Mundane and pain.

This morning:
I woke up to my youngest son hollering from the bathroom, "I. AM. ALL. DONE!!"
I then cleaned up cat vomit. 
Finally was able to make a cup of tea, only to realize the cream was bad (add that to the never ending grocery list). 
I have a government census worker coming in a few minutes for a survey I don't have time for.
I am leaving early for work to help a friend. 
I was supposed to make cookies to bring on this weekends trip but there is no time.
As soon as I shut the bathroom door they began hollering for me, how do they always know?

Today is the mundane-roll-your-eyes-with-a-big-sigh-just-another-day.  But these days are gifts.  I know that is true because some couples wish they had children so they could experience the mundane parts of parenthood, and some have suicidal children, and don't know if tomorrow will be the day they find just a body, and some have to watch there children who are weak with a sickness that seems so big and is life consuming, and these wish for the roll-your-eyes,-it's-just-another-mundane-kinda-day.

I know this because while I haven't been the parent I've been the daughter whose parents were shopping for tomb stones with there baby's name carved into it, and I have been the sister wondering if today would be his last.  I've been the friend who has cried over sicknesses that small hearts shouldn't have to bear.  I know what these parents wish for.

As I go through my day wondering if I really do have time to make those cookies and wondering how many times I will have to wipe little boy bums, I will say thank You for the mundane I will also beg for healing of those I know.  I will trust that God is big enough.  At the end of the day when I have no more words and the pain is too great for them and for me I will say the only thing I can, the only thing that always precede the miracle; thank You.

Thanksgiving-giving, thanks in everything-prepares the way that God might show us His fullest salvation in Christ. ~ Ann Voscamp

For Sheol cannot thank you, Death cannot praise You; those who go down to the pit cannot hope for Your faithfulness.  It is the living who give thanks to You, as I do today; a father tells his sons about Your faithfulness.

~ Isaiah 38:18-19

 

Gifts..

 

~ Mundane days.

~ Spring sunshine.

~ Chocolate brown eyes and perfect hugs.

~ A God who is big enough.

~ Laundry to be folded, soothing a bit of my heart.

~ The tumbling of the dryer and the swishing of the washer, more therapy for my soul.

~ Promises of hope.

~ Friendships.

~ Tears that do not go unnoticed and groanings that are not misunderstood.

~ Having the best of a bad situation.



EFA 3.6 and our Resurrection garden

I love, love, LOVE family days!  I think that's why I label them Epic Family Adventures, because no matter what we do they are always epic...Well okay let's be honest here, they are almost always epic, and this was one of those days.

To begin this epic day we had breakfast at my most favorite pub where the food is filling and the price is low.



Laughter: Hey, this looks like one of the letters from one of the names in our family.

Strong man: Oh yeah which letter?

Laughter: The letter 2.

Just before Easter the past few years I have seen this idea of making a Resurrection garden.  Last night I decided this year we would give it a try. Here's what you need:
~3 crosses
~Dirt
~A plant pot base
~Itty-bitty plant pot.
~Grass seed.

Last night I went out to our wood pile looking for some wood splinters to make miniature crosses out of.

 

After we got home from breakfast I gave each hooligan a spoon to put a thin layer of wet soil on the bottom of the pot base. Then  we placed the itty-bitty pot on it's side as to be the empty tomb.

 



Once we had it where we wanted it we covered the pot to make it look like a tomb in a hill.

I say "we" used spoons but for one of us it seemed better to use his hands, even though I had to dig out the tomb entrance three times.

My wild one covered in mud grabbed a whole handful of seed but found that instead of nicely falling onto our soil they clung to him like thistles cling to socks, but once we got hands washed and dried the grass seed fell into place quite nicely.

Lastly we added crosses before setting our soon to be garden in a sunny window. 

It should take 4 to 7 days for the grass to sprout.  The goal is that each time we see this garden of ours we will remember and fall more in love with Jesus.

Snow days are for...

Warm cinnamon buns and coffee.

Spontaneous visits from friends.

Conversations of motherhood while babies play.

Nerf battles and homemade pizza.

Books to be read.

Both big hearts and little hearts filled.

Here's what I love:

~ My boy learning to become a man.


~ Spring time lunches.
~ Hidden treasures that only little boys can leave behind, & gifts only Mommas can give to her boys, such as an evening spent in there underwear.


 The dragon lair of stinky clothes.

~ Fires on blustery spring days.
~ Little boy toes.

~ Songs of love to Jesus.
~ My strong man who shares my heart even though we pursue it differently, the perfect team.




