My Testimony

My friend Beth from As He Leads is Joy asked about my testimony, so here goes:

I was raised in the Catholic Church during my younger elementary years. My mother grew up in a strict Catholic family. Her parents followed all the rules, including the no-birth-control rule, resulting in 14 total pregnancies for my grandmother, who raised ten children. Four babies passed away either in the womb or shortly after birth, in her mid- to late-forties.

Despite the strict religious upbringing, no one in my mother's family had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Also, of the ten children, none grew up to become Christians. Whether my grandmother was a Christian or not, I can't say for sure, but my guess is that no, she never truly trusted Jesus for her salvation.

My grandfather died when I was very young and I know very little about him, except that his later years were plagued by a very serious agoraphobia disorder. He was a critical, unloving man, according to my mother. She's never mentioned his spiritual make-up, so I assume it was similar to my grandmother's...all rules, no relationship.

The Catholic faith teaches that Jesus' death on the cross covers only original sin. Personal sins are paid for in Purgatory (place in Roman Catholic doctrine where souls remain until they have expiated their sins and can go to heaven). I consider Catholicism to be one of the good-works religions, in which one has to focus on being a good person, rather than on having a personal relationship with Jesus.

In recent years I read that about 30% of Catholics are truly born again. Perhaps this is the 30% who read the Bible? It's hard to say, but certainly some attend the Catholic Church while not believing everything it teaches. Many don't even understand official Catholic Doctrine, but still attend the church.

My mother began to date my father, a non-religious person whose mother was a Jehovah's Witness, in her late teens. Mom left Ohio at age 19 to move to California, where my father eventually pursued her and proposed. They married, despite a rocky relationship based on guilt.

My father went into the Air Force and when my mother was 22, she had my sister, and at 24, she had me. We were both born in Germany, and then moved to New York briefly, and then on to England when I was 3 and my sister was 5.

The marriage was dysfunctional due to my father's cheating. It lasted 8 years, after which my mother left my father and flew us to San Diego, California, where one of her sisters lived. We saw my father intermittently after the divorce, due to his military travel. When he settled in the High Desert of California, we saw him bimonthly.

My mother took us to the Catholic Church for a few more years, but she was extremely embittered over religion in general. The priest she saw in the confessional (to confess her divorce) told her the only way she could get to heaven would be to never remarry. My mother was 29 years old and had no college education, and she didn't have the gift of singleness. The priest's statement overwhelmed her and embittered her against all religion, and that hasn't changed (she's now 72).

As the years progress, her bitterness gets worse, which is very frightening to me. Scripture says the more times we reject Jesus, the harder our hearts become. Whether that's actually what's happening, I don't know.

It wasn't long after our First Holy Communion that she quit taking us to church, except for Easter and Christmas. She remarried when I was 6 years old, to a Navy man, and we were off again on overseas tours (Guam, Sicily) when we weren't living in San Diego, which was their favorite city. My step-father retired in San Diego, in fact, where I went to high school and college.

I went to the Catholic Church with a Catholic high school friend, intermittently, but it was her parent's religion, definitely not hers. My friend remains today, nonreligious, as do her three siblings. The Catholic Church, again, failed to impart any personal relationship with Jesus to these children, or to their parents. I don't remember that family ever opening the Bible.

I graduated from UCSD with a degree in Political Science and got engaged to a lawyer. After two years I called it off. We brought out the worst in each other, and he was Jewish and I was Catholic (at least in my mind, I was Catholic).

I was engaged to a Catholic man in my later twenties, and in retrospect I can tell you that the same thing was missing in his life--no personal relationship with Jesus Christ, no Bible reading, no real praying.

I broke that off shortly after becoming a teacher; by then, it was a long-distance relationship anyway, and he was taking forever to get through college. I had moved to the High Desert, almost 3 hours from San Diego, to live with my father and continue earning a teaching credential.

My Catholic fiance cared about whether I knelt down on the correct knee before going into a pew, but he never mentioned Jesus Christ, so it was doomed, with neither of us knowing anything about spiritual things, other than rules of conduct.

