughts that pop into our heads aren't of us. Listening to that Holy Spirit voice, and identifying it as His, helps me see intercessory prayer as a privilege and an obedience.
I've known some real prayer warriors in my life, and I'm not mature enough in the faith to compare to them, but I do feel God slowly changing this area of my life. Instead of lamenting about or trying to solve problems around me--expending all sorts of emotional energy in the process--I am remembering more often that God wants my prayers, not my help. It's not that my prayers change his mind. It's that they mold me into his instrument; they change me.
How haughty of me to have ever thought he needed my help!
When I turn to prayer, I am acknowledging him as my Creator, my King. It puts me in right relationship with him.
A right relationship with him brings peace and rest.
When I am at peace and resting (mentally, spiritually), he can work his wonders in my heart.
Because I am listening...waiting...ready.
Are you ready, today?
Have a blessed weekend with your families!
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