Counting my Blessings - Saturday
- my online buddies
- My boys, 6 and 8, have finally hit upon the book series. What is the book series, you ask? It's the author series that turns a reader into a bookworm. Most bookworms become so by falling in love with a certain author and then taking off from there, devouring more and more books. My definition of a juvenile bookworm is a child who: A) longs to start reading soon after waking in the morning, and B) looks at every task that takes away reading time as a nuisance. And the drumroll please! What series is it in this house? Junie B. Jones Yeah for Barbara Park! I owe her a hug and a huge batch of cookies, at least.
- Baby Beth's smile. It's just beautiful.
- freshly baked pumpkin bread on a cold, rainy day
- fall leaves
- crisp air, sweaters
- the literacy playroom at one of our libraries (full of fine-motor, alphabet, number, problem solving, shape, color, movement and other preschool activities, which are changed weekly. Moms interact with their preschoolers, exploring the activities together).
- Peter's heart for God and for the lost
- Paul's cuddling
- a nursing baby in my bed
- Beth's first two-word phrase this week--"more nurse" (without the "s", which she still can't form)
- french vanilla hot chocolate - My Walmart grocery store quit carrying it. I'm devastated.
- cuddling with my kids on the couch instead of doing chores (I have a sinus infection brought on by fall allergies. Man, I thought migraines were painful!)
- my husband's hair, still thick but soft, and still mostly blond at age 52
- clean happy kids fresh out of the bath
- homemade pancake night (Saturdays) w/mixed thawed berries on the side, because everyone loves it immensely and there's joy all around
- the jars that Newman's Own Black Bean and Corn Salsa come in. We take off the paper, run them through the dishwasher, and reuse them as milk glasses for the kids. Now, no one ever spills their milk! Yeah! The size, shape, and weight discourage spillage. Go figure.
- that God never gives up on us
- that prayer always changes us
- that even though we feel like sinners and can still list a lot of sins we struggle with, we are still more godly than we were last year, or even last month. God is faithful to move us forward (especially when we give him the reins).
- My mother's recent visit (she came somewhat urgently to see her sister Carol, who I mentioned went into a nursing home recently). Mom flew back to Oregon last Tuesday. The children and I enjoyed her visit--a huge success relationally.
- Mary's sweet personality and the way Beth's face lights up when Mary comes into the playroom first thing in the morning.
- the fact that my girls use quieter voices than my boys (thank you, thank you, thank you!)
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Help From the Body
I love my online community! It is small but special. Handpicked by God, each reader is. I've been ministered to in so many ways. Thank you.
Just thank you.
This morning I received an e-mail from a blog reader friend whom I've "known" for twenty-one months. She wrote a very warm, loving, heartfelt letter urging me to ask the church for help for my kids' sakes. Having experienced financial instability as a child, she wrote from that perspective--as an advocate for our kids, while being understanding of our perspectives. I couldn't see until after I read her letter that I (we) were punishing our kids by removing them from programs they dearly loved, all because of fear--fear of asking for help.
Yes, it is fear.
My head says people will wonder what is wrong with my husband and me, that we can't get back on our feet after all this time. After all, we both have college degrees. This really shouldn't be happening--or at least not for this long. What are they saying behind our backs? Things like this maybe: They're not trying hard enough! They should just pull themselves up by their bootstraps and make it happen! They should both be out there looking at every available moment. They should put their kids in public school, start with subsidized daycare if necessary, and get good jobs!
I've no doubt that some of this, or all of it, is circulating in various minds. Our financial crisis began when Baby Beth was three months old and colicky (she's now nearly 22 months). There was no fear then that people would expect me to go to work. But as time passed, I became self-conscious about being home while financial ruin threatened. It was a relief of sorts when our second car went down for the count, making it impossible for both of us to work. Was it God's way of providing some peace for my self-conscious soul?
I don't have a single flesh-and-blood person to confide in about the gravity of our situation--which explains my sobby previous post. Holding it all in has been difficult, even though hope has been my companion until recently.
A few hours after reading my friend's e-mail, I decided to contact the church and tell them about the AWANA night transportation/work hour situation. I agonized about whether to use the phone, e-mail, or a letter. And I agonized about how to approach the topic of help. (Can you tell I rarely ask for help?) Should I directly ask if someone can pick up my kids, or simply tell them why we can't continue, and hope that God puts it on someone's heart to offer help?
Worrying myself into a migraine, I decided to wait until Monday.
Then Erica, the children's director, called. She asked me how I was doing, and right there I almost lost it.
She knew it would probably be difficult for us, but she wanted to call anyway and invite our kids to participate in the Christmas Pageant, even though we're no longer regular attenders. (We're still going to the flexible-schedule megachurch right now).
I gave her a heartfelt thanks. And then I took a deep breath.
I mumbled through some details, saying that I knew it was a lot to ask, but we needed transportation help to continue with AWANA.