Rules without a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, involving the Holy Spirit dwelling in us, mean nothing but frustration. Even the meaningful rules that Jesus really cared about, couldn't be realized in a life without the indwelling Holy Spirit, who is our Counselor and our Comforter.

I continued to go intermittently to the Catholic Church as a single teacher, but my relationship with "religion" was dominated by frustration. I knew I loved God, but I didn't know how to access Him. I didn't know what I was missing.

My principal and the two office secretaries were all Christians, and a few teachers in my school were as well. They prayed for me, and the main secretary tried witnessing to me, explaining that the Catholic Church did not teach a plan for salvation.

She told me one day that I had to believe that Jesus was the Son of God, and that his death on the cross covered my sins. Without believing that, I couldn't get to Heaven, she went on to say.

I told her I had always believed both those things. No problem.

They continued praying.

My principal gave me More Than a Carpenter, a book about Jesus, but while I loved to read and would often read until 2 or 3 AM on the weekends, I never opened that particular book, before returning it a few months later. I loved my principal, a godly man, and I didn't want to lose his book, so I returned it.

They continued praying.

I dated a man after that Catholic relationship ended, and a year or so into the relationship, we ended up at a Calvary Chapel, but not near my home, as this was another long-distance relationship (60 minute drive one way). We both said the prayer of salvation in our seats, but nothing changed. No one discipled us or gave us a Bible, and we didn't have a desire to get one on our own; we were unchanged essentially. No hunger for the Word. We didn't understand what just happened, and we didn't know what we were missing.

I broke that relationship off, becoming uncomfortable with the man's recreational drinking, which I wanted no part of. Drinking occurred in my home growing up, and to me it was a recipe for dysfunction and heartbreak.

I returned to the Catholic Church after the break-up.

Finally, I became friends with a fellow first-grade instructor. She was very close to God and her life showed it, which wasn't really the case with the main secretary who tried to turn me away from the Catholic Church.

Being a widow, Phyllis was lonely and needed a friend, and I needed someone who had something spiritual that I was missing--a personal relationship with God that spilled over into every aspect of her life. This woman's faith wasn't just a weekend religious thing. The Lord was her life.

If we really want someone to come to Christ, we have to really love the Lord Jesus Christ and our love for Him must shine.

Phyllis's husband had committed suicide when they resided in Ohio, where she was a housewife and he was an engineer. After that horrific event she sold her home and moved to the California High Desert, to live with her brother and his wife, taking her teen-aged son with her. Her daughter was already in college at the time.

I met her after she had gotten back on her feet, gone back to college to pursue a teaching credential, and even battled ovarian cancer. She could not have her own children, but instead adopted two American infants in her early thirties. Not having children put her at risk for ovarian cancer.

After successfully fighting the cancer, she obtained a job as a first grade teacher at my school, which she did for a few years before becoming a reading resource specialist on our sight.

One day we were in the teacher's lounge, and Phyllis told me that her first grandbaby had contracted meningitis. I was amazed at her calmness...her faith...her peace in the midst of tragedy.

She flew that weekend to Ohio, where her son and his wife resided. The baby had to undergo an amputation, but it looked like he would make it.

Phyllis flew home, and then the baby worsened and passed away. Phyllis flew back for the funeral and was heartbroken, but her peace remained intact. To say I was amazed at this woman's peace was an understatement.

I wanted what she had.

Unfortunately, her son and his wife fell apart and in the next 18 months, divorced.

Neither Phyllis's adopted son or daughter have ever become Christians, partially because Phyllis became one after her marriage and the beginning of motherhood, and it's doubtful that her husband ever became one. Without the support and leading of a Christian father, it's very hard for children to adopt their mother's faith. Statistics show that children more often take their father's lead in spiritual things.

One day months after her grand baby's death, Phyllis went on a day trip to Big Bear Mountain with me, which was just 45 minutes from our High Desert town.

On the windy drive up the mountain, I told her how much I hated being 31 years old and still unmarried. I feared becoming an old maid. Any time I dated, I always found something wrong with the person after a year or so, and called off the relationship. I was discouraged and fearful about the future.

