Keep going

He was sobbing. Dirt streaked down his face and blood streaming from his knee. And what did his compassionate, loving mother do? "Get up Will. Let's try again." "No! I hate it! I will never be able to ride a bike. I don't care! I am done!" Commence sobbing and walking away.

Now I had a choice here. I could let him walk away. I could let him quit. After all he was having a lot of trouble. He was spending more time on the pavement than on the pedals. But I couldn't. I also knew how bad he felt that he couldn't do this yet. Partially my fault, as I had never bought him a bike because there was no place to ride. Then he discovered that all his friends were riding and he..couldn't.

I knew this was hard for him. I also know lots of things are going to be hard that you can't quit. For me, this was becoming less about staying up on two wheels and more of a lesson I remembered learning myself. I once was stuck in the middle of a cliff. Ok...maybe not a cliff, but it was a high rock. We were rock climbing for a training for summer camp. I was screaming "No! I hate it! I will never be able to climb this rock. I don't care! I am done." And I had a friend who refused to lower the rope. "Nope. Not done. You are done when you climb over the top of that ledge." He told me he would wait here all day. I knew he would. He encouraged and told me where to put my feet. Finally, I pulled myself over the top. I did it. That feeling of victory is what I wanted for my son.

I told him to get back here and get on the bike. I grabbed the back of his bike and ran beside him. I "ignored" his tears and begging. A couple of times we both tumbled and it truth be told I started to wonder myself. What if he doesn't get it? Soon, my husband came to the rescue. He took my son and began to talk with him and run beside him. I went into the kitchen to get supper ready. After about a half an hour they called me out. Will was doing better. He was staying up for a few pedals before crashing to the ground. It was a small victory for the day.

Day by day Will started to go out on his own. Trying and falling....but getting up. Trying again. I have to say I was more proud of him each time he picked his bike off the ground than when I finally saw him riding. Free of training wheels, peddling his heart out, and smile wider than I had ever seen it. He did it. "Look at me mom!" he shouted as he raced through a mud puddle.

As a matter of fact, he is now so good that this weekend at camp he was at the top of a very large hill and was ready to go down. "Umm..Will that is too high." "Let him go," my husband said. "But he will get hurt." "Let him go." So I did. I held my breath as he came down the hill, hitting bumps, scooting all around, and then landing on the bottom with a big smile on his face. Let him go.

I hope we both learned something. I want him to remember to never let go. If you want something, go after it. It is ok to fall. In falling we learn. But get back up. Keep fighting. Keep trying. I need to let go. Remember myself that it is ok to see him fall. Okay to see him get up. Because his success makes it all worth it.

Eve- The Blame game

I have thought about what I have and how to just stop. Another lesson I learned from Eve? The blame game will get you nowhere.
     My daughter was throwing herself on her bed, flailing her arms about, and crying uncontrollable. I stood in her doorway. Arms crossed and made no move to help. "She sat up and swept her curly locks out of her tear streaked face. "Can't you see what they have done to me?" she cried. "Who?" I asked her.  "Them! Luke and Bella. They play with my stuff that I set up and ruin my whole game." "Well, I don't think it is their fault that you are choosing to act like this."  "I am having a bad day. I didn't get much sleep last night, I don't feel good, they ruin everything, and I just..(sob)...want...(sob)....to be left alone." ::blink, blink::
     First I was taken a back at this mini teenage argument with my 6 year old. Oh my. She was really acting like this was the end of the world. But also, I was not liking how she was really to blame the whole world for her situation. I sat and waited until she had calmed down. Then we talked about blame. Whose fault was what. How we need to take responsibility for our actions, even if our little brother did "deserve" to get a doll thrown at him...sigh.
     I thought of this when I was finishing my Eve bible study. In Genesis Chapter 3, God asks Adam what is going on? (my paraphrase) Adams answer "The woman you put here with me-she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it." Ahhhh... Good one. Blame God. Basically, Adam is saying this is not my fault. If anything God it is your fault. You put this woman here. Or if you don't want to go there, then it is this woman. After all, SHE picked it and SHE handed it to me. What was I to do?
     Then God turns to Eve, "What is this you have done?" How does she answer. "The serpent deceived me and so I ate." Not my fault. The devil made me do it.
     One of the very concerning things I am noticing in our culture, in adults and children alike, is the lack of responsibility and the abundance of excuses.  Why is your room a mess? You let me stay up to late. Why is your homework not done? My mom didn't remind me. Of course there should be more of this in children. They are learning about taking responsibility. But in adults? Surly there comes a time when we are grown and take responsibility for our actions, for our choices.

     I saw a quote on facebook the other day that made me chuckle.



Don't tell my kids it says stupid. But seriously, sometimes it is your fault. It is my fault. I acted like a jerk. I could give you a host of reasons as to why it should be ok. I am very pregnant. My husband promised and her forgot. My kids won't listen. The list could go on and on. But when it comes right down to it I am responsible for me. Especially when I make the choice to go outside of God's will and sin. No one made me do it. I had a choice. I made it.

     Thankfully the Bible told me that this is not the end. My bad choice, my sin, is not the end. Admitting that yes I was wrong is not where my story ends.

"If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."  1 John 1:8,9  In short, I admit it, he forgives me. If I continue to play the blame game, I find no peace. It will always be someone or something else. I lose control of my choices and my life. I have handed over the reins to another. I don't want anyone having that kind of power over me. I make my choices. When they are wrong, I admit it. I blame no one but myself. I go to God to say "I am sorry" and we begin again.

     I wonder how things may have turned out had Adam and Eve gone to God looking for mercy instead of presenting excuses. But then we know the end of that story don't we. That is where this old and new combine. God would send His one and only son. That those who are looking for forgiveness will receive it. That his blood would cover anyone who knelt and asked. That means placing the blame where it belongs. On me.