And the woman started crying.
She said that she loved our kids--that the whole church did--and that she'd do anything for them. And through her tears, she pleaded with me not to be afraid to ask for help. She mentioned the art class, telling me they had a surplus of money, and that not all parents could pay, and that was okay.
And then I started crying.
Breaking down, I told her how exhausted we were--husband and me. How we had both recently lost hope, wondering how long this trial could possibly last.
And she listened. She understood. Then she prayed for us.
And I felt loved. Relieved. Uplifted.
After the phone call, I went outside to tell the children, tears still streaming down.
Hearing the news, Paul ran up to me and jumped in my arms, full of joy about AWANA and art and Erica's love.
I learned a lot today.
Most of all, I learned that when you lose hope, the Body of Christ hopes for you.
Thank you, dear sister, for your e-mail! And the prayer. God used it.
Just thank you.
This morning I received an e-mail from a blog reader friend whom I've "known" for twenty-one months. She wrote a very warm, loving, heartfelt letter urging me to ask the church for help for my kids' sakes. Having experienced financial instability as a child, she wrote from that perspective--as an advocate for our kids, while being understanding of our perspectives. I couldn't see until after I read her letter that I (we) were punishing our kids by removing them from programs they dearly loved, all because of fear--fear of asking for help.
Yes, it is fear.
My head says people will wonder what is wrong with my husband and me, that we can't get back on our feet after all this time. After all, we both have college degrees. This really shouldn't be happening--or at least not for this long. What are they saying behind our backs? Things like this maybe: They're not trying hard enough! They should just pull themselves up by their bootstraps and make it happen! They should both be out there looking at every available moment. They should put their kids in public school, start with subsidized daycare if necessary, and get good jobs!
I've no doubt that some of this, or all of it, is circulating in various minds. Our financial crisis began when Baby Beth was three months old and colicky (she's now nearly 22 months). There was no fear then that people would expect me to go to work. But as time passed, I became self-conscious about being home while financial ruin threatened. It was a relief of sorts when our second car went down for the count, making it impossible for both of us to work. Was it God's way of providing some peace for my self-conscious soul?
I don't have a single flesh-and-blood person to confide in about the gravity of our situation--which explains my sobby previous post. Holding it all in has been difficult, even though hope has been my companion until recently.
A few hours after reading my friend's e-mail, I decided to contact the church and tell them about the AWANA night transportation/work hour situation. I agonized about whether to use the phone, e-mail, or a letter. And I agonized about how to approach the topic of help. (Can you tell I rarely ask for help?) Should I directly ask if someone can pick up my kids, or simply tell them why we can't continue, and hope that God puts it on someone's heart to offer help?
Worrying myself into a migraine, I decided to wait until Monday.
Then Erica, the children's director, called. She asked me how I was doing, and right there I almost lost it.
She knew it would probably be difficult for us, but she wanted to call anyway and invite our kids to participate in the Christmas Pageant, even though we're no longer regular attenders. (We're still going to the flexible-schedule megachurch right now).
I gave her a heartfelt thanks. And then I took a deep breath.
I mumbled through some details, saying that I knew it was a lot to ask, but we needed transportation help to continue with AWANA.
And the woman started crying.
She said that she loved our kids--that the whole church did--and that she'd do anything for them. And through her tears, she pleaded with me not to be afraid to ask for help. She mentioned the art class, telling me they had a surplus of money, and that not all parents could pay, and that was okay.
And then I started crying.
Breaking down, I told her how exhausted we were--husband and me. How we had both recently lost hope, wondering how long this trial could possibly last.
And she listened. She understood. Then she prayed for us.
And I felt loved. Relieved. Uplifted.
After the phone call, I went outside to tell the children, tears still streaming down.
Hearing the news, Paul ran up to me and jumped in my arms, full of joy about AWANA and art and Erica's love.
I learned a lot today.
Most of all, I learned that when you lose hope, the Body of Christ hopes for you.
Thank you, dear sister, for your e-mail! And the prayer. God used it.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Amy's baby
Amy from Raising Arrows had her baby! You wouldn't believe the size of this baby! Mine ranged in weight from 5 pounds 9 ounces to 6 pounds 6 ounces. And I thought my labors were painful! I can't imagine.
Friday, September 24, 2010
The Very Hungry Caterpillar
The very hungry caterpillar has eaten all day long. Do you see him on the twig with a leaf in his (or her) mouth? The mouth is on the left.
Here is a macro shot, with the mouth on the right now.
My next question is, how did this thing, which will become a sphinx moth, go from dead-as-a-doornail, to very hungry and active and agile?
Was it our prayers? Or does their skin heal from boo boos, just as ours does?
One thing for sure. This little bugger is pretty entertaining.
Okay, yes. I admit it. We're weird.
Okay, yes. I admit it. We're weird.
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