She kept saying, "That's not too big for God."

She listened some more, telling me, "Take that to God."

She said that multiple times, almost like a broken record, but gently spoken.

Never in my life did I pray any prayer that wasn't something like this: "Bless this person, God.  Bless that person, God." Along with your usual Hail Mary's and the Lord's Prayer.

None of my praying meant anything. It was little better than what the pagans do.

Right away, Phyllis knew what I was missing. She grew up in the Presbyterian church and never had a personal relationship with Jesus until adulthood, after she married. She explained what a personal relationship was and encouraged me to talk to God in my own words. She also explained what she was taught in the Presbyterian church: "You're okay. You'll get to heaven as long as you don't hurt anyone or commit horrible sins."

I don't remember being taught that same doctrine per se, but it's what I believed. Phyllis had to explain to me that no one is good enough to get to Heaven. No, not one. Not even Mother Theresa.

That was just the beginning.

I wasn't saved on that day, but it's the day my whole life turned around. I still can't think or write about it without huge tears. Someone had taken the time, finally, after all my years as a frustrated "religious" person/worldly person, to tell me what I was missing.

It seems like such a small thing, but it was huge. The difference between life and death. Peace and angst.

I can't pinpoint, as some can, the exact moment I became a Christian. I only remember that drive up a windy mountain and how it became my salvation, in a sense. No prayer of salvation was uttered, but God was faithful and in the next weeks and months, I changed.

Phyllis invited me and our first-grade aide to her house for a weekly Bible Study. She started us in Romans and it wasn't long before I was on fire for the Lord! I spent hours reading the Bible. Instead of continuing my love of classic literature, and staying up till all hours reading, I devoured the Bible for hours and listened to Christian radio exclusively.

I asked Phyllis tons of questions, day after day, during recesses, weekends, and on the phone. She discipled me for two years.

Phyllis attended an Assemblies of God church, but I could not go there with her for long. It made me very uncomfortable, so with her blessing, I began to attend a non-denominational mega church in the area--the same church my principal went to, as well as the school secretaries and a few other teachers on staff.

I was baptized soon after, and all the Christians on my staff attended. I'm sure they wondered: what took her so long? I began teaching there in 1992, and wasn't saved until 1997.

Two years after becoming a Christian, I met my husband on a singles' hike--an event set up by the singles group at our church. We met in early October and did things in groups for several months, not knowing the other was interested.

We were married the following July. Phyllis was one of my bridesmaids.

Thank you, Dear Father, for your faithfulness. Thank you, Jesus, for your sacrifice. Thank you, Phyllis, for your time and your obedience.

May we all take the time to explain the reason for our Hope...the reason for our Peace. May we pray for and befriend the unsaved, investing in their hearts and lives, for that's far more effective than anything else in escorting someone to the Throne of Grace.

May we keep reading our Bibles, and conversing with our Father, so that someone sees something in us that they simply must have for themselves.

We don't have to be perfect, just obedient, and the Holy Spirit does the rest.
 

Baby Joy and Giving Thanks

Oh, Joy! Tesha, a blogging friend who visits here, had her baby! Tears of overwhelming joy here and now a gratitude post in honor of her precious bundle, Julian Jonathan, 6 pounds 3 oz, 19 in. She won't be around much now I'm sure, but jump for joy in her honor anyway and praise our Heavenly Father for his faithfulness. Tesha lost a baby boy, Jonathan, in January of 2012, at about 20 weeks.

Julian has 5 brothers and 1 sister, all rejoicing with Mom and Dad right now.

Giving Thanks To God:

~ The best part of my children's ministry coordinator job is that I get to work frequently in the church nursery. Did I ever tell you I wish I'd been saved earlier, marrier earlier, and had 10 babies? I'm so pleased with my four blessings, but more would have been just wonderful. But that wasn't God's plan. Children's ministry is his plan, and it comes with such a bonus for my heart. I'm getting to know these babies (often 7 of them on a Sunday morning) and as they see me more, they're trusting me more and are even happy to see me, too.