Eve- Just Stop

Yesterday, I told you a little bit about my friend Eve.
     Lesson 2- Just stop
     My darling husband works-a lot. He also works very hard and long hours. His shifts are 12 hours long and he drives over an hour one way to work. At times, especially on certain shifts, my husband can come home in not a pleasant mood. In these times, I warn the children. Daddy is very tired and you should be extra nice. You would think I would take my own advice.
     For example, Scott comes home from day shift around 7 o cock at night. He has woke up at 3:30 and left the house by 4 a.m. He drives over an hour and gets to work around 5ish. Works, showers, and then drives home. Then he has to eat and go to bed to be up again at 3:30 a.m. Honestly, I would die if I kept his schedule. But when he gets home, I have not seen him all day. I have things to nag him ask him about. I have to talk to him.
me- "Did you call to get the dumpster removed?"
Scott- "I forgot I will call tomorrow."
me- " We are going to get charged extra."
Scott-"No we won't. I was busy today at work and I will call tomorrow."
Just stop
me- "Yes, we will get charged. I have the bill on the fridge. It has been a week."
Scott- "I know when we got it. I will take care of it tomorrow. There is nothing I can do now."
JUST STOP
Me- "I wish you would have told me you were going to be busy. I could have called."
Scott- now mad "I don't want you to call,. I said I would take care of it and I will."

JUST STOP
     You would think I would know when to stop. Sometimes I do. I said my peace, I hear a little voice telling me "enough already" and I stop. Life goes on and tragedy averted. But many times I don't stop. I just keep going. Yes, I heard the little voice. Yes I know better...but I just keep going anyway.
     The moment when Eve is looking at the fruit, we are shouting "For the love of everything, don't do it! Walk away! Run away! Just get away!" We in our self righteousness ask how hard would it have been to just put down the fruit and turn away. Hard indeed.
     Because sin has a way of tempting us where we need it the most..or the least. It hits fast and hard and looks so darn good. She had it all...but this. This would bring wisdom. Wisdom she wanted and that she thought she needed. JUST STOP.
     But she didn't and we don't. When we hear that little voice saying "walk away" and instead we walk into it. One of my bible study questions asked me what is one practical thing I can do to apply what I have learned. I wrote "just stop." Instead of rationalizing why I should or how I could, I should just stop. Instead of trying to get my point across and walking into a trap, I should just stop. Much easier said than done.
     But I will try. The next time I hear it, I will just stop. Before it is too late. Because stopping before a tragedy has begun is much easier than picking up the pieces to put them back together.

Eve- Look to what you have

     I don't like her. Not one little bit. Every time I heard her name, I kind of rose up. What was her problem? She had everything. And I mean everything. She gave it all up. How selfish, stupid (don't tell my kids I used that word), and naive. Unfortunately, due to her, we all with a double X chromosome have to suffer. As a matter of fact, I will be suffering any day now thanks to her. I just didn't get her.
   One of my friends asked me if I would be interested in doing a summer Bible study with her and some friends. Of course! We are doing "Bad Girls of the Bible." The first woman we look to...EVE. I must admit I sighed a little. Her. As I read her story, I begged her to stop. Of course we all see the train wreak coming. It is like one of our favorite movies we watch over and over. If we can just scream into the screen loud enough she will look at the snake, the apple, and then walk away. But she never does. She bites, offers it to her husband (don't get me started on him), and then comes the fall of humanity. We are all naked. Awe, Eve.
     Sometimes when I read things in the Bible that I have read a hundred times, I tend to gloss over them. What can I lean from this that I have not heard before. But this is the beauty of Bible Study.   I learned a lot. Three main ideas that I learned from my friend now- Eve.
     Lesson 1- Look to what you have
     Over four years ago, I stood in a place that I never intended to be. I was standing on my front porch watching the snow fall softly. I thought how odd that something so beautiful was on a day so ugly. I was attending my dad's funeral that day. He left us so suddenly. Massive heart attack. No warning, no goodbye. All I wanted to do was go back. Nothing in life causes you to wish you could go back like death. What bills was I worried about a week ago? What dreams was I frustrated because they were on hold? What was I complaining, thinking, or worrying about? My yesterdays suddenly looked so full of hope and promise. What was I looking at?
     My first lesson that Eve has taught me is to look at what you have today. It is our human fleshly nature to always want more I suppose. You get the promotion- you want another. You kids actually master the skill you have been so dutifully drilling- you need another. You bake cookies- you eat them all---wait...off track. Sometimes I am so busy looking to what I think my future should look like, that I miss seeing all that I have today.

     Like Eve. She had a Father who hand crafted her and her world. She had a husband who adored her. She had every good thing. But it wasn't enough. The snake, the deceiver, came. He told her to look at all she didn't possess. In her reality, it was the fruit. And she wanted it. She knew that God had said no, but she looked at the fruit. She was drawn away from what she was given to what she now wanted. What she now saw as the answer, her new purpose. Her future now with in her grasp.

     I see her look at the fruit, turn it in her hand, and perhaps see her reflection glistening in it. She wanted this new thing that was promised. Think of how it will change her life! And change her life indeed.

     But can I really blame her. How many times have I looked to something that looks to much better that my plain, ordinary life. Too many.

     Today I have a relationship with a loving, merciful, and compassionate God. Today I have a husband who thinks I hung the moon. This of course not being the case. Anyone will tell you he is my better half by far. Today I have four beautiful, healthy, wonderful children who I get to hug, kiss, and treasure. Today I am pregnant with a miracle that will bring such life to us all. Today we have great jobs that we both love and enjoy. Today I have a roof over my head, food in my refrigerator, the love and company of my mom, brothers, sisters, and in laws. Today I have friends who I love and could call on in an instant. Today I am blessed!

