Faithful

      I’ve found myself reflecting on God’s faithfulness in my life a lot lately.  Almost one year ago to the day, I received a phone call from my husband that drastically changed my life. 

      I sat sobbing on our used couch in the quiet darkness of our cozy Nebraska home, thankful that our two-month-old daughter and two-year-old son hadn’t put up a fight at bedtime tonight.  I didn’t have the physical or emotional energy to deal with it.  The realization kept washing over me in waves, I was moving to Nowhere, Illinois…closest Target over one hour in any direction.  As I cried I prayed.  I prayed God would give me the resolve and the courage to follow where we felt He was leading—although I was sure He had to be geographically confused since I had explicitly said Illinois was the last place I wanted to move.

      In the weeks to follow, I grieved the loss of the good life (that’s a Nebraska reference for my Illinois friends), and tried to face the reality that I would soon be an Illinoisan..Illini…does anyone really know what to call people around here?

      In those weeks, I found myself doing a lot of crying and a lot of praying.  As I fought to keep life as normal as possible for a two-year-old whose world had already been turned upside down by the arrival of the dark-haired attention-stealer we called “Sissy”, I continued to pray.  I prayed as I painted.  I prayed as I ripped up carpets, cleaned, organized, and prepared to sell our house…during a Nebraska winter at Christmas time.  I prayed as I was an exhausted mom to a newborn and a new potty trainer.  I prayed in the absence of my husband, my teammate.  I prayed as we said painful goodbyes to our church family and the place where we’d grown as a family.  I prayed as I said goodbye to my parents.  I prayed as I kissed my sweet niece and held back tears as I clung to my sister and brother.  I prayed as we pulled out of our driveway for the final time and I prayed as we made the long journey to our new home.  I prayed as we unpacked and as we adjusted to our new life.  I prayed.

      This past year hasn’t always been pretty…and it certainly hasn’t brought all of my best qualities to the surface.  In fact, a lot of the last year has been challenging and difficult, but God doesn’t care that I didn’t do it perfectly or that the odds often seem stacked against us.  He was and is faithful.  He walked before us, patiently, lovingly, doing the impossible and working for our good time and time again.

      Our home was on the market just over one week and we had a buyer!  I made it through the newborn stage of my daughter’s life with at least some of my sanity still intact.  Ronan (and I) survived potty training and I’m happy to report both seem to be thriving. What was a difficult year for our marriage, God provided strengthening and unity. God extended our “family” by giving us another amazing church to serve and grow with. We have been blessed tremendously by our new community and home.  The friendships we have formed are among our most treasured…and our friends have even let us keep our Nebraska title by referring to us as their “adopted Nebraska family”…take that Illinoisan/Illini! 

      One year ago I couldn’t have imagined (even in my wildest dreams) that I would ever be able to say that I am truly grateful that God stretched and grew us the way He has over the past year. And while I still don’t understand camouflage, Cardinal baseball, or the lack of football in our new home, I truly am grateful that God brought us here…even if it was some sort of clerical error.  Without this adventure, we would have missed out on so many blessings, but most importantly, without it we would not have been able to witness God’s faithfulness and presence in our daily lives.

Lord, I praise you for your faithfulness.  Thank you for this great adventure.  Thank you for Your plan in our lives.  When challenges arise and uncertainty is at hand, remind me that You are faithful.  

      

Skunk Spray

I’ve previously written about the peace and serenity that is offered in country living.  Perhaps it’s just the shock of moving from a well-developed neighborhood in the center of a large city to the tranquility of being in the middle of nowhere, but we continually find ourselves in awe of our new surroundings.  Our daily walks are much less about how many blocks to reach our destination and much more about scenery and stillness.  We don’t find ourselves leery of “that one house” and often find ourselves stopping to chat with the few neighbors we do have. 

 

Ahh...the freedom of country living

One of the things both of the kids have really grown to love is the wildlife in our area.  We have seen more creatures this past summer than in all our years combined in Omaha.  We have been serenaded by coyotes and bullfrogs, marveled at caterpillars, turtles, and toads, spied on hummingbirds and salamanders, and daily sightings of deer.  We’ve even had the pleasure of observing (from afar) a mother skunk with several babies…which leads me to my next point.