~ Today I welcomed a precious new girl, Nicola, who was recently adoped from Poland and is still learning English. She is so sweet and I look forward to praying for her and enjoying her in nursery.

~ There's an autistic boy in my nursery that I find very precious, even though he can't interact with me in the typical sense. I know he wants to. He hasn't been there in about six weeks. I was missing him and found out today it isn't that they changed churches, just that he'd been sick with complicated colds.

~ This morning a 3-month-old baby fell asleep in my arms in the rocker, his fingers wrapped around mine. It was the most peaceful part of my whole week. I praised the Lord for that time!

~ I only have one more ministry position to fill. The church has been so responsive and gracious.

~ Beautiful weather for apple picking on Saturday. A yummy applesauce and more delights coming.

~ A big plush rocker at home to rock my big girls. They still fit in my lap for rocks in "Mommy's office" aka the rocker. Everything looks brighter after a visit to Mommy's office...brighter for me, too.

What are you thankful for today?

Homeschool and Mother's Journal Oct 11

In my life this week…

I love, love, love this life. But let me tell you, I'm as busy as 2009 when I had newborn and toddler girls, and 5- and 7-year-old boys. Having a first grader again has changed everything. Mary, age 6, has a full load compared to her kindergarten year. I teach until 5 PM sometimes between her subjects and the boys' writing, spelling, math, and novel discussions.

I try to give my 4yo forty-five minutes of formal learning a day, plus read-alouds, but it's hard to fit it all in. Thankfully my preschooler does well despite my lack of time. She knows her sounds except for a few vowel mix-ups, so she should start blending sounds by early next year.

The tub stopped draining this week and the water softener began to back up into the tub. Things got so bad I had to use a bucket to empty the tub before every shower (there are 6 of us).

So much fun, let me tell you.

As I bucketed each day, I remembered that in the third world many walk five miles a day for clean water. So really, what had I to complain about?

I needed an extra task to keep me out of trouble, I suppose? :)

I have to admit, when the dishwasher went out in late April, I wondered how I would fit doing dishes the long way into my busy life. Now, I can't imagine spending the money on a dishwasher ever again. It does take a chunk of my time each day, but doing dishes is second nature to me now. Women have always adjusted through the ages to whatever housekeeping environment God arranged for them. I can do no less, with his Grace.

It's all part of learning the difference between wants and needs. In the first world we lose sight of that distinction so easily, to our detriment.

And now back to the tub drain....

No, Beth, the word snake, when used in the plumbing world, does not mean a slithering snake gets stuffed down the drain to find your lost toys.

We just had the drain snaked back in February, so this was surely some small toy caught in the drain, and not just your usual hair clog.

No way was another $118 plumbing bill going to fit in the budget, so outside the grace of God, I had another 4 months of bucketing water to look forward. There would be no extra money until late February.

But God is full of grace. And he wants me home with my children, not working so we can afford household repairs.

Someone at husband's work heard him talking about our drain. The man said he had done many favors for a plumber friend of his, and he would call his friend and have him come to our house for free.

Good deed done, as of 3:30 today.

God is so good, and shame on us for ever thinking "there's no way". He doesn't promise to provide all our wants, but our needs? He's faithful to provide those as long as we seek first His Kingdom in our daily living.

In our homeschool this week…

Two good primary social studies books I wanted to share this week are: White Water, by Michael S. Bandy and Eric Stein, and Peppe The Lamplighter by Elisa Bartone.





White Water depicts a heartbreaking time in our history when blacks and whites had to use separate drinking fountains, separate sections of the bus, and blacks were called on to give up their seats to whites. This tender, poignant book teaches so much without being wordy or complicated. An excellent history choice for primary grades.

Peppe the Lamplighter tells the story of a young boy growing up on Mulberry Street in Little Italy, during a hard economy. He got a job lighting the neighborhood street lamps--a thrilling job for a little boy--and yet his father grows ashamed of him. He imagines his boy becoming a street figure instead of a doctor or lawyer. In the end, he learns to be a proud father. (And Momma, you won't get through it with dry eyes. A very good read!)

