Sorry about that...didn't mean to leave you wondering for so long!
The instructions from the computer fix it guy were to take the laptop apart piece by piece. Certain pieces were then submerged (yes- SUBMERGED) in distilled water overnight. I was hyperventilating at that point because in my mind submerging computer parts in water was a bad idea. The pieces then needed to completely dry out over a couple of days and then put back together. Not only did it work but the laptop works better than it has in awhile. I think it needed a good cleaning.
Now, here's the lesson learned (and, no, it's not to keep hot drinks away from the laptop- I'm drinking hot cocoa as we speak)- what if I decided the computer guy was crazy and refused to do what he said? Logically, it didn't make sense. If I would have ignored him the laptop would be forever broken and I would be out quite a sum of money. But instead, I trusted the professional and all is well.
Isn't that just like life? How often does God want us to do things that don't logically make sense? It's something I've been pondering for a good two weeks. Something to think about.
Showing posts with label spiritual walk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiritual walk. Show all posts
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Box of Books
While we were in Minnesota last month we got to visit with some friends who have recently moved out there. We've known them, worked with them, kind of lived with them a long time and it was good to see them again- and good to NOT be all alone out there.
Bryan officially has one of the greatest jobs EVER. Well, maybe his job isn't the greatest but his employer is. The day they came to visit with us was his official first day of work at...dum-dah-dah-dum....Desiring God Ministries! And the best part is...they brought us prizes! Two books by John Piper and a conference on DVD. We were so excited!
A couple of weeks ago Bryan had asked me if I'd ever heard of Helen Roseveare. I emailed him back and went on and on and on about how I LOVE her. While we worked in Pennsylvania the director had brought me a book from his personal library that he wanted me to order for the team. It was Living Sacrifice by Helen Roseveare. I went online and searched for it and discovered it was out of print. I contacted the publisher and got permission to make copies. The woman I spoke to at the publisher told me that Helen Roseveare "was no longer living and it was such a shame because she had heard her speak once and it was wonderful." I tried to copy the book on the copy machine but it wasn't turning out very well. So, I decided to try and type it out. The book wasn't that long and I could type pretty fast so I tried it.
I didn't like biographies much and I especially didn't like missionary biographies. They were all the same and all boring (I think at that point I had read maybe two biographies so clearly I hadn't read enough to know what I was talking about). No kidding, Living Sacrifice changed my life. I've actually read it three times. I never finished typing it because it was taking forever but I added that book to my mental list of favorites.
After I sent the email back to Bryan he replied that the publisher must have been mistaken because Helen Roseveare was speaking at the Desiring God conference in September! I was so excited because maybe that would mean she would have books there! I told Bryan the title of the one I loved so much and asked him to keep his eyes open. A few days later I received this book from him by Noel Piper. Awesome! It wasn't Living Sacrifice but she was still in there!
A couple of days after the conference Sarah emailed me the link to watch Miss Roseveare speak. She is a tiny British woman who has such passion for the Lord and she's very witty! It was kind of neat to put a face and a personality with the stories I'd read.
Yesterday when I got home from work there was a package in the mail. I never get packages so I was surprised. I saw Bryan and Sarah's name in the corner so I KNEW it was going to be books. When I opened the box I nearly had a heart attack.
That's six books by Helen Roseveare! There is also a DVD of John Piper's sermons on Romans. I think there were 5 more DVD's and two more books but my husband ran off with those. I'm already a couple chapters into the first book and I can't wait to read them all! Aren't friends the best??? Especially kindred spirits! Hooray for fellow booklovers!
Thursday, August 2, 2007
The Red Bible: Part 2
She was giving her Bible to me. She turned to the front page where her maiden name was written in the upper right hand corner, a squiggly line through it, her married name written underneath.
"My parents gave this Bible to me when I left for Bible school and now I'm giving it to you."
Once I got to college and the assignments started pouring in I could turn those pages to my hearts content. I could even write in it. I added my name to the list on the front page. Three different names, three different seasons of life. We went to different colleges but I discovered we had one of the same teachers. I went to mark a passage in the margin as the professor was speaking and I noticed it was already marked. Next to the passage it read "Dr. Whitcomb" and I felt a little thrill in my heart as if that mark bonded us, my mother and I.