One of our many wildlife friends

As enjoyable as country living is, it doesn’t come without its own disadvantages…some of which really stink!

This afternoon as the kids and I were playing outside, I noticed the dog had gotten out of the yard.  And while this is a disadvantage in the city because you have to wildly chase your dog through your neighbors’ lawns and in front of moving vehicles with fistfuls of hotdogs and processed lunch meat, sweetly calling after them through clenched teeth (because what you really want to yell would have to be censored on HBO)pretending you enjoy this game of hide and seek with your canine friend all while your neighbors are watching from their windows and wondering what kind of lunatic moved in three doors down  (I may or may not be speaking from experience), country living allows your dog a bit more freedom to roam. 

The frog whisperer

So, I let the dog have his freedom, the kids and I continued soaking up the sun, and my sanity stayed intact.

I saw the dog leaping about and barking in the pasture behind our house…then we smelled it, that incredibly offensive odor that can be mistaken for none other than skunk. At first it was just a slight smell that I was sure we could tough out. After all, we are country people now.  But as the dog continued to bark and flail himself around, the smell grew increasingly pungent. (For you city dwellers, let me just tell you that the few times you’ve crossed the skunk smell in your car while passing through a rural area and you complained…you have no idea!) I thought my eyes were going to shrivel up and fall out of my head.

I gathered up the kids and made a beeline for the door, called my husband and asked what on earth you are supposed to do with a dog that’s been sprayed by a skunk and waited the next 45 minutes as the dog continued to battle against a skunk in our backyard. That’s right.  He stayed.  He continued to bark and terrorize while being sprayed.  This just goes to prove my point that Moose is not the brightest crayon in the box. 

After bathing him several times with a box a baking soda, a gallon of vinegar, a can of tomato soup, dog shampoo, and being verbally accosted, he has been banished to the basement and the candles are burning. 

My apologies to our neighbors who have been attacked all afternoon by the powerful skunk smell upon walking outdoors.  I’ll completely understand if you want us to get rid of the dog…the skunks on the other hand are your problem!  

Break Dancing and Hindrance Techniques

This week is the first in which we have decided to begin the countdown to weaning our youngest.  I say “we” in the same sense one says, “We need to clean out the garage.” While these pronouns imply a sense of teamwork, something you and I will do together, what I really mean is, “You need to clean out the garage.” So when I say we are in the beginning stages of weaning, what I really mean is, “I have decided to begin the countdown to weaning our youngest.”

      Breastfeeding my children has afforded me the luxury of not having to diet after my children were born.  While I wasn’t one of those women who used it as a license to be a glutton, it did spare me from having to closely watch every morsel that touched my lips.  In addition to not having to be a calorie-Nazi, I was also able to work out at my leisure. 

      While I walk several times a week in effort to maintain some level of physical fitness, this week I decided I needed to push myself a little harder and maybe even mix up my routine by adding in some different work outs in order to offset the changes that would occur once Emersyn is weaned. 

      My kids were happily playing so I saw this as my perfect opportunity to squeeze in a new workout. I put in my Turbo Jam DVD and the second Chalene greeted me with too much enthusiasm…my workout was over.

      I’m not kidding.  My kids literally dropped what they were doing and were drawn to the TV screen like a mosquito to a bug zapper.  They couldn’t look away.  In the beginning they smiled adorably and clapped along.  Ronan joined in mimicking the moves the best he could.  This action soon morphed into break dancing directly in front of the screen with several shouted warnings of, “Look out, Mom!”, as he spun by me. 

Emersyn gleefully clapped her hands and bounced along until she realized this dance party wasn’t going to end any time soon.  She took the stand-in-front-of-mom-so-she-can’t-move-without-knocking-me-over approach. I quickly found a distraction for her and made an attempt to get back into my workout. I’ll give my daughter credit for being persistent.  She was right back at my legs in 5.7 seconds balancing in effort to stand as her mother continued to bounce around and punch at the air like a lunatic.