A good primary health choice is I Know Why I Brush My Teeth, by Kate Rowan. Your little one just might take dental health seriously after this book.




This week we've also enjoyed The 20th Century Children's Poetry Treasury.



My boys, ages 9 and 11, via Sonlight, are learning about the Eastern Hemisphere this year. Each country visited includes a non-fiction book, a fiction book, and some research with the World Book DVD ROM. The fiction selection for Australia, Red Sand Blue Sky, got a number of bad reviews from Christian parents, regarding being published by The Feminist Press, and having a Girls First logo on the front. I always preread the Sonlight reviews and Amazon reviews before buying any Sonlight books. Last spring when making selections, I decided not to buy this one.



However, I couldn't find other fiction featuring Australia to take its place (and I imagine Sonlight couldn't either). While not originally so, it's true that it's now published by The Feminist Press, and does have a "Girls First" logo, which I covered with a sticker. I hated having to buy this book, but I've found that fictional accounts lead to greater retention of historical and political information, especially for the elementary set.

Sonlight is an excellent company so please don't let this turn you off. 95% of what they assign is outstanding, exemplary literature--unforgettable literature, in fact. As a parent it's our job to pre-read everything to make sure it's okay for our family, no matter what company we choose. We're still responsible before God for what comes into our home (and into our children's hearts).

Anyhow, the book arrived in the mail on Monday and I finished it by Wednesday. The boys started it today. The writing isn't great but it does discuss complicated problems in Australia's past, as well as the heartbreaking nature of racial prejudice. The female characters, not surprisingly, are stronger than some of the male ones, but all in all it isn't harmful when read with adult guidance, and balanced with excellent literature all around.

The boys are also using Sonlight Science F (Health, Medicine and Human Anatomy), four books of which deal with serious anatomy. One of them includes worksheets on which the boys must label complicated body parts--something I thought might make them groan. However, the boys seem to be enjoying the sheets and never ask if they can skip them. They mispronounce many of the body parts, like the aorta, but I'm helping with that (with a private chuckle or two as they butcher these words). High-school level anatomy will be a breeze when we get there.

Sonlight Science F also comes with a Christian book on puberty called Almost 12, which is excellent and glorifying to God.




It also happens to go wonderfully with what Peter is covering in AWANA this week as well:

1 Corinthians 6: 19-20 Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.

The AWANA company added their own one-page insight about honoring God with our bodies in the midst of peer pressure, which was excellent.

My favorite thing this week was…

1. God proving to me once again that He is powerful, mighty, full of grace, and he PROVIDES.

2. Peter, age 11, cleaned my outside windows with a long-armed squeegee. He blessed my socks off, even though it's not a professional job by any means.

3. A 69-year-old friend from church brought dinner for us on Wednesday...a delicious pasta dish she cooked all day in the crock pot with yellow squash, zucchini, finely-chopped steak, carrots, etc. It was wonderful and the kids were so excited to see her. Beth said, "Mommy, I know this lady! I've seen her at church." She just wanted to bless me because I work in children's ministry at our church. Cheryl's a fellow migraine sufferer and a prayer partner for that issue, and this weekend is the one-year mark for our friendship. I met her at last year's church fellowship chili cook off, and this weekend brings the church chili cook off again...already! A fast year!

My kiddos favorite thing this week was…

Today Paul, age 9, decided he would be the resident art teacher. He planned and executed a painting lesson, and then added snack time and sports into his class time as well. I listened from afar and it confirmed for me once again that Paul has the gift of teaching. He even gave art prizes for different elements in the paintings.

The siblings enjoyed their time together, and even though 4yo Beth kept interrupting, Paul managed well and I was tickled.

Things I’m working on…

...Fitting in a classic novel read-aloud for my first grader. She still enjoys picture books and I still use them a lot for history and science, but she really needs a daily dose of classic big-kid literature as well. So far we've gone through Little House novels, the Mrs. Piggle Wiggles and a few others, but there's so much more on my shelf I want to share with her! With God's grace I'll find enough hours in the day for all best practices...reading classic literature aloud is a definite best practice. The boys have enjoyed novels with us for years.