As I read through that Bible I discovered struggles my mother had gone through and the scriptures that encouraged her. An underlined passage read "Carl's funeral," a friend who had died while she was in college. My mom and I didn't talk growing up. We fought a lot. It was mostly my fault. I was filled with teenage angst and liked to keep my private thoughts private. I didn't ask her questions either because I didn't want to be in a conversation that involved any kind of sharing personal information. Having her Bible with all her notes was like having the most meaningful conversation we could have. I began to see verses as she saw them and I was able to understand her a little better.
A few years later I married and the first Sunday we returned to church I drew a line through my maiden name and wrote my married name underneath. Another name, another season. That red Bible was mine now. I used it for devotions, for church, on retreats. One Sunday, a few years into our marriage, in the rush of getting ready I grabbed a different Bible that fit in my purse a little better. After awhile that Bible became my "regular" whether it was out of convenience or out of laziness for not taking the time to look for the red one. I pushed the red Bible into the back of my mind, not really forgetting it but overlooking it.
Over time I started to miss the red Bible. I missed the surprises of finding my mother's handwriting next to a passage that moved my heart. I longed to turn a page and make a discovery and see that she also was moved. So, a few weeks or months after I'd picked up the new Bible I went to the shelf to find my old red one. But when I reached up and looked for it my heart dropped to my stomach. It was gone. I looked all over our tiny apartment and enlisted the help of my husband but our search was fruitless.
I had lost the red Bible.
"My parents gave this Bible to me when I left for Bible school and now I'm giving it to you."
Once I got to college and the assignments started pouring in I could turn those pages to my hearts content. I could even write in it. I added my name to the list on the front page. Three different names, three different seasons of life. We went to different colleges but I discovered we had one of the same teachers. I went to mark a passage in the margin as the professor was speaking and I noticed it was already marked. Next to the passage it read "Dr. Whitcomb" and I felt a little thrill in my heart as if that mark bonded us, my mother and I.
As I read through that Bible I discovered struggles my mother had gone through and the scriptures that encouraged her. An underlined passage read "Carl's funeral," a friend who had died while she was in college. My mom and I didn't talk growing up. We fought a lot. It was mostly my fault. I was filled with teenage angst and liked to keep my private thoughts private. I didn't ask her questions either because I didn't want to be in a conversation that involved any kind of sharing personal information. Having her Bible with all her notes was like having the most meaningful conversation we could have. I began to see verses as she saw them and I was able to understand her a little better.
A few years later I married and the first Sunday we returned to church I drew a line through my maiden name and wrote my married name underneath. Another name, another season. That red Bible was mine now. I used it for devotions, for church, on retreats. One Sunday, a few years into our marriage, in the rush of getting ready I grabbed a different Bible that fit in my purse a little better. After awhile that Bible became my "regular" whether it was out of convenience or out of laziness for not taking the time to look for the red one. I pushed the red Bible into the back of my mind, not really forgetting it but overlooking it.
Over time I started to miss the red Bible. I missed the surprises of finding my mother's handwriting next to a passage that moved my heart. I longed to turn a page and make a discovery and see that she also was moved. So, a few weeks or months after I'd picked up the new Bible I went to the shelf to find my old red one. But when I reached up and looked for it my heart dropped to my stomach. It was gone. I looked all over our tiny apartment and enlisted the help of my husband but our search was fruitless.
I had lost the red Bible.
The Red Bible: Part 1
Growing up in a churched family we all had our own Bibles. Mine was a pink New Testament with my name etched in gold on the cover. It fit perfectly clutched in my little hands and had a pretty pink ribbon bookmark that I could wrap around one of my fingers. My mother had written inside in cursive so it was years before I could read "We love you! Dad and Mom." I loved my little pink Bible- mostly because it was pink and had my name on it. In the early 80's you could find all sorts of trinkets with my name but almost all were spelled wrong. T-r-a-c-y looked so beautiful and right.
Every Sunday morning our family of four would go through our pre-church routine. We had only one bathroom and we stuck to the same rotation so we wouldn't all rush for the shower at the same time. Somehow we all managed to meet at the car at the same time each of us with a Bible, my mom with her purse. She would pass her and Dad's Bibles to the backseat for me to hold while she rummaged in her purse for mints.