     Today Eve helped me see that what I have is good. Really good.

A perspective on dandelions

Last evening at the dinner table..

Luke- "Everyone has computers."
Scott- "Not everyone. Ya know when I was a kid, no one had a computer."
Rachel- "What did you do?"
Theresa- "Play outside like normal little kids."
Will- "I have heard of this. Ya know, I heard somewhere, back in the olden days, like in 1991, they didn't have computers. I heard you had to use sticks to count with in school."
Theresa- "Will! I had more than sticks to count with in school, and 1991 is not the olden days."
Will- "How about 1990. That was defiantly the olden days."

*******************************************************************
A little perspective goes a long way. In Will's mind, I am sure 1990 seems like an eternity away. After all, to him Christmas was another lifetime. But to me, 1990 is barley yesterday. I can bring up memories of elementary school, playing on the Bakerton ball field, and fishing with friends. The olden days? I think not.

Have you ever heard "it is all in how you look at it?" Of course it is. Let me give you one of my favorite example. One in which my age isn't being trampled into the ground!


The dandelion. I have always loved this flower. As a kid I would dance through the yard, gathering up as many as I can find. It was a good day when the dandelions had shed their yellow and became the wishing flower. A white puff of dreams blown into the wind. The more flowers I found, the more wishes there were. I know now as an adult I should hate the dandelion. It is a symbol of an unkept lawn. A weed if you will. As I walked through the store the other day, bags of dandelion killer were everywhere.

But I can't help it. I still love dandelions. I love the bright yellow scattered over a sea of green. I love it when my little ones bring me fist fulls of sunshine. I love watching them puff their little cheeks and blowing the whiskers to Santa. It is all a matter of perspective.

You know one of the things I love about Jesus. Really probably in my top 5. His different perspective of things. He never quite saw things the way others did. While other people looked on the religious leaders of the day with reverence and awe, Jesus saw a pit of vipers. When woman and children were seen as more of a nuisance and an inconvenience at best, Jesus saw the future and a hope. They saw a poor woman with a useless offering. He saw a mountain of faith. They saw sinners and scoundrels while he saw pain, sickness, and agony in need of a Healer. He saw purpose.

Jesus's perspective wasn't by far the popular one. He never would have won an election. Heck, they were shouting for his death a week after his praises. He wasn't about swaying popular opinion. He looked beyond the surface and saw what was hidden. He had the perspective of God.

Every day I need to pray for that perspective. Trials and hardships can weigh on the heart. Changes in plans can be seen as deal breakers. Sometimes if we take the time to step back and really look closely, we can see these times as opportunities for growth. I also need to stop trying to see things from the popular perspective. Or the way everyone else is looking at it. I need to see beauty where I once saw a field of useless weeds. Because really, things are all in how you look at it.

Once upon a time

Once upon a time….in the land of make believe….there was a fresh faced young girl who knew her life was going to be perfect. First, she would conquer the world in her career. She was choosing to work with children and was going to change the world one kid at a time. Her shining stars would grow brighter; her struggling ones would excel under her tutoring. It would be amazing. In the land of make believe.



Her marriage would be a fairytale. Her prince would come and fulfill her every wish and desire. He would be strong and handsome. Trustworthy and dedicated. No disappointment would grace her door. He would love her sacrificially and make sure all of her needs were met. And she would be the picture perfect wife. In the land of make believe.


Her children would rise up and call her blessed. They too would be a step above the rest. After all, mom and dad are perfect. Dinner on the table every night, homework completed without a fight or mess, socks all matched in the drawers, and a goodnight story and kiss to end every night. In the land of make believe.


Her house would be breath taking. But not in a huge overstated way. A comfortably, always clean way. Where people felt welcomed and refreshed. She would be the perfect host. Floor spotless and dishes done. Pictures of her perfect marriage and perfect children graced the walls. In the land of make believe.


However, the land of make believe was not to be. The funny thing about perfect is that the more you try to move towards it, the further it seems to get. It is like the end of the rainbow. Just when it seems in sight, it moves. It vanishes, or suddenly becomes something different.


The girl discovered that not all things are perfect. One of the most shocking discoveries was how selfish she herself was. Love didn’t seem to flow like it should but in silly childish starts and stops. Her frustrations continued as her laundry piles grew, the children fought and cried, her husband had his own priorities, and life seemed to spin out of control.  The dishearted girl….in the land of reality…..cried, “I can’t do it. This is not what I thought it would be.” And this is where her story turned.

In all reality, would perfect be all that wonderful. If I had perfect, would I know the feeling of triumph after so many failures? Would I know the feeling of hope and courage after rising after so many falls? Would I know the joy of sacrificial and unconditional love that flows from one imperfect person to another?

 But most importantly, it is in my weakness where Christ can be my strength. In the surrender of myself and all my perfect dreams where freedom can come. The Bible tells me “Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Cor 12:9-10


We often think of strength as in being in control. Of following your plan. But even on my strongest day, I am nothing but a vapor compared to the goodness and strength of my God. Why then do we carry it alone? Why must we stick to the plan? Lasting purpose and strength come from God alone. Transformation of my mind, body, and spirit are best left in His perfect hands. Certainly not mine. What I thought as perfect was fake. What I know as good and right is the path He has set out and that He oversees.

So I must let go. Leaving the world of make believe behind to face my world of reality. But in knowing that my reality with my God is better than a thousand days of "perfect."

in moments

A fickle kind of people

My favorite holiday has always been Easter. Even as a small child I remember going to church during Holy Week. We grew up Catholic and would attend Stations of the Cross at least once. I was young but listened to the story of betrayal and pain. I would say the prayers and I remember tears in my eyes. I would get so mad at those people yelling "Crucify him" at my Jesus. How could they? When just a week ago they cried out His praises? Terrible people.