If all of the break dancing and hindrance techniques weren’t enough to make this workout completely useless, how about the fact that at one point the dog joined the revolt?  I’m not kidding.  The dog actually came and stood so close to me that I could feel him against my leg. 

About midway through, I found myself laughing.  I’m not sure if I was laughing because I found the situation all that humorous or if it was the result of feeling like a mental patient.  Either way, I’m pretty sure I read that laughing is good for your abdominals, so that may have been the most effective part of my workout.

I learned something this week.  I learned that the reason moms don’t work out isn’t because they are lazy, out of time, or even lack motivation…it’s because they have children!

 If you happen to be one of those rare species of mothers who get in an honest-to-goodness workout more than once a week, rock on, girlfriend!  And wear a bikini for me…because at this rate, I won’t be ready for swimsuit season anytime in the next 10 years.

 To the mom whose only success at working out is when her kids are strapped into a device in which they cannot escape…and to the mom who has decided that there are not enough endorphins in the world to make up for the effort that is needed to exercise with young children…you’re not alone!

**When I was able to recover from my laughing fit, I grabbed my camera to document the absurdity that was unfolding before me.  For your viewing pleasure…my non-workout…**

Everyone's feeling good at the beginning...

Ronan learning the moves...

Ronan break dancing...

Will this dance party ever end?

Holding onto my leg in a valiant effort to stop the madness...

If the kids can't stop you, maybe I can...

Finally...it's over!  You've come to your senses.

Cracked

     I recently found myself wanting to crawl in the crib with my 11-month-old for a morning nap.  I was completely drained.  I had no energy, no motivation, and my patience was wearing thin. Thankfully Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood has been added to Netflix so my three-year-old was completely and totally absorbed while I tried to pull myself together.

     The idea of being drained came to mind again as I was reading my Bible the other day.  The charges of infidelity are again being brought against Israel.  God is again using a prophet to remind Israel of what they have given up…his glory in exchange for worthless, man-made idols. (Jeremiah 2:11)

     God speaks to the Israelites saying, “My people have committed two sins: they have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water.” –Jeremiah 2:13

     This idea of a broken cistern continued to stay with me, playing over and over in my mind, so I decided to do a little investigating of my own.  Enter, Google.  (How anyone got anything done before Google entered the scene is beyond me.) 

     To quote Dorothy Ann from The Magic School Bus (also a new addition to Netflix…don’t judge me). “According to my research…”, cisterns were dug in ancient Israel as a type of reservoir.  The summer months proved to be long and dry for the Israelites and because of the soft limestone in and around Jerusalem, digging these well-like cavities made perfect sense. During times of rain, the cisterns could collect the run-off water from roofs and surface water.  The people developed a type of plaster to coat the cisterns in an effort to prevent the water from seeping out.  Cracks were prone to develop though, resulting in the drainage of the cisterns.

     As I began to read more about these ancient cisterns and consider verse 13, I was struck with the idea that I have at times forsaken God’s glory to dig my own cisterns…and end up completely drained.

     I know that God has a plan for me.  I know he has my best in mind.  I even believe that God desires good things for my life, but somewhere along the way, I give him up for my own desires, plans, hopes, and dreams…I begin digging cisterns.

     For the most part, I think most of my cisterns were actually started with the best of intentions.  I want to be a loving wife, patient mom, good friend, take care of my body, be successful in my ventures. All of these things are good.  In fact, I think that God even wants these things for me.  I would even go as far to say these things are biblical. 

     The trouble with these cisterns though is that once they’ve been dug, they have to be filled.  So, I dig my cistern and fill it with my hopes, dreams, plans, and desires.  I may even be able to keep it full for a while, but eventually a crack will form and my cistern will be completely drained and leave me empty.

     It seems like such a hopeless situation.  I mean my hopes of having these good relationships and being successful are noble.  Heck, they might even qualify as godly…so what’s the deal?  Why is God trying to stand in my way?  Why is he all up in the Israelites’ business anyway?