I’m cooking…

tacos
chili
baked whole chicken
homemade chicken noodle soup ( a family favorite)
navy bean soup with ham
pumpkin pancakes (my personal favorite dinner...or breakfast :)

And we're baking this week: baked oatmeal, homemade cinnamon rolls

Need a bit of advice on my broth: I make homemade broth from chicken bones, adding enough water to cover the bones, and letting it simmer in a stock pot overnight, or in the crockpot overnight. The next morning I put it in the fridge to let the fat collect on top. That night I skim the fat and make chicken noodle soup with the broth and leftover baked chicken pieces.

My question is...is the broth considered concentrated, and can I put some in the fridge or freezer for another kind of soup, and water down the rest of the broth for my chicken soup? Thank you in advance for your broth wisdom!

I usually use the broth full strength and always end up wishing I had some available for other soups.

I’m grateful for…

~ a houseful of kids

~ good literature

~ the blessing of knowledge

~ consistent morning devotions (consistency has taken us some years, but we're finally there)

~ my four year old's sweet prayers

~ bedside, on-your-knees prayers with little ones

~ the major cyclone set to strike India won't hit our Compassion correspondent child's area

~ pumpkin-based foods

~ staying caught up on the clothes folding this week

~ steadfast husband

~ steady school progress

~ limiting neighbor children's visits has worked wonders for my stress level the past 3 days

A quote to share...


Proverbs 14:26 He who fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for his children it will be a refuge.

Thank you for reading here today. And how was your week?

Bless you in your secure fortress, my friends!

In Which I Share My Worst Parenting Day

I don't know how to begin this post except to say: parenting is shockingly hard.

Bedtime's been a nightmare around here the past few months. The boys have always shared a room peacefully, but lately they play off each other in waves of mischief, sometimes lasting an hour.

Silliness at teeth brushing, scaring each other after lights out, throwing clothes, giggling. A whole slew of consequences haven't changed a thing, with Peter being the instigator most of the time, and Paul allowing himself to be led astray.

Just when Mom and Dad are feeling the most spent, comes the worst part of the day. These boys are old enough to be more sensitive to their parents' exhaustion.

Last night, after problems with neighbor kids just hours before, I was so. done. with. child. rearing. So beyond exasperated. Peter got the rare spanking, which he's really two years too old for. I didn't do it, I confess, because I thought it was the answer, but because in my exhaustion and exasperation, I wanted to punish him for the stress he causes night after night.

Whenever a spanking is given to punish, either consciously or subconsciously, it's never good parenting. It's broken parenting. Our aim as Christian parents is to shepherd, not punish. Punishing--outside of a civic, societal function--is about getting back at someone, not redirecting them toward righteousness.

A calmly-given spanking can be part of good parenting, I do believe, but I wasn't calm (don't worry though--there's not a mark on him).

After all were asleep, I was heartbroken and empty. I wanted real answers, not just grace. I knew if I sat down and recited the 23rd Psalm and prayed, and quietly let the Holy Spirit minister to me, I would recover.

But I wanted more than recovery...I wanted all the trouble to disappear. I wanted beautiful nights of parenting, executed as gracefully as an expert ballet performance. A true art form.

My husband is gone 12 hours a day Monday through Friday, and 6 hours on Saturday, which leaves me with a full-to-the-brim load. The lower your income is the more hours you need to work (and sometimes the higher your income and responsibility, the more you need to work).

With the homeschooling, the chores, the various disorders represented here, and the neighbors who congregate here by the threes after 3:30 PM, while I'm trying to put school supplies away, switch laundry, do dishes, and make dinner...well, it's too much.

My kids behave better when they play with just each other, so in the healing time last night, as I asked for real answers, it came to me that it was quite reasonable to limit the neighbor childrens' visits to just the weekend, when my husband is available to watch everyone outside. He loves the outdoors anyway, and with perimenopausal upheaval happening to me when I least expect it, I simply can't pack my days as full as before, and maintain the same level of sanity.