I am a few years older and just a few wiser. My perspective has changed. I still listen to the story in awe. Tear still spring to my eyes and my throat closes. But terrible people? No. Fickle? Yes. Fickle meaning likely to change or not constant or loyal in affection. So familiar.

We as a people tend to sway. This way and that. Whatever way the "wind" takes us. We believe this today and that tomorrow. We fight for and believe in a cause until another catches out eyes. Relationships fade in and out. What catches our eye in this instant may not the next.

As I turn to those people who shouted Hosanna on Psalm Sunday, I also look to the same group who would cry for His blood less that a week later. What happened in a week? One of my theories is in relationship. It is much easier to walk away from an idea than a person. Those who called for the King that day, did they know Him? Or were they just swept in the excitement of an idea? Did they know the person, the heart of Christ or just who he claimed to be? No. They couldn't have.

But then there is also those who did know him. And while they were not crying out for so called justice, they were not exactly fighting for His freedom either. The Bible tells us that Jesus began this journey alone with tearful prayer in the garden. Although Peter strikes out at the soldier when he is first confronted, hours later he denies even knowing Him. All are silent. Silent by fear? Silent by lack of trust? Silent by uncertainty and lack of conviction. How could you be so wrong about something that looked so right?

Two groups of people. Those who never really knew Him, but rather shouted His praises one day and clamored for His death the next. The majority of the people. Content with religion bot relationship. More interested in the comfort of day to day and certainly not into fighting for justice.

But the second group does give me pause. The ones who sat at His feet. Easy enough for us to read the Easter Story and ask how? To claim that I would never. But do the doubts of the disciples plague us  today? Would fear stop us? Unmet expectations have us sitting silently as they lead our Savior away? Sometimes it is easy to sit in judgement of situations we have not yet found ourselves in.

Every year I ponder the Easter Story again. Such an amazing story of love. Relentless love on the part of our God. Willing to go to the very end for people who never deserved any of it to begin with. Psalm Sunday is a day I love. A day of praise. A day where we all gathered to say Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.

But then I remember the rest of the story. And pray. Pray that when the darkness comes, as it always does, I will remember the days of praise. That I will run back to His faithfulness. To His unfailing compassion, love mercy...and ultimately...His sacrifice.

What if...

Pennies and what matters most

My two year old daughter was a mess. Her little face was covered in dirt. Her clothes stained with orange Popsicle. Half her hair matted down with heaven only knows what while the other half stood straight up. So all in all she had a fabulous day. Now she was in the bathtub and she was not handing over what was tightly wrapped in her hand. My daughter had lots of "monies" and she was not giving them up to her mother.

Bella was clutching a fist worth of pennies. About 5 in her little dirt smudged hand. I promised to give them back as soon as bath was over. She pulled her balled up fist to her chest and shook her head back and forth. "no Mommy. My monies!" So I let her take her fortune with her into the bathtub. Only one minor snafu was when she dropped some of her gold treasure in the bubble tub and we had to go on an emergency search and rescue. After all, this was five pennies.

I took her to her bedroom and was getting her ready for night-night. Here is where I had to draw the line. No way was I letting her sleep with the monies. After a lot of convincing and a promise to give her another "money" in the morning, she finally agreed to open her hand and let me place her 5 treasured pennies on her dresser. She watched them the whole way into the bed and looked at them over her milk cup. I swear she had one eye on me and one eye on the pennies at all times. Just wanting to make sure that mom didn't take off with her fortune. First thing in the morning, Bella asked for her monies again. Putting them in her purse, on the table, in her tea party cup, or anywhere else she traveled. The pennies were worth a lot more than 5 cents to her!

The next day I received a message from a devotional group I belong to. And it looked like this....

 

And I loved it. And I thought about it. And it made me think of pennies.

You see I am a busy lady. I bet if you are reading this, you are pretty busy too. Lives are so very very full. We have places to be and things to do. Obligations that must be met and deadlines looming. Bills need taken care of and time just runs short. But what really matters in my life? What truly is LIFE and DEATH. I began remembering a scripture I memorized years ago-

Psalm 39:4-6 says:

“Lord, make me to know my end,
and what is the measure of my days,
That I may know how frail I am.
Indeed, the number of my days is small like the size of a hand.
And my age is as nothing before You.
Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor.”

Haven't we all heard the saying that "life is short." Truly it is. I couldn't begin to tell you how many times strangers have approached me when I am out and about with my kids and they tell me to cherish every minute. One time when I was with my four crazy loud wonderful darlings, a much older woman smiled at me as I was trying to get all of them to settle as I put the groceries on the belt. Luke was trying to see how close he could her his finger to the moving belt that sucked in, Bella was screaming that she must have that snickers bar that was only slightly out of reach, and Will and Rachel argued over who got to put the grapes up to pay for them. I remember being tired. And frustrated. The older woman looked at me, with tears in her eyes, and said "this too shall pass. One thing is for certain, they don't stay little for long."

And they won't. I am given such a small window of time here and now. Whats matters to me? What in my life will truly outlive me? Will it be the love for my husband? The dedication and determination of raising Godly wonderful children? Will it be the hand I offer to a friend or a word of comfort to a stranger? At times when so many things seem pressing into me at all times, I must remember what really matters. What counts for me. So much of it are simply pennies. I clutch at them. Worried that if I open my hands, all of my "pennies" will fall out. Then when I look close....really close....I see how next to worthless so much of it is. Why worry over things that are here today and gone tomorrow? Should I invest my time, energy, love, and talent into things of eternal value?
And this Lord, is my prayer
Psalm 90:12
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom”.