     The problem isn’t that we have hopes and dreams or plans.  The problem is that we’ve forsaken God in the search for those things.  The problem is that when we leave God out of the equation, we are left doing these things on our own strength, our own energy, our own…and eventually our own strength and our own energy is going to be drained, it isn’t going to be enough to maintain the well.  Or we end up as my friend Corinna would say, “cracked”. (And if you’ve been reading my blog long enough, you know that I am definitely cracked…) Our lack of strength and our abundance of cracks only leave us one place…empty.

     The answer lies between where we forsake God and where we begin to dig and fill our cisterns.  God tells us He is, “the spring of living water”(verse 13).  A spring is a source of flowing water.  It isn’t replenished by our efforts or drained because of cracks.  When we tap (no pun intended) into the source of living water, the spring of living water, he can fill us to overflowing.  Through him, we have the strength to be a loving wife, a patient mom, a good friend, take care of our bodies, be successful in the ventures we take, and then some.  We are no longer limited to our own ability, but depend on God who, “…is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us…” –Ephesians 3:20

     So what do you say?  Are you tired of wasting your own energy?  Let’s throw our shovels aside and save our energy for something else…like say, new additions on Netflix? (Kidding!)

Lord, forgive me for forsaking you and digging cisterns that hold nothing.  Lead me to your living water that never fails.

     

Are Ye Kiddin' Me, Matey?

   I have previously written about my desire to be part of the Pinterest Mommy Club (PMC).  I have also previously written about my shortcomings to prevent my induction into said club.  Try as I may, I just can’t seem to figure out the formula these women use to get their kids to look at the camera and smile all at the same time, finish projects that are worthy of a photo shoot, and keep my house clean…all at the same time.

     My son just turned three years old and as ashamed as I am to say it, I saw this as my prime opportunity to prove myself to the president of PMC. I knew she would be won over not only by my perfectly executed preschool soiree, but my charm and charisma would lead the way to my initiation in one of the most exclusive mommy clubs known to motherkind.

     Like all good PMC members, I began my search for the perfect party in no other place than the namesake of our club, Pinterest.  Like most other active three year old boys, my son is obsessed with two things: bugs and pirates.  I began my search there, pinned the adorably perfect party ideas, and like any time and budget conscious mom, decided on the theme that would require the biggest amount of effort and the most amount of money.

     So began our month and a half long process of planning, purchasing, and producing the perfect pirate party.  

     When the day of the most highly anticipated event of our son’s short life arrived, the sun was shining brightly and things were going perfectly according to plan.  Food was prepped, water games assembled, the cakes were baked (from scratch, of course), and the decorations were ready.  I decided to shower and get ready quickly before putting everything out.  (In case you aren’t familiar with motherhood, it is a law of nature that 1)moms are not supposed to shower and 2)if they do, something will go awry.)  Something I cannot describe as anything short of a universal phenomenon happened while I defied the laws of motherhood.  When I came back out to put everything together, the cloudless, sunny sky had quickly become a black mess of wind and clouds.  Within minutes (I’m not exaggerating, minutes!), we saw a brilliant flash of lightning, heard a thunderous crack directly over our roof, and a downpour ensued for the next hour…to which I replied, "Arr ye kiddin' me, matey?"

     I quickly, but sadly, adjusted our plans.  After all, the show must go on, and our son had a great birthday. It turns out, he and his friends couldn’t care less about themes and perfectly decorated birthday cakes.  They got to sword fight and eat cake and open presents…what more can a kid ask for?

     I have a new theory about the PMC.  The moms in the club are more powerful than I initially thought.  Not only are they able to get kids to do what no other being on the planet can, they can control the weather.  (I have yet to see pictures from their perfectly put together parties that do not contain a bright and cloudless sky.)Either these women are truly incredible, or they could sense I was on to them and used their powers for evil. Either way, my perfectly planned celebration most definitely fell short of PMC standards.

 With that said, I think it may be time to give up my ambition of being the newest member of the Pinterest Mommy Club…although my daughter’s first birthday is just around the corner…

Below is what my blog may have looked like this week had I not angered the universe with personal hygiene. I am going to pin this post in hopes that another poor mother desperate to plan the perfect party might find help, not with ideas for the perfect pirate party, but as a warning that membership in "the club" may result in more power than most moms can handle.