I loved to hold her Bible. It was red leather. Good leather. The kind that gets softer with age. It was smooth to the touch. She wrote on her pages (something I was afraid to do as my schoolteachers repeatedly reminded us never to write in books). She has very distinct handwriting- neat, straight, with pretty tails on the appropriate letters. I didn't look inside often because the pages in Romans were loose and starting to fall out. I didn't want to be the one responsible for the final tug that would pull the chapters free. I know she kept a love note I'd written to her in the book of Matthew.
Once I outgrew my pink New Testament I got a plain black KJV from my Sunday School class. When I turned 13 I got a brand new NIV Student Bible. It was reddish leather and I was proud- almost like my mom's. But as I used that Bible and roughed it up a little the "leather" didn't soften. Instead it peeled and cracked revealing cardboard underneath. Someday I'd get a Bible like Mom's, I thought.
Graduation came and I began to plan, prepare, and pack to go off to Bible College. I must have packed and repacked 50 times that summer. The excitement of college and expectation of independence was mingled with the dread of leaving home. If only I could pack enough to bring "home" with me.
My mom came in my room on one of my packing days and watched.
"Do you think you have everything?" she asked.
"I guess..." I looked around the room, doubtful.
She glanced at my stack of books. "You'll probably need a different Bible."
She was right of course. The Student Bible was for teenagers and I was mature now- going away to school.
"Would you look to take mine?"
Every Sunday morning our family of four would go through our pre-church routine. We had only one bathroom and we stuck to the same rotation so we wouldn't all rush for the shower at the same time. Somehow we all managed to meet at the car at the same time each of us with a Bible, my mom with her purse. She would pass her and Dad's Bibles to the backseat for me to hold while she rummaged in her purse for mints.
I loved to hold her Bible. It was red leather. Good leather. The kind that gets softer with age. It was smooth to the touch. She wrote on her pages (something I was afraid to do as my schoolteachers repeatedly reminded us never to write in books). She has very distinct handwriting- neat, straight, with pretty tails on the appropriate letters. I didn't look inside often because the pages in Romans were loose and starting to fall out. I didn't want to be the one responsible for the final tug that would pull the chapters free. I know she kept a love note I'd written to her in the book of Matthew.
Once I outgrew my pink New Testament I got a plain black KJV from my Sunday School class. When I turned 13 I got a brand new NIV Student Bible. It was reddish leather and I was proud- almost like my mom's. But as I used that Bible and roughed it up a little the "leather" didn't soften. Instead it peeled and cracked revealing cardboard underneath. Someday I'd get a Bible like Mom's, I thought.
Graduation came and I began to plan, prepare, and pack to go off to Bible College. I must have packed and repacked 50 times that summer. The excitement of college and expectation of independence was mingled with the dread of leaving home. If only I could pack enough to bring "home" with me.
My mom came in my room on one of my packing days and watched.
"Do you think you have everything?" she asked.
"I guess..." I looked around the room, doubtful.
She glanced at my stack of books. "You'll probably need a different Bible."
She was right of course. The Student Bible was for teenagers and I was mature now- going away to school.
"Would you look to take mine?"
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Five Things
Carrie at With All That I've Been Given tagged me for this "Five Things I love about Jesus" meme a little while ago. I haven't forgotten about it - in fact, I've been overthinking it for the past few days. It's hard to narrow it down and hard to put into words. I've decided that if I tried to be too descriptive or wordy I'd just mess things up. So instead I thought I'd list the five verses that talk about Jesus that I love the most. I'll let the Word speak for me!
II Corinthians 1:20 For all the promises of God in him are yea, and in him Amen, unto the glory of God by us.
Romans 10:4 For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth.
Luke 7:13 And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
Hebrews 13:6 So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.
Romans 9:16 So then it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy.
Want to know why I picked a particular verse? Feel free to ask me in the comments. And I would love to hear some verses that you all love (and why)! Consider that my tag since all of you have already participated in this I think!
II Corinthians 1:20 For all the promises of God in him are yea, and in him Amen, unto the glory of God by us.
Romans 10:4 For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth.
Luke 7:13 And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
Hebrews 13:6 So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.
Romans 9:16 So then it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy.