True Love

One of my new favorite blogs is over here...Marriage Life

I loved a section from a post that was wrote...
"We think…
Love is easy.
Love is gushy.
Love is exciting.
Love is uncontrollable.
Love is a feeling. It comes and goes.
Love is something I give to someone based on how they make me feel.
The problem with this is we have a skewed human view of what love is. It doesn’t even come close to God’s version.
Love is hard.
Love is sacrificial.
Love is an action.
Love is a choice.
Love involves commitment and cost.
Love is unconditional.

God is Love
Wow! Could it be more true? As Lent season is very quickly approaching, I was thinking on this and back to a sermon my father-in-law once preached  in the Easter Season. I know it was not long after I had Will. I know that because it focused on how much God loved us. He loved us SO much he gave his son. I looked down at my sweet, blue eyed perfect boy. He GAVE his son.

If you are most like most mamas (or daddies or aunties, uncles, grandmas, paps) I know, no one hurts our babies. Their tears are like knives to the heart and we would do anything to make everything ok. So give you my son? Never. I would say I would die for someone I love. But hand over my son for them? Hand you my heart. Never. I remember tears falling over my face, sliding down my cheek, and falling into his hair. Not my son. God your son? Trust me...I am not worth it.

And yet, He said I was. And you are. That is love.

We are to love like him. Pastor Paul (AKA Dad-in-law) did a sermon on should we love only the lovable? Nope. Why? (I knew the answer.) Cause we certainly are not always lovable.

I guess this is where V-day and Lent intersect this time. Loving someone, ESPECIALLY the person you have pledged your life to is not easy. It is not about feelings or as Marriage Life put it the way they make me feel. True love and lasting love is an action and a daily choice. God's love, true love, is the only things that lasts. that will endure. Our human ideas? Our expectations? Ours wants, needs, and love? It will fail you. Because it has no sustainability. Who can truly love someone like that all of the time?

Today I choose you. I choose to love you no matter the cost to me. I choose to stand next to you even when you don't ask or deserve it. I will not make decisions based on feelings that are fleeting and sometimes deceitful depending on mood, hormones, or phases of the moon. Feelings can lie about what is true. When (not if, but when)  it gets hard, draw me to you God. Help me again.

Today I will be God's hands and feet. Love you not with my ability but through the eyes of a Father who loved you so much he was willing to give the most precious thing imaginable.

Make over

As I walked onto the porch I knew I was in trouble.The porch which I would refer to as "Freddy Krueger" drive was sagging, broken, and paint peeling. Did I mention it was a red brick house and the roof of the porch was painted pink?? The porch was, once upon a time, green. My husband thought the wrap around porch was amazing. We approached a (heaven help me) blue door. The sight seeing continued to included a room painted with white and pink stripes (uneven of course), a floor that could give you splinters, and a bright orange family room. I should mention I am only mentioning a few of the highlights.

My husband was sold. He told me that our future home had so much "potential." He could do so much with it. After moving in, we quickly figured out how hard it is to move from potential to wonderful. Lots of planning and work. We moved in 4 and a half years ago. We ripped off the porch thanks to some family help and repainted it brown. Redid the door, the floor, and painted almost every room. This weekend we are working on something I have been dreaming of....my bedroom. The paint is an awful dark green and a ceiling trim that is worse. We are going to paint and then get a new bed set!

Last night, exhausted  from watching Scott work *wink*, I finished the book I had been reading. I looked over to my stand and say the book I had bought myself at Christmas. "Just Like Jesus"  by my buddy Max Lucado. I did read the first chapter. Then I got so nervous I put it down.

You see, in the first chapter it asks how your life would look if Jesus took over for a day. A whole 24 hours. Would you do anything different? Would you change the way you talked or thought? Would you take on different tasks and forgo others?

It made me nervous because it brings the question of how much does my faith influence my daily life? Of course I go to church, pray with my kids, make the fact that I am a believer well known. BUT what about in the little things? Do I still harbor a heart of worry? Do I still act in a way that I wouldn't if Jesus were standing there? Am I devoting my time to things that have an eternal impact?

What does this have to do with Freddie Kruger Ave? A make-over, be it a porch, bedroom, or person, takes a plan and lots of work. I thought last night how I wish a change of heart was taken care of as easy as a trip to the hardware store. Sure, it takes more elbow grease to paint trim than attack a bad attitude. But give me elbow grease over self control any day.

I, of course because I am me, begin to argue, whine, talk to God. I try. It is so hard. But do you see what THEY do? I kept reading and Max made quite the statement. It I am a believer I have it already. Jesus has already given me a heart like his. I just have to "tap" into that power. Flip the switch. Slowly. One step at a time.

A plan. To keep reading "Just Like Jesus" even when it makes me uncomfortable. Next step. How about applying a little of what I read. Lots of work? Absolutely.

Thinking about Hot Chocolate

Rachel from time to time has bad dreams. I can always hear her coming. She wakes up screaming and running from her room into mine and jumps into my bed. Last night was one of those nights. Scott had already left for work at 4:00 a.m. WIll had also found his way into my bed. I moved over and wrapped my arms around her.

Rachel- "Mommy I was so scared."
Me- "I know."
Rachel- "Can you tell me about the happy things."

Rachel and I play this game when she has nightmares. At first, I wasn't really sure how to help her. Then I asked her to think about the happy things. I would list them for her. I would talk about fun things like playing barbies or dress-up. She sometimes smiles with her eyes closed. Soon she drifts back off to sleep. With the happy images, not her scary nightmare.

Last night I told her about building snowmen with carrot noses and coal for eyes and mouth. Having a snowball fight with her brothers and hiding behind the swing set. I told her about hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. Then she drifted back to sleep.