We sent our invitations message in a bottle style.
At least my niece liked it! Isn't she adorable? 

 We made three flags (yes, I actually broke out the ol' sewing machine)  and mounted them on PVC pipe to put where the umbrellas would go on the patio tables. I then made a bunting with coordinating fabrics to put on the back rail of the deck. 

Where the flags and bunting should have been...

Look at that...

  We had coordinating plates and napkins.  Even the straws had matching flags.  

Who wouldn't want to drink with that? 

     All of the games were planned as outdoor water games.  The plan was to walk the plank over the baby pool with a sprinkler, sword fight in the sprinklers with pool noodles that had been cut in half, and then use nerf balls to have a cannon ball fight.  After each game, they would get a clue leading them one step closer to the buried treasure.  We made a treasure chest from an old shoe box (painted brown), spray painted some rocks gold, added some craft jewels, and plastic beads for the treasure.  (That box was forgotten until tonight...let's just say the treasure was better left buried after several heavy rains.)  We improvised with the games and had the kids hunt for the goody bags instead.  Each goody bag was filled with Hershey's gold nuggets and Rolo's, an eye patch, some plastic beads and rings, pirate tattoos, and my son's personal favorite, ring pops. 

Ronan walking the plank

The kids didn't seem to mind that the fight was indoors...
even the men joined in

      At last it was time for the birthday cake.  The cake truly was made from scratch (and the cupcakes were rice crispy treats mixed with a boxed cake...delicious).  I wimped out and bought the frosting.  There is only so much a girl can do...come to think of it...maybe that's why the Pinterest moms turned on me...

It's amazing what one can do with a little chocolate
and some airheads.  (Again...matching flags!)

What a cute pirate!

     

Non-Bucket List of Summer Fun

    The lazy days of summer are upon my household.  Our normal routine has been scrapped and we’ve spent several days in our pajamas.  I’m talking entire days in our pajamas…unless one of my neighbors happens to be reading this.  In that case, those are our “cleaning clothes”.  If one of my friends is reading this, my house only looks like a mess.  We’re downsizing and organizing…it has to get worse before it can get better, right?

     I don’t know if it’s because you spend the first several weeks of summer at full speed, determined to make every minute of these warm days and long nights count, determined that your kids will have some good memories from childhood.  Maybe it’s because we took our family vacation and now there’s nothing “big” left to look forward to. Maybe I’ve simply come to the realization that my kids don’t appreciate elaborate memory making moments any more than they appreciate simply blowing bubbles in the driveway.  Whatever the reason, the last week or so at our house has truly illustrated what it means to have a lazy summer day...or ten...in a row.  

     I have several mom friends (women who could probably be defined as the “pinterest mommies” I wish I was) who have made bucket lists of summer for their families.  I’m not talking a simple list on a cute notepad. Picture giant, cutesy posters with kid-friendly penmanship and illustrations.  I was determined to make one with our family.  We even got some tourism brochures and catalogs hoping to add some new and exciting adventures from our new area…but somehow we never got around to it and in my desire to be the next member of the Pinterest Mommy Club, simply scrawling our ideas on a piece of college-ruled notebook paper we would surely misplace just didn’t suffice.  We took a much more effective approach…we didn’t do one.

     I haven’t thought about our non-bucket list of summer fun for several weeks…until yesterday evening.  My husband arrived home from work and suddenly I realized I was still in the tank top I’d slept in the night before and the cut off sweat pants I’ve had since I was a senior in high school. (Yes, Mom.  I still wear them.) My hair was uncombed and unkempt, and the baby was wearing nothing but a diaper.  Thankfully my three-year-old prefers to dress himself, so at least it looked like he’d made some effort to be part of a civilized society.  It was in that instant that I realized we may be getting a little carried away with our slothfulness.  I determined then and there that it was time to make our summer bucket list.  It may not be as exciting or fun as my other mommy friends, and most of the items on the list are things my kids do anyway, but maybe if we have a list we can create enough momentum to at least put our clothes on and run a brush through our hair.  For your viewing enjoyment (and so I can't lose the list)…