Want to know why I picked a particular verse? Feel free to ask me in the comments. And I would love to hear some verses that you all love (and why)! Consider that my tag since all of you have already participated in this I think!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Battle of the Wills
We are having a bedtime battle this evening. Charlie threw a horrific tantrum right before dinner that clearly showed us he had not taken his nap today. As punishment for his meltdown he was told to finish dinner, take a bath, and go straight to bed. It was 6:30.
Chad has left for Wednesday night church so I'm here to deal with the crying and scheming and trying to weasel out of his punishment. His latest attempt was this:
Charlie (peaking out his bedroom door): Mom....
Me (giving him the look): What.
Charlie (chin quivering): I just told Jesus on you.
Me (biting hard on my lip): For what?
Charlie: I told him you had to be nice to me and let me get out of bed and let me listen to my radio and to not be punished....and to not be mad. (tears)
In my defense, I had not raised my voice at all yet because I knew his bad behavior was from lack of sleep. Any attempt on my part to reason with him or argue with him would be fruitless because he is highly irrational and emotional with no nap.
I took him back into his room and tucked him (nicely) back into his bed.
Charlie: I prayed to Jesus that you would let me play toys. It didn't work.
Me: Jesus knows you can't play toys when it's time for bed...
Charlie: Oh.
As frustrating as tonight's circumstances are I enjoy watching him work out his faith. He knows he can pray but he's trying to distinguish what he can pray for- and that prayer isn't a magic guarantee to get what he wants. At this point in his life I'm thankful for the open conversations we can have about Jesus. He's a regular conversation topic around here and that makes me happy. For now I will take comfort in knowing even in the bad days (or evenings) the whole idea of "who is Jesus?" is being worked out in our home. Not just who He is to me or to Chad but who He is to Charlie. He's making his faith his own.
Or he's just trying to get out of bed...
Chad has left for Wednesday night church so I'm here to deal with the crying and scheming and trying to weasel out of his punishment. His latest attempt was this:
Charlie (peaking out his bedroom door): Mom....
Me (giving him the look): What.
Charlie (chin quivering): I just told Jesus on you.
Me (biting hard on my lip): For what?
Charlie: I told him you had to be nice to me and let me get out of bed and let me listen to my radio and to not be punished....and to not be mad. (tears)
In my defense, I had not raised my voice at all yet because I knew his bad behavior was from lack of sleep. Any attempt on my part to reason with him or argue with him would be fruitless because he is highly irrational and emotional with no nap.
I took him back into his room and tucked him (nicely) back into his bed.
Charlie: I prayed to Jesus that you would let me play toys. It didn't work.
Me: Jesus knows you can't play toys when it's time for bed...
Charlie: Oh.
As frustrating as tonight's circumstances are I enjoy watching him work out his faith. He knows he can pray but he's trying to distinguish what he can pray for- and that prayer isn't a magic guarantee to get what he wants. At this point in his life I'm thankful for the open conversations we can have about Jesus. He's a regular conversation topic around here and that makes me happy. For now I will take comfort in knowing even in the bad days (or evenings) the whole idea of "who is Jesus?" is being worked out in our home. Not just who He is to me or to Chad but who He is to Charlie. He's making his faith his own.
Or he's just trying to get out of bed...
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The New Babysitter
I work three days a week and have a babysitter for two of those days. My sister in law has been the sitter for a good year and a half but has taken the summer off to have a baby. I guess that's reasonable. Since it is summer break my selection is much greater than during the school year. There are eager teenagers wanting to make a little money to spend and babysitting is an easy gig.
Thankfully, my husband "shows himself friendly" and got to know the music pastor from the "other church." He has a 13 and 16 year old daughter. The 16 year old is a little busy but the 13 year old was very excited to be asked to babysit. This is her first long term job. She took a Red Cross first aid class and came the first day armed with a list a questions. She is thorough! Her mom stopped in to check on her twice to make sure everything was under control. She even calls me "Ma'am". Yikes.
I asked Charlie how the first day went and he says he likes her. He then proceeded to tell me all the really fun things they did that day. And there were alot. So, I'm thrilled we found a keeper.
The only problem is that horrible mom-guilt/babysitter jealousy. If we had a terrible babysitter I would be miserable (and quit my job and eat ramen noodles). But we have an excellent babysitter that my kids look forward to seeing and I'm a little jealous. They watch the sliding door on the porch for her to get here and greet her with much JUMPING!! and YELLING!!! and GUESS WHAT?! And I quietly give them hugs and say to be good and head off to work.