This made me think of a quote that I received through Joyce Meyer Ministries through Facebook the other day. "Cast out wrong thoughts! You don't have to think whatever falls into your head!"

I have always been a worrier. Thoughts will randomly pop into my head. Situations, past mistakes, and fears. Often times I dwell on them. Think on them. What can I do about them? And often the answer is nothing, and yet, I still dwell.

The answers is to cast them out. Don't think on these things. Let it go. Put some "happy thoughts" in my head. To me, happy thoughts are not snowball fights and snowman, although the hot chocolate would be up for consideration. But I can think about my awesome family. The blessing I walk through everyday. Past victories and successes. Maybe even have a little day dream that involves warm, sandy beaches and burring my toes in the hot sand!

The Bible tells us “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8).

It is my choice what I focus on. This doesn't mean I don't deal with the curve balls and sometimes derailing things life can throw at me, but when I can, I think of good things. Things excellent and worthy of praise. Things that draw me back to the Father and how thankful I am.

model

I have never had any desire to be a model. I know, I know. I sooo have the potential. Except I love to eat. And that whole when lots of people are looking at me I break out in hives and lose my ability to speak...and breath. But because I am a mama, I am a model. Someone is always watching.

We have been introducing Isabella to the potty. Twice today she sat down and peed in the potty. But the thing is, she needs someone sitting on the big potty beside her. Some people like magazines or books, but Bella likes company to sit down with and have a chat. Someone to show her how it is done. Tonight when Scott went to pick up the kids from VBS, Bella came into the kitchen and said "pee mom." I walked into the room and she sat on her potty. She tapped the big potty beside her and said "pee mom." So I sat. She looked at me and smiled. Then she balled her little fists up and began to make weird and loud noises. She gets that from her father of course. She didn't go that time, but she got up and wiped. Smiled and got her diaper.

When I was pregnant with each of my kids, I wondered about what they would look like. Would they have my eyes or Scotts? What color of hair? When people looked at my child would they see me? Would they see him? What never occurred to me is who they would sound like.

Imagine my pride when I am in the next room and I hear my children playing nicely. I hear them calling each other the pet nicknames I call them. When we pray together, I hear them repeat my phrases and thankfulness. I hear them talk tell other people that "Mommy says we should share cause that shows that we care about other people." too sweet.

Imagine my horror when my kids are not being so sweet and sensitive. When I hear them repeat something I shouldn't have said. When I hear the TONE in the voice. Sounds just like her mother. Her model. Her example.

The Bible says in James 1:26 "If you claim to be religious but don't control your tongue, you are just fooling yourself, and your religion is worthless." Worthless. Pretty strong stuff. I sometimes hear celebrities say I never asked to be a role model. Maybe not. But you did ask those same kids to buy your CD. To make a hero out of you. And therefore, you are a role model. I may not have asked for my kids to copy my every move.....but they will. It sobers you to think about what will come out of my kids mouth. What messages am I sending?

I started thinking of this after hearing a Family Like CD on the words of our mouth. I have two books I am reading about the power of the tongue. The power of words. What comes out of my life can carry the power of life or death the Bible says. I can choose to speak mercy or I can condemn. I can choose to look for the goodness or I can join in the complaining and the whining. I can choose what is coming out of this mouth.

Sometimes parenting can overwhelm me. When I look at the vast responsibility I carry daily I feel so small. I feel so unprepared. How can I, a sinful, selfish human ever set a decent example for my children. These beautiful people given to me to raise up? It is then that I have to go to Jesus. For help. For guidance. Sometimes for back-up! I curl up at His feet and ask my example for some help. For some patience. For some good, life giving words to speak. That way when I am in the next room listening to my kids, I will be smiling.

choosing to be

Last night Rachel and I were laying in bed and discussing how we are all suppose to be working on "being nice" and "loving even when we don't feel like it." She was having "bad day." She threw her little hands up and said "I am trying to be kind but people just won't leave me alone. I try to go and be by myself and be kind and then people come and bug me!" Aaahhh...from the mouths of babes.

It is easy to be kind when it is just me and my coffee. Then you go adding all kind of people and things get a little hairy. But since I read this article by Janel, I can't stop thinking. ( a post of its own)! I need to get to the "heart" of the problem. And not just with my kids! With myself as well.

I understand my daughters laments. Sometimes it is so hard to be kind! If they would just leave me alone! Like when I am sick and my kids are all screaming and fighting. When my husband has forgotten to tell me to write that on the calendar. When I am forgotten by others. When my house is a mess. (you don't see the connection??)

When you come home from a very long day and you just want to get the kids fed and in bed and the neighborhood girl knocks on your door. Way past playing time. I am grumping as husband opens the door. She needs a flashlight. So Scott goes and gets her one. I grump on. (see how well my mouth challenge is going???) To be fair, I must defend myself in my head. He doesn't get it. The kids set the center piece on fire at the baby shower today! Rachel spilled a whole cup of coffee, when I didn't even get one sip, all over the table, floor, and chairs at the baby shower! I am sick-again- in my stomach. The list went on and on. Then my husband comes in and says "you know, we might be the only Jesus she ever sees." On that note, it became different.

My attitude is so important because who knows who my life is affecting. I know it affects my family. It affects my classroom. My friends and other family. Even though sometimes I might not feel like being kind, I need to choose to be kind anyway. Loving when I don't feel like loving. Even though I may have a list of good reasons not to be, like my little Rachel "They just won't stop being annoying"- her brothers.