Being in the middle of this, I'd say it's probably easier to go through menopause when your kids are young, verses when they're teens and in upheaval themselves. One of the blessings to having kids later in life?

I suspect so.

My boys tend to rush through their afternoon school to be done in time for the neighbor children's inevitable knocks. Yesterday I had Lexie insist she wanted to hang around our yard while we finished school. She even went into our shed, making herself at home with Peter's pet snake, and later staring into our window, checking on our progress. I felt so invaded and the kids couldn't concentrate; the boys made terrible spelling errors.

We had an ADHD/OCD pediatrician appointment, and a library stop, both of which slowed us down and made school go later.

Lexie went on to entice my six year old into a tree that was way too large for her to handle, prompting me to send all the kids home. It took me telling Lexie four times before she would leave the yard. I was terribly exasperated, but I also had compassion on her mom, because if she's this bad over here, she's far worse at home.

It occurred to me, too, that as a parent I would never send my children to the same house day after day, expecting the mom there to watch her own kids as well as mine. That's just rude and yet these parents have done it for over a year, never checking on their own kids or asking if I mind the nearly-daily invasion.

I don't allow my children to visit neighbors' yards or houses, in fact, because I think a parent-extended invitation is important, and because there are no Christian parents on this street anyway.

The Holy Spirit brought other solutions to my mind, too, such as putting one boy in the master bedroom until both are asleep, and the one can be carried back to his own bed. It's not ideal, but it should help. Also, Peter will be given time to read in bed to help him relax and stay out of mischief, and he'll be allowed to sleep later in the morning to compensate.

Today has gone far better so far, even with speech appointments interrupting us again.

During morning devotions I read aloud some commentary on our Matthew passage:

Commentary from Life Application Study Bible on Matthew 13:8, pg 1674:

This parable should encourage spiritual "sowers"-- those who teach, preach, and lead others. The farmer sowed good seed, but not all the seed sprouted, and even the plants that grew had varying yields. Don't be discouraged if you do not always see results as you faithfully teach the Word. Belief cannot be forced to follow a mathematical formula (i.e., a 4:1 ratio of seeds planted to seeds sprouted). Rather, it is a miracle of God's Holy Spirit as he uses your words to lead others to him.

I choked up reading this, on the morning after my hardest day. Children, in other words, will not necessarily show fruit in direct proportion to our evangelism and discipleship efforts--neither our own children or the neighbor children. But our words do matter. Our obedience matters.

It may seem to me that my boys should be more sensitive to Mom's and Dad's feelings at their ages, but God is working through the Word, and through our discipleship, nevertheless. Our home may not be spilling with spiritual fruit right now, but I believe every passage we read, everything we teach, everything we model (yikes!), will shape their hearts for life.

So often with parenting, the rewards come later. So often as Christians, in fact, the rewards come later. It's hard to labor day after day, knowing the rewards are far removed.

But in the meantime there is grace. There's wisdom freely given to the prayer warrior.

There's a quiet Savior whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light, who quiets me by his love.

Zephaniah 3:17 The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.
Romans 8:37-39 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

So, how was your parenting day?

Prayer for a Weary Mom After a Long Day

Exodus 15:2 The LORD is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation; this is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him.

A prayer for the weary mom who packs so much into a day, 10 PM finds her a wired ball of stress...too agitated for bedtime.

Dear Heavenly Father,

You are an awesome God, abounding in love. We praise your holy name! We love you and we thank you for the gift of abundant life, for forgiveness, mercy, grace. We thank you for our families. Thank you for the ministry that is children. Thank you for the cuddles and the giggles and the silly jokes. Thank you for the healthy, growing bodies. May we stop and give thanks, we mothers, even on the hard days when everyone squabbles and the volume rises. May we run the race with grace and patience, knowing that the fruit of our labor is guaranteed by your partnership with us, and by our obedience to your will. May we model obedience and self-sacrifice, love and faith, mercy and wisdom. Fill us up now with your Holy Spirit, and give us a restful sleep, quieted by your love.

In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.

Zephaniah 3:17 The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.