~ Seeing faith in a tangible way.
~ Siting alone with a notepad, Bible, crayons, and coffee for hours at a local coffee shop.
~ Seeing deeper still, every bit of life is a miracle, a gift of Grace.

Words from my littles.

 

 ~ 3 year old Laughter looking out the window, "It's a really blustery day."

 

~ The morning of Laughter's birthday he was over joyed at the fact that he was 3. To which Man of the woods said, "You're not really 3 until your party." after the party Man of the woods turned his head to the side as he examined his brother and wondered out loud, "You don't look like you've grown. What happened? You're 3 but don't look like you've changed any."

 

~ In a craft store with Laughter today he saw a rack full of lace. In a high pitched excited voice he said, " Oh Mom it's toliet paper!"

~ While playing kitchen with Laughter I started singing just like I always do when I cook, but he said, "No singing while you cook it's dangerous. You might get burned."

~ Playing Pizza Hut Laughter said, "Take out your phone and call the police with me, we're all out of bread sticks and they'll know what to do!"

 ~ I came home from work to find Laughter shirtless when I asked why he said, "Because I'm the Hulk and Hulk doesn't wear a shirt."

~ I asked laughter to help pick up the markers after a few minutes he came to me with this, "Mom I can't pick up the markers and that's so unusual."

 

 

~ Laughter trying to get me to understand the word he was saying, "T, t, t, crayon"

 



 

~ The third time Laughter came out of his room after he was supposed to be in bed I greeted him with a stern, "What are you doing out of bed?" His response, "Nails didn't keep Jesus on the cross it was love."

 



~Laughter to me, “Mommy I love you. I think that when I’m a man you’ll be a
little boy.”

~Strong man had just explained the word scheme to Man of the woods using the example of Laughter and Man of the woods planning a way to take a cookie after they had already been told no. Laughter over hearing there conversation says, “Mommy scheming is like when you and Daddy make a plan to take a cookie after you already said no. That is what scheming is. And then do you know what would happen? You would get punished!”

~ Laughter, "One time I pooped so much I pooped a sandcastle."

Why I cringe at being called a Christian, part 2

The other day I shared this post, part 1. I just laid it out there not sharing my heart, but giving proof of the christian reality of those looking in. I have much of the conversation still running through my mind. So many thoughts so many hurts so many things I want to change within me, as one close to me once said, "I have to be the change I want to see." This one too I asked why he left the church a place he entered each Sunday as a child, unfortunately his response didn't surprise me...

As for the church...I have seen satin occupy the building thus displacing the words spoken. Actions speak louder then words. I forget who said it but I try to live by, to thine own self be true. Basically knowing when I've done right and owning when I've done wrong and realizing that I have to be the change that I want to see, and understanding that I cannot change others only myself and my actions...

In neither recollection of the time spent in "church fellowship" was love, grace, forgiveness, discipleship ever mentioned.

I want to be the change I want to see. I want to be known as a Jesus follower.  I want Honest love.

But if you had known what this means, "I desire compassion, and not sacrifice," you would not have condemned the innocent.

~ Matthew 12:7

Spring fever

I am not even about to claim that I'm a seasoned Mom, but after four years of this journey I know enough to not be surprised when March first rolls around and all of the sudden my two hoolies are climbing the walls...Literally, climbing the walls.

For the first two years I thought maybe my children had some how found a way to inject themselves with sugar.  The third year it occurred to me there was a pattern to the extreme chaos that ensues the entire month of March.  So this year I was prepared.  I entered the month reminding myself to show much grace knowing full well this year was going to be like every other.

March the month where the sun teases and it slushes for days allowing only for us to watch through the window.  This is the month I begin dreaming of gardens, birds, the sent of wild flowers, reading books in the sun while the littles play.  This is the month where the boys begin dreaming of the fort hidden just behind the tree line, frog pounds, bugs, and fishing.  My wee one is hoping to catch some snakes this summer too.  To which I say, "Praise the Lord I have a bestie who happens to be a snake catching pro."...Just a fair warning Dearest, and maybe you could scare him out of this interest for snakes like you did my oldest.  I would be ever grateful...

In this month...
~I have found my laundry counter "cleaned" off and turned into a fort of some sort. 
~I have b-ball circuits being done in my living room.  For fun.
~The game of cat and mouse where the boys run in circles through the living room, kitchen, playroom, and back to the living room has been invented.
~The couch has become a spring board and the beds have become trampolines.
~All that loud boy noise that has been held in so well over the winter is exploding out in the wee hours of morning. (I think one boy will be pleased when we "Spring ahead" this Sunday so the rest of us will need to get up when he does.)
~The hodge-podge lunches have begun-nuts, fruit, pretzels, maybe boiled eggs, & raw veggies.