The Cole Family Summer Bucket List

·         Venture into town once a week

·         Watch any cartoon besides “Justin Time”

·         Get dressed every day

·         Play on the Slip n’ Slide

·         Go fishing and catch something (preferably fish)

·         Play at park

·         Look for frogs

·         Have a bonfire (and S’mores)

·         Chase a butterfly

·         Go for lots of walks

·         Attract a hummingbird to our feeder

·         Make our own popsicles

·         Go camping

·         Send out birthday thank-you cards

·         Eat a watermelon

·         Mow the lawn before it’s too hard to push the mower 

Going camping...almost

Spending the day in your pajamas/diaper

Slip N' Slides...not intended for adult use

It isn't summer without a little watermelon..

Going for a walk

Don't you wish you looked this cute in goggles?
 (Or "gobbles" as they are referred to around here)

Father's Day

As I scroll through my newsfeed on Facebook, I have friends who dedicate a status or picture to their loving father and others who are left with cherished memories of a father who is deeply loved and terribly missed. I find myself (as I do every Father’s Day) feeling a course of emotions running through my heart.  I’m happy, humored, touched, connected, envious, angry…and longing.

As kids, my siblings and I often found ourselves in the category of the fatherless.  I don’t have a story of great honor to tell about why my father was absent from our lives. He didn’t die a great man or have to leave for extended periods of time to provide for his family…he often chose alcohol instead of us.

I remember watching other kids with such longing.  I wanted to feel like my dad loved me like their dad loved them.  I wanted to feel like my dad chose me.  I wanted the security of a father.  I longed for him to want to be our father. 

I am thankful that God can reach us even through heartbreak.  I have forgiven my dad (a lesson in itself) and even tried to put some semblance of relationship back together with him.  I am thankful that God uses others to reach us even through heartbreak. I look back and am thankful for the many men who stepped up and filled the role of substitute dad the best they could.  I remember my Uncle Reeve offering to take us to Father-Daughter banquets and Uncle Sam reminding us that we were great kids and our dad was really the one missing out.  God blessed me with the world’s greatest grandpa who spent countless hours pouring into our lives, praying for us, and teaching us about a father in Heaven who loved us with a perfect love.  I remember a pastor at our church taking my brother fishing and others who would tease us and show us magic tricks.

     When I was 12, God used another man to love us. Bless his heart, my stepdad chose very

Proud Papa

deliberately to be a father to my siblings and I. (He must have also been slightly crazy to take on two preteen daughters and a son!)  I will never begin to be able to express to him the depth of gratitude I feel for him and his selflessness as our dad.  He has shown me what a godly husband and father look like and has sacrificed more for the three of us than some genetically related fathers do for their kids.  He is a true hero in every sense of the word.  (And if you know my dad, you know words aren’t really his thing.)  

   

World's Greatest and Best-Looking Dad

  Now I help my kids celebrate Father’s Day with their dad. I sometimes find myself jealous of my kids.  They have the kind of dad my heart desired so greatly as a kid. They have a dad who loves them, chooses them, and protects them.  I know they think the world of him now and he is their hero just as my stepdad is mine.  I hope that as they continue to grow, they never forget how truly blessed they are to have a godly father in their lives.

     Father’s Day is a day of mixed emotions for me.  My childlike heart still longs for the daddy I missed out on and my grown up heart is so thankful to finally have a dad who really did choose me.  My heart is also full knowing that even when our earthly fathers let us down, our Heavenly Father loves us with a perfect love.

Happy Father’s Day to the dads and "substitute dads" in my life! 

Thunder Thighs and Baby Steps

  This week while I was trying to force encourage my daughter to walk, she finally got the courage to do it. She took her first steps!  If you’ve ever seen the size of my daughter’s thighs, you know the fact that she can stand on her own is pretty remarkable, but taking steps…now that’s quite a feat!  (I’m half-kidding here.  I mean seriously, who can resist a chunky baby? Especially one with a face like that!)