I'm thankful the Lord provided a job that will carry us through Chad's medical bills. I'm thankful he continues to provide people who love my kids to watch them for me. I'm thankful my job is working for my dad so I can leave anytime there is a sniffle or a sneeze at home. Sometimes I just need a good sigh.
Thankfully, my husband "shows himself friendly" and got to know the music pastor from the "other church." He has a 13 and 16 year old daughter. The 16 year old is a little busy but the 13 year old was very excited to be asked to babysit. This is her first long term job. She took a Red Cross first aid class and came the first day armed with a list a questions. She is thorough! Her mom stopped in to check on her twice to make sure everything was under control. She even calls me "Ma'am". Yikes.
I asked Charlie how the first day went and he says he likes her. He then proceeded to tell me all the really fun things they did that day. And there were alot. So, I'm thrilled we found a keeper.
The only problem is that horrible mom-guilt/babysitter jealousy. If we had a terrible babysitter I would be miserable (and quit my job and eat ramen noodles). But we have an excellent babysitter that my kids look forward to seeing and I'm a little jealous. They watch the sliding door on the porch for her to get here and greet her with much JUMPING!! and YELLING!!! and GUESS WHAT?! And I quietly give them hugs and say to be good and head off to work.
I'm thankful the Lord provided a job that will carry us through Chad's medical bills. I'm thankful he continues to provide people who love my kids to watch them for me. I'm thankful my job is working for my dad so I can leave anytime there is a sniffle or a sneeze at home. Sometimes I just need a good sigh.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
National Day of Prayer
Today is the National Day of Prayer. I'm ashamed to say that in years past I've forgotten all about it and let it pass. This year I longed for and prepared for today. Don't get me wrong...I fully understand that everyday is a day of prayer. But if you think of other holidays (Christmas/giving, Thanksgiving/being thankful, Valentine's Day/love, Easter/celebrating the Resurrection) all those things should be done everyday, too. There's this vibe I get when I wake up on a holiday...that special day set aside for a little extra of something we do everyday.
I have some big ones today. Heather is having brain surgery today and is being covered in prayer by numerous bloggers. We even put her on the list at the church today. We have some family stuff going on that involves numerous people and LOTS of prayer. And as I was reading through my morning blog selection I came across another prayer request here. Please pray for Ben and his family today. Also, please remember to pray for our country and its leaders. And pray for your church, its leaders, and your pastor.
I'll be taking "prayer breaks" all day. If you leave a request in the comment section I'll pray for you, too! **
It's the National Day of Prayer...let's celebrate and pray!
**even if you comment a few days from now I'll still pray for you!
I have some big ones today. Heather is having brain surgery today and is being covered in prayer by numerous bloggers. We even put her on the list at the church today. We have some family stuff going on that involves numerous people and LOTS of prayer. And as I was reading through my morning blog selection I came across another prayer request here. Please pray for Ben and his family today. Also, please remember to pray for our country and its leaders. And pray for your church, its leaders, and your pastor.
I'll be taking "prayer breaks" all day. If you leave a request in the comment section I'll pray for you, too! **
It's the National Day of Prayer...let's celebrate and pray!
**even if you comment a few days from now I'll still pray for you!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Have a Good Morning
I am not a morning person. It's not that I like to sleep (I don't nap for fear I may miss something important) I just don't like to get up. I have a very cozy bed, soft sheets, and heavy, toasty blankets. Not to mention my bed is usually full of snuggly kids which makes me want to stay in there even longer.
This morning I woke up at 5:45...my alarm doesn't go off until 6:30. I was wide awake so I got up. Oh, why don't I do that more often? The house was quiet and I was able to drink my coffee and read a little more of a new book I got in the mail the other day. The book is called The Contemplative Mom by Ann Kroeker. I've been reading her blog regularly and I was curious about the subject of her book. I struggle so much with finding time alone with the Lord. What kind of Christian am I if I'm living on my past experiences? I'm reading the book very slowly and savoring it. There are tips, verses to "contemplate", and quotes from real moms. It's refreshing.
I stopped by one blog this morning. I was so thankful I did! Please read the prayer my friend Monica posted...it's just what I needed.