Yes, yes, spring fever has arrived.  May the north wind bring in the warm rays of summer as it blows past.

Simple joys from last week to this one.

~Boys swimming in the bath tub.
~Kitties sleeping in boxes.
~Watching my four year old fall in love math.
~ Seeing more and more that my three your old is going to be an artsy craftsy kind of guy.
~ Driving with my windows down just a notch.
~ Cuddles with my baby who really isn't a baby.
~ Starting fires as the sun sets instead of as it rises.

~ Hearing the soft clank of Joy, Grace, Thanksgiving that I now wear around my neck, a daily reminder for those days when I can't really see.
~ Watching the snow fall.
~ Longing for spring as I begin to plan out my garden.
~ Folding laundry.
~ The boys enjoying homemade strawberry sorbet.
~ A day for play dough.
~ Little boys run shirtless.

~ Five boys three with a different name then ours but I think brothers at heart.
~ Sipping coffee at the kitchen table with chaos all around.
~ Movie night with my happy little family of four.
~Little boys that get excited about cleaning...even if they decide to "wash" the windows with a rag meant for dusting.  Leaving the Windows streaky clean.

~ Date nights with Strong man.

Conviction

My fingers were stacking fork on knife to be tightly rolled with a napkin, my mind completely oblivious to there movement focused only on this conversation of the heart when he walked around the corner to fill empty shelves with clean cups. He walked smack dab into our conversation. As the shelves quietly filled, he hears me say, "...To sum up what I'm trying to say is this; I want people to know that I'm a follower of Jesus. But I want people to know I'm real. Those things you said about the religious being legalistic, fake and focused on status quo are all true. That's why I don't like to be called a Christian."

I realize the shelves had stopped filling my eyes shift to find him with his mouth open, our eyes met and words find him, "I thought I was the only one who talked like that. And you, one who is extremely religious to say those things. There must be a problem if you, so convicted, see it too. Wow, I'm in shock...My studies in school are focused on philosophy. I try to stay far from religion, because beliefs when shaken fall apart. There is no foundation to them."

My fingers stop, worried that maybe I had in some way denounced my Savior I quickly answer, "I don't know for sure but I don't think my beliefs can be shaken."

Without missing a beat, "No you don't have beliefs you have conviction. When somebody is convicted it runs deep and is almost impossible to shake. No, what you have is conviction, not beliefs."

The shelves are filled, the silverware rolled and I am alone only with the whirling noise of the vacuum although I don't hear it. Conviction versus belief. How is the word conviction used? Court first comes to mind, as it is the work of my husband after all. Conviction in the court room; the act of finding one guilty. Hmm, I like that. Yes, Jesus, convict me. Show the world that I am guilty of being like you.

Why is it?

Questions from my Bible study:

Why is it that John the baptist who "came neither eating or drinking" was said to have a demon, but Jesus who "came eating and drinking" was said to be "a gluttonous man and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!"? (Matthew 11:18-19)

Why is it that the world instinctively knows they are wicked but the religous feels obligated to point it out?

Why is it that the religious beg for Grace, but so seldom give it?

Why is it that the cities where Jesus did miracles are the same cities that refused to repent? (Matthew 11:20-24)

Why do these questions sound so wrong, so backwards?

I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish that you were cold or hot. So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of My mouth. Because you say, "I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing," and you do not know that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked...Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline; therefore be zealous and repent.

~ Revelation 3:15-17 & 19

Why I cringe at being called a Christian, part 1

Just like when I wrote the post, It's almost midnight but I can't sleep, I find myself in front of the fire as snow quietly falls outside, it's midnight, and I am awake, pondering words of a coworker.

Work was slow, we all did our tasks, but found rest in the first slow Friday since the new year.  As I took the salad bar apart I asked one that I knew had some church experience, "Were you raised in the church?"

I grew up Catholic.  I just didn't like it.  Then when I lived down south I went to a Southern Baptist church, but they were too focused on there possessions, there status quo.  I tried the Apostolic Pentecostal church too.  It didn't matter how strictly I did what I was supposed too, I could never get the holy ghost.  The Baptist, there fake...The phone rang interrupting our conversation, an interruption I was relieved to have as tears were brimming.  The pain and the hurt too much for words.