Sometimes we don't know what list the other person is carrying. We don't know what is challenging their faith today. When we seem the most "annoying" that is when we need others kindness the most. I need to practice being kind. Loving even more when I don't feel like it.

self reflection

"It is never to late to become the person you might have been." - George Elliot

I took a class this summer called "Motivat*ing Students to Re*ad." One of the themes throughout the online 3 credit death trap aka interesting lecture was self reflection. The class opened and closed and did about 10 self reflectiong papers throughout. I was all self reflected out. I was about sick of looking at me thank-you very much!

But you never can underestimate the power of a mirror. At the end of the school year, a friend and I had a great conversation. We are both working mothers of young children with husbands and a host of other responsibilities. We were talking about everything that always needs done and the conversation slid to our faith. We are both Christians and we talked about how of the thing that should be first and foremost in our lives is so easily pushed aside. And that is just not right.

This summer I have been doing a lot of thinking...pondering...reading tons of books...and doing some self reflecting. I have seen that, man I need a lot of help! But where oh where to begin. So I prayed about it and I am starting with my mouth.

This is an area where I struggle. I am a pessimist. If something is going to go wrong, I think it will. I also tend to be loud when I am "asking" for everyone else to knock it off. It can get pretty crazy here at times to say the least. I have decided to check my speech. I will ask "do I have to say this?" If the answer is yes, then what is the best way to say it and where. The plan is to try and cut my speech in half (or at least tame it a bit) and make sure what I am saying needs to be said! For, example, calling Scott at work to tell him he forgot to take out the garbage and I had to do it...blah blah blah..is probably not necessary at that point and time.

"The tonuge also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and itselfset on fire by hell." James 3:6

"But the things that proceed out of the mouth some from the heart and those defile the man." Matt 15:18

This does not mean that I am going to succeed all the time. Heck, sometimes i have been awake for 10 minutes and need a do-over! I lose it too. But then I need to remember my plan and why I am doing this. I want to be a representation of Christ to my family. I can't so that if my mouth keeps on running ahead of me. I need to close my mouth.

To make things simple, I have also decided that at times I just need to be silent. When I am tired/stressed/overwhelmed (uh-oh I may never speak again), I just need to stop and listen. Which has stressed out my husband. He wants to know "what is wrong with you? are you ignoring me? Did I do something? Are you mad?" No, I am just self reflecting...although I don't think that will do much to clear up the confusion for him.....

Canada?

As I am climbing in Will's bed for him to fall asleep....

Me- "Will, we are going to memorize a new scripture. It is Pappy Demi's favorite."
Will-" What is it?"
Me- "Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. I as in William Demi can do all things like go to bed by myself or be nice to my brother through Him which is Jesus who gives you the strength."
BIG PAUSE
Will- "All sure is a lot of things. You mean I could even drive to Canada?"
Me- "Go to sleep William."

names

I was sitting at my mom's kitchen table yesterday and saw a card my Aunt had sent her. It was a card with her name on it and the meaning of her name. Then it had a prayer for her. I love these little cards. I always look for my name, my husbands names, my kids name on them. Seeing if they spelled Theresa properly with the "a." Rachel without the "a."

My mom has always hated her name. If she was a boy, her parents were going to name her "Carl" after the priest. But she was a girl. So they changed it and made her "Carla." Which I think is nice but she hates.

Of course I never liked my name. No one ever has my name. Which if you have a name that is very common you would think that is great. But I always felt odd. And of course every time anyone heard it they would say "like mother Theresa?" Or like "St. Theresa?" Actually I was named after my mother's cousin...who was names after St. Theresa.

Theresa actually means harvester. How pretty and feminine is that?? I always searched and search for a different meaning to my name. A different little card that would tell me that my name meant "amazingly talented" "sophisticated" "divine." But no. Theresa=Harvester. But when I became a Christian my name took on a new meaning
"He told them "The Harvest is plentiful , but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into His harvest field." Luke 10:2

When I was naming my children, as we all do, I put a lot of thought into it. After all...this was going to be their NAME! It was what people would think when they saw them. They would write it 5 billion times. The problem was...I didn't know who these little angels would become? Would they need a strong name? A lover of nature? A poet? An intellect?

We named our first born after a pirate. Now, Scott will tell you this is not true. If was after our grandfathers, but I think the fact that Will Turner was quite popular at the time had a lot to do with it. We had our William. My first born daughter was to have a different name right up until the end. Then my husband says..."I think I like Rachel." Rachel???? And so she was named, our "little lamb."

With my third child, I put my foot down. I get to name this one. Right from the ultra sound I called my little boy Lucas Scott. A strong name with a touch of his dad. When I found out my fourth child was a baby girl I pulled out the name I had saved in my heart for her, Isabella. My Bella.

Isn't it amazing that God knows our name? Not just that he knows our name like the IRS does, but truly it is written on the palm of his hand. With that name comes who we are. Not just what our name "means" but who we are. All of our parts. The triumphs as well as the failures. The good and the bad. Just as a parent looks at our child's heart so he looks at ours. He looks past what we want to give us what we need. He gathers us up to our heart.

It is nice when someone important knows your name. To hear it called from important people. They know MY name. To hear our name called from graduation podiums or awards cerimonies. But who better to know you that the creator of the universe? God knows my name. And he calls me. He knows me. He loves me.

"See I have written your name on the palm of my hands." Isaiah 49:16

run......

I am not a runner. My most dreaded day in all of middle school was the mile run. Wow- what a horrible experience. Worst than the last slow dance in the middle school gym and finding yourself standing alone. Worse than the time I got hundred on my algebra final and the teacher had to point it out...to ...the ...whole....class.