This morning I woke up at 5:45...my alarm doesn't go off until 6:30. I was wide awake so I got up. Oh, why don't I do that more often? The house was quiet and I was able to drink my coffee and read a little more of a new book I got in the mail the other day. The book is called The Contemplative Mom by Ann Kroeker. I've been reading her blog regularly and I was curious about the subject of her book. I struggle so much with finding time alone with the Lord. What kind of Christian am I if I'm living on my past experiences? I'm reading the book very slowly and savoring it. There are tips, verses to "contemplate", and quotes from real moms. It's refreshing.
I stopped by one blog this morning. I was so thankful I did! Please read the prayer my friend Monica posted...it's just what I needed.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Animal Crackers
On Sunday nights I pack a snack for big church that Charlie can have if he's quiet. He watches the clock and knows when the long hand gets to the six he can have the snack. He likes to make it last as long as possible and I'm amazed at his ability to prolong the life of a bag of animal crackers.
The great thing about Charlie is he is the best "sharer." In his bag he had some whole animal crackers and lots of broken pieces. He set two whole crackers on my Bible while I was listening to the service. I hid them in my fist until his bag was empty. When he put the last cracker in his mouth and the look of disappointment that comes at the end of a snack filled his eyes, I opened my fist and handed him one of the crackers. He smiled a great a big smile and bit the cracker in half. He held it out to me...and then took it back and bit it in half again. He handed me the leg of a camel for myself.
I held out my fist one more time with the last cracker. Thrilled with the opportunity to redeem his sharing habit he instantly bit it in half and gave me the bigger half. I'm fairly certain he gets his sharing quality from his dad.
When we were first married and incredibly broke (as most newlyweds are) Chad would ask how much we had left in the account after the bills were paid. I'd tell him and he would promptly give it away. Give it away. It would make me so crazy! I'd work hard to stretch our pennies and he would give away the clothes on his back (not in a metaphoric way- he has really given people the shirt he was wearing). But on the other hand there is no greater quality than to know all this "stuff" is for giving. Time, energy, clothes, money, food, shelter...the more we have the more we can give.
I'm so proud to see Charlie copy this behavior. A week ago someone gave him a brand new Superman action figure. Brand new. And the best part was he had done something to earn it which made him take even more pride in it. As soon as Henry saw the new toy he reached for it and Charlie said, "Henry! Look! A new Superman for us to share!"
I told a new parent friend that kids don't just love their parents- they adore them. And they show it by copying the behaviors that are the strongest. I'm not quite ready to confess the habits my kids copy in me (not good ones) but I will brag on the ones that they have picked up from their dad. Those are the ones I'd like to copy, too.
The great thing about Charlie is he is the best "sharer." In his bag he had some whole animal crackers and lots of broken pieces. He set two whole crackers on my Bible while I was listening to the service. I hid them in my fist until his bag was empty. When he put the last cracker in his mouth and the look of disappointment that comes at the end of a snack filled his eyes, I opened my fist and handed him one of the crackers. He smiled a great a big smile and bit the cracker in half. He held it out to me...and then took it back and bit it in half again. He handed me the leg of a camel for myself.
I held out my fist one more time with the last cracker. Thrilled with the opportunity to redeem his sharing habit he instantly bit it in half and gave me the bigger half. I'm fairly certain he gets his sharing quality from his dad.
When we were first married and incredibly broke (as most newlyweds are) Chad would ask how much we had left in the account after the bills were paid. I'd tell him and he would promptly give it away. Give it away. It would make me so crazy! I'd work hard to stretch our pennies and he would give away the clothes on his back (not in a metaphoric way- he has really given people the shirt he was wearing). But on the other hand there is no greater quality than to know all this "stuff" is for giving. Time, energy, clothes, money, food, shelter...the more we have the more we can give.
I'm so proud to see Charlie copy this behavior. A week ago someone gave him a brand new Superman action figure. Brand new. And the best part was he had done something to earn it which made him take even more pride in it. As soon as Henry saw the new toy he reached for it and Charlie said, "Henry! Look! A new Superman for us to share!"