      I find watching babies learn to walk incredibly exciting and frustrating all at the same time.  Emersyn has been standing independently for quite some time now.  She can get herself to standing position from the middle of the floor, bounce on her toes, and even squat down.  Taking a few steps should really be no big deal.  And yet, it is.  (To me and to her.)  I know how proud she’ll be and the freedom she’ll gain by taking those steps.  Freedom to follow her big brother, play in the grass, and get into things and explore.  (Although, I don’t know about your kids, but mine seemed pretty capable of destroying my house as soon as they could crawl. Nah. I take that back, my kids have been taking over our house since they moved in.) 

      In the middle of one of our not so successful “practice sessions”, I had one of those thoughts that comes out of nowhere and slams into you like a two-ton brick.  My thought: My daughter will probably be in therapy one day because her mother pushed her too hard while learning to walk.  I’m kidding. Although it’s probably true.  My thought (for real this time): Is this how God feels watching us sometimes?  Is it excruciatingly frustrating for Him to just sit and watch and know how capable we are and yet we don’t.  Something keeps holding us back—fear, comfort, ignorance, pride…He knows what freedom we can have if we just take those first few steps. 

      I imagine God and I have similar thoughts as we’re encouraging our children to take those first few and crucial steps.  “I’m right here.  I am bigger, stronger, and watching out for anything that will come your way.  I can catch you.  I can help you up.  I will be the one to offer words of comfort and I will be cheering the loudest when you succeed. You can do it.”

      God really does have all of those thoughts.  God gives us this same pep talk through his word.

·         Hebrews 13:5—“…Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

·         Romans 8:31&38-39—“…If God is for us, who can be against us?...For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present or the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God…

·         Psalm 54:4—“Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me.”

·         Isaiah 41:10—“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

·         Philippians 4:13—“I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.”

So go on, friend! Take those first few steps.  And every time you see a chunky baby’s little thunder thighs, remember, God is patiently and excitedly waiting for you to take the next step in your faith.

Lord, thank you for your patience.  Thank you that you desire great things for my life.  Give me the courage to take those steps…wherever they lead.

       

In A World With No Target...

      Have you ever noticed that God has a way of giving us our desires but not at all the way we would have planned? Take for instance how I ended up living in the country, outside an itty-bitty town in Southern Illinois.

     Trust me, this is the LAST place I would have ever considered moving.  In fact, on the list of potential places to be moved…this was the last place I considered living.  I made it very clear that I would NOT move to Illinois, that I would NOT live in a small town, that I would NOT live in the country, and that we would NOT rent after owning our home. Apparently God didn’t get the memo because like I said, sometimes things turn out the way we want, but not anything like we planned.

     Our life was pretty good back home.  We lived in a friendly neighborhood with neighbors who cared about us and a Target just blocks away.  We said goodbye to close family who could get in our business whenever they wanted. We said goodbye to an awesome church family where our kids knew who to hit up if they needed to get into the stash of chocolate donuts. We left a town that had become home and a house that held a lot of precious memories.  It was hard to say good-bye. I wasn’t sure how God was going to work for good in this move, but one thing I learned was that God is never going to take something good away unless He’s got something bigger planned.

Who needs the zoo when
everyone you know owns livestock?

     So, here I am…in Illinois…outside an itty-bitty town…in the country…in a rental home…and I’m content.

 Our house is better than anything I hoped to buy. It turns out that the itty-bitty town we landed in doesn’t have a lot to offer in entertainment choices, but makes up for it with great people and community.  Our neighborhood looks a little different now, and I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss Target, but we have been blessed with some of the greatest neighbors you could ask for. While our kids have yet to find the chocolate donut lady in our new church family, we feel at home there.  We’ve been adopted by our friends here and we’re working to create new memories. I’m content.  God took us away from what was good, but He’s blessed us here far greater than we could have hoped for.