The Mile. My gym teacher would line us all up. With her dreaded stop watch she would scream go. And we all went. Of course we all started by sprinting. This was middle school of course and the goal is to always stay with the crowd. Then we would have people (like me) slowly dropping out to walk. Feeling like your heart was about to be ripped from your chest and being absolutely certain you are going to die. When the "fast" girls would hit the finish line, my gym teacher called out their time. She also had a garbage bag positioned right by the finish line so the girls could puke. Seriously. Is it any wonder I was in the middle....at the end. And it was ever so embarrassing to have your TIME screamed into the field. Nice....I am sure that would not be allowed with today's privacy laws! ;)

I was so happy to get to high school where there was no mile. Oh wait. There was the cross country training. And swimming. Oh, co-ed swimming. shudder.....

I never liked running. Never. When I wanted to get in shape (AKA I had a baby) I joined Curves. I watched what I ate. I rode a bike. I went for 3 mile walks. I did not run. That, my friends, was akin to torture.

And one day I lost my mind. I thought, hey, maybe I should try running. Keep in mind, I had just had my 4th child and was in worse shape than my grandma. Although Grandma Yackuboskey is pretty tough..... I got to thinking about the heart disease that was raging in my family and frankly I don't want to die. Maybe I should try to get in shape? Be able to climb the stairs without getting winded? Actually lose the baby weight this time?

I got on a treadmill. Something was wrong. Oh yeah! I should probably wear shoes. So I put on my shoes. With socks even. And I ran. For about a minute. I felt the old "I think I am going to die." So I walked for a minute. I continued this for about 20 minutes. Got off soaked in sweat and prayed for the angels to come carry me away. The next day I hurt. But I got back on the treadmill.

I am taking a class on motivation. It is centering on reading, however I find it interesting that I can apply it to my running. Today I ran for 30 straight minutes outside and only had two mini stops. That is a great accomplishment for this non-runner. I was motivated by my desire to make a commitment and stick to it. By my desire to prove that I can do something I thought I never could. My desire to do it was bigger than the fear telling me I couldn't.

Did I think I could do it? Nope. Did I want to stop? You bet ya. My legs were screaming at me and my lungs.... But I thought to myself "you can do this. Just think about the end. Think about how proud you will be." Every time my legs were aching and I gave my self permission to stop, I couldn't. I knew I had to do it. I had to keep going. So I did. And I made it home.

Sometimes things in life seem so impossible. How will I ever..... But we do. We put on our running shoes and do it. Can we stop? Sure. Should we? Absolutely not. Because the pain we are feeling now will be nothing when we get to that final victory. That feeling of "I overcame that." We give up too easily. If something is hard we quit. I don't want to quit. I want to do it.

"In a race all the runners take part in it, but only one of them wins the prize. Run, then, in such a way as to win the prize. Every athlete in training submits to strict discipline; he does so in order to be crowned with a wreath that will not last; but we do it for one that will last forever." 1 corth 9:24-25

And while I am certainly no marathon runner, tonight I was a runner. With cute pink shoes and a new MP3 player!

are you awake?

My first born angel has never been a sleeper. In fact I will call him the "anti-sleeper." When he was first born I tried everything. Bassinet, swing, cuddle-U, bed, floor. front, back, side. with milk, without milk. Everything. He never slept more than 20 minutes. My mom said "Theresa he is a baby. He has to sleep sometime." So she borrowed him. She brought him back. "Theresa! This baby never sleeps!" Exactly. At 2 months he will....4 months...HALF A YEAR. Nope.

And frankly he is 6 and still does not like to fall or stay asleep. He struggles. His newest obsession is that he hates to be the only one wake. If his sister falls asleep first, he wakes her up. nice. So it has come down to me coming to his bed and laying with him. And I wait for it......"Mommy, will you stay awake until I am asleep." "Yes, Will."

He asks the same question every night. Like, tonight may be different. I may change my mind. Sneak in a winker before him. But nope. Every night he asks and every night I tell him the same thing. I will stay awake until you are asleep. Sometimes that is enough. Sometimes he asks again. But I stay with him. Until his little body relaxes and he begins to breath deep. Then I can sneak out to my own bed.

I love to sleep. But when he first started this I was reminded of me decades ago. My own dad was a night owl. Mom always went to bed early, but my dad would be up into the night watching the news and then the nightly talk shows. I would fall asleep up stair listening to his TV. If I needed a drink I would be able to see by the glow of his TV. He would look over as I ran to the kitchen. I knew he was awake. So I could sleep. Did I fear someone breaking in or monster under the bed and think my dad being awake would send them running? Maybe..... But really it was the comfort of knowing that while I was resting, someone bigger than me was keeping watch. I felt safe.

Now, that I am the "someone bigger" I often fail big time in the fear department. Sure, I can protect my son from the boogieman (as long as he is pretend right? Cause that would really mess me up!) but am I big enough to protect him from illness? I can make sure he is fed and cared for, but what about his trials in life? Are my arms that big?

Since those nights many years ago, my dad now is watching over me from a new place. So who is up to chase away my boogieman? I have my own worries and woes which I am not big enough or strong enough to handle.

I will never leave you nor forsake you. Hebrews 13:5

It is nice to know that even when everyone in my house is asleep there is someone who is watching out for us. Someone who promised to look out for us. Someone who is bigger and stronger than me. And in knowing this I can rest.

In my own times of quiet desperation (and the not so quiet), I know that Christ has walked with me. He has held me up at funerals and in my bedroom. He has walked through the valley of hopelessness and heartfelt pain. Did he take away the pain. No. Did he take away the sting of rejection. Not at first. He walked it with me.

When I first became a Christian, I read a scripture that talked about God holding our right hands. Being 16, I made this my thing. When I felt alone I would reach out my right hand and squeeze. When I felt scared I would reach out my right hand and squeeze. I knew he was there. I wasn't alone. And that has made all the difference. Life is easier when you have a friend to hold your hand through it.

And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Matt 18 :20