I told a new parent friend that kids don't just love their parents- they adore them. And they show it by copying the behaviors that are the strongest. I'm not quite ready to confess the habits my kids copy in me (not good ones) but I will brag on the ones that they have picked up from their dad. Those are the ones I'd like to copy, too.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Mom World
I've been reading a lot in blog world lately about the need for relationships with moms. I struggle with this a lot. A great friend from high school (one of my bridesmaids) lives 20 minutes away from me. I haven't seen her in two months and before that it was six months. Terrible, I know. The worst part is we both have two kids who are the same age. Playdates are awesome when we get together.
I have an ongoing to-do list that I carry around in my bag at all times. On that list it says "Call Brandi." I promise it does. But here is what else is on my list-
I have an ongoing to-do list that I carry around in my bag at all times. On that list it says "Call Brandi." I promise it does. But here is what else is on my list-
- Make the beds
- Do the laundry
- Pay the bills/balance the checkbook
- Get groceries
- Play with the kids
- Feed the kids
- Read to the kids
- Clean the house
- Run Here
- Run There
- Do This
- Do That
- Call Brandi
There are a couple of things I'm noticing about my list. It's full of mom stuff and that isn't neccessarily wrong. If I'm busy enough I don't feel the emptiness of not having relationships. But when I put it all down on paper and really look at it I realize I'm missing relationships on all levels. I'm not spending time with the Lord, I'm not spending time with my husband (unless he's helping with my list alongside me), and I'm definately not spending time with other moms or even friends for that matter.
To be honest I'm feeling a little bit teary as I write this. It's tough when a realization smacks me in the face like this. There are moms at the preschool that I smile at but don't talk to. There are two moms in particular that I would really like to get to know but I don't know what to say. So I smile and say good morning and stand on the edge of their circles and wish I could get some words out but I can't think of anything. I usually end up talking to the kids.
So where do I go with these realizations? Do I type them out on the blog and walk away? I'm thinking of practical steps I can take tomorrow. For one, I could set out my Bible and journal by the coffee pot and instead of watching the news I could do my quiet time. I'm going to MOPS later in the morning and there is a girl there I really want to get to know. I'm going to talk to her. She's really outgoing and super nice so I know as soon as I say "How are you?" she'll get things rolling. And as for Brandi...I'm calling her. And I'll go through everyday on our calendars until we can find one to get together. Because I've got to start building some relationships...
Friday, April 6, 2007
Peace
This week our routine has been a little off and we are all a little stressed out about it. We had too many places to be and pushed ourselves too hard. Consequently we were all a little grumpy last night. But instead of the expected response, we had the best evening home we've had in a long time.
We sat down to dinner and instead of gobbling our food as fast as possible we ate slowly and actually talked. Charlie had gone to the movies with Grandpa and had lots to say about it. We slowly cleaned up the kitchen while enjoying each other's company. Chad had hurt his back earlier in the day so he went to soak in the tub. After a few minutes I realized I didn't know where Charlie was. I found him in the bathroom sitting on the clothes hamper eating a chocolate chip cookie. Chad was listening to Chuck Swindoll so Charlie was, too. It was very sweet. The two of them stayed in there for the whole radio sermon.
I was sitting on the couch reading a parenting magazine I had gotten in the mail when Henry climbed up into my lap with some books. Charlie grabbed some books of his own and we read for an hour. After Henry went to bed, Charlie and I continued to read and talk and we ended up talking about heaven. It was the sweetest conversation we've ever had. I wish I could replay the conversation but I feel I wouldn't be able to do it justice. The greatest part was in the end when Charlie decided he wanted to sing. He sang all the Sunday school songs he could think of and tried to act them out as he was singing. I couldn't help but watch with wonder as his natural response to our conversation about Easter, Jesus, and heaven led him to want to sing praises. It brought tears to my eyes even in the silliness of songs like "Fishers of Men".
I'm so thankful that the Lord brings peace to our hearts even when we are busy filling them with stress. And I'm thankful for the reminders he shows me through my children. Have a wonderful Easter weekend.
We sat down to dinner and instead of gobbling our food as fast as possible we ate slowly and actually talked. Charlie had gone to the movies with Grandpa and had lots to say about it. We slowly cleaned up the kitchen while enjoying each other's company. Chad had hurt his back earlier in the day so he went to soak in the tub. After a few minutes I realized I didn't know where Charlie was. I found him in the bathroom sitting on the clothes hamper eating a chocolate chip cookie. Chad was listening to Chuck Swindoll so Charlie was, too. It was very sweet. The two of them stayed in there for the whole radio sermon.