One of the perks of having
a farmer for a neighbor

 I don’t think we’ve completely discovered what God has planned for us here, but I have a feeling we won’t be disappointed. (Unless it involves camo...I mean, a girl has to draw the line somewhere. :)) God knows the deepest desires of my heart, and while He doesn’t always work for my comfort, He always works for my good…even if it isn’t exactly how I planned. 

Lord, thank you for our new home.  Thank you for new friends, new neighbors, and new experiences.  Thank you for understanding my heart and not listening to my plans!

Why, yes!  Those sexy boots
are new!

And a word of caution to our family back home in Nebraska: You can pray us back if you want, but beware.  We may just pray you here instead!

      

     

Scare Tactics and Angry Mom Whispers

      You know that feeling you get  when you wonder if everything you’re doing as a parent is going to completely scar your children for life?  I’ve had that feeling a lot lately.  Maybe it’s because I have a baby who is still teething and is a little fussier than usual, maybe it’s because I’m learning that three is going to be worse than terrible two’s, or maybe the love that was showered on me last Sunday has made me reevaluate my skills as a mother.  Whatever the reason, I’m fairly certain my kids are going to end up a train wreck by 25. 

      A few weeks ago, I made May Day baskets to deliver to our neighbors.  I pulled the kids in the wagon in 90 degree heat…before naptime.  My first mistake was making May Day baskets to deliver to our neighbors.  My next mistake was pulling a wagon in 90 degree heat.  My biggest mistake was underestimating the grave importance of naptime in our home.  After explaining how to hang the basket and run quickly back to the wagon 852 times, snatching the paper baskets from my 8 month old daughter’s mouth 253 times, and re-explaining how to hang the basket and run quickly back to the wagon another 378 times, we finally arrived to deliver our first basket. This was the moment, that glorious moment when I would pass down one of my childhood memories to my children.

Don't let their cute, little faces fool you...
they know how to make your hair turn gray!

He was so sweet walking up to the door… the wrong door. He was going to the wrong door!  After being redirected and making it to the right door, he couldn’t reach the door handle or the doorbell.  So, 25 pound baby in tow, I helped him hang the basket and ran quickly back to the wagon…with Ronan stopping behind to look at the yard decorations, play in the bird bath, and pick up a new rock for his collection.   

      Now this is the moment I scar my kids for life…I whispered angrily to him.  (You know what I’m talking about don’t you?  The “angry mom whisper”.  It doesn’t really mask the volume all that well, but adds extra emphasis and a terrible hissing sound that is supposed to sound more threatening than it really is. We’re really big into scare tactics around here.) So, I’m whispering angrily at Ronan telling him once again how we’re supposed to run from the house so we don’t get caught and when we stop to play in their bird bath they could catch us.  And letting him know how he’s ruining the game if he doesn’t play right…and blah, blah, blah. I really like to drive home my point on these mom tirades, so I keep saying the same thing over and over in different ways because we all know a three-year-old has an excellent attention span and lecturing is the most effective way to change their behavior…repeat this cycle four more times with various lawn ornaments and the occasional warning about how walking in people’s grass is rude and that about sums up our May Day experience.

      By the time we got home, I swore I would never observe another May Day as long as I was alive, to which Ronan replied, “We still have another basket to deliver…” 

      Just this morning I had another Anti-Fun-Mommy moment.  I felt so guilty after it happened.  It ended with everyone in tears and I knew I needed to refocus and collect myself before I could go on with the day.  I had a heart-to-heart with God and was reminded that I needed to refuel for the day.  So I opened my bible and this is what I read,

“He tends his flock like a shepherd:
    He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
 he gently leads those that have young.”

-Isaiah 40:11

      I don’t know about you, but I find this verse so comforting.  He’s leading me, not in a judgmental way, humiliating me when I fail to live up to the measure of a perfect mom, but gently.  God understands my desire to be a great mom, he understands my shortcomings and tendency to suck the fun out of should-be great moments, and it seems He also understands that having kids is tough…so He gently leads...Presumably not through the grass or with a loud mom whisper, but gently leading me so that I may lead them.

Lord, thank you for your understanding.  Thank you for your gentleness.  And thank you for leading me in these tough moments with little ones.