I was sitting on the couch reading a parenting magazine I had gotten in the mail when Henry climbed up into my lap with some books. Charlie grabbed some books of his own and we read for an hour. After Henry went to bed, Charlie and I continued to read and talk and we ended up talking about heaven. It was the sweetest conversation we've ever had. I wish I could replay the conversation but I feel I wouldn't be able to do it justice. The greatest part was in the end when Charlie decided he wanted to sing. He sang all the Sunday school songs he could think of and tried to act them out as he was singing. I couldn't help but watch with wonder as his natural response to our conversation about Easter, Jesus, and heaven led him to want to sing praises. It brought tears to my eyes even in the silliness of songs like "Fishers of Men".
I'm so thankful that the Lord brings peace to our hearts even when we are busy filling them with stress. And I'm thankful for the reminders he shows me through my children. Have a wonderful Easter weekend.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
The desires of my heart...
Chad and I have started emailing each other. That's kind of a big deal because Chad used to never check his email. Ever. Once a week I'd get in there and tell him he had 100 emails and 3 were urgent from 4 days ago. Finally his dad convinced him life would run a lot more smoothly if he used his email. So he started and now he's hooked. Granted, generally his emails consist of a quick question or a quick answer. For example:
Chad: What's for dinner?
My reply: I think I might try a new chicken dish....guess what happened to me today...and then I was thinking blue for the bedroom...have you seen my white shirt?
Chad's reply: I like chicken. See you at 5.
But yesterday was a little different. I received two emails from him within a 15 minute span and when I opened them I thought he had accidentally sent me something wrong. There were words on the page...lots of them. Paragraphs even. In both emails.
I can't even begin to tell you what they were about. Let's just say the Lord heard a prayer I've been praying silently in my heart for almost two years. Chad had been reviewing his notes for Wednesday night Bible study and was really convicted by what he was learning. I was almost in tears reading about what the Lord had showed him. The first email he told me was about a realization he had. The second email started like this, "Do you ever have a day when you just can't get over how wonderful your life is?"
We have had a rough couple of years. A big move, a new job, a miscarriage, scary health issues...and it's been tough to get back on our feet spiritually. We've been encouraging each other, picking each other up and dusting each other off hoping to get our strength back. Those emails have been a long time coming. If I hadn't been at work when I read them I would have jumped up and down. It's so true that the Lord knows the desires of our hearts and that he'll bring those things about in His time. I could have nagged Chad for these last two years and no good would have come from that. Instead I silently cried out in my heart and the Lord heard me. And for that I am incredibly thankful.
Chad: What's for dinner?
My reply: I think I might try a new chicken dish....guess what happened to me today...and then I was thinking blue for the bedroom...have you seen my white shirt?
Chad's reply: I like chicken. See you at 5.
But yesterday was a little different. I received two emails from him within a 15 minute span and when I opened them I thought he had accidentally sent me something wrong. There were words on the page...lots of them. Paragraphs even. In both emails.
I can't even begin to tell you what they were about. Let's just say the Lord heard a prayer I've been praying silently in my heart for almost two years. Chad had been reviewing his notes for Wednesday night Bible study and was really convicted by what he was learning. I was almost in tears reading about what the Lord had showed him. The first email he told me was about a realization he had. The second email started like this, "Do you ever have a day when you just can't get over how wonderful your life is?"
We have had a rough couple of years. A big move, a new job, a miscarriage, scary health issues...and it's been tough to get back on our feet spiritually. We've been encouraging each other, picking each other up and dusting each other off hoping to get our strength back. Those emails have been a long time coming. If I hadn't been at work when I read them I would have jumped up and down. It's so true that the Lord knows the desires of our hearts and that he'll bring those things about in His time. I could have nagged Chad for these last two years and no good would have come from that. Instead I silently cried out in my heart and the Lord heard me. And for that I am incredibly thankful.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Charlie and Jesus
I think I know where false religions come from. Charlie has made up some pretty good ones. Don't get me wrong. He knows his stuff when it comes to the basics of our faith. He loves the local CEF director in town and when she gave him a copy of his own wordless book he was thrilled. He carries it in his pocket and is determined that his younger cousin Jacob learn that his heart can be "white as snow".
Back to the false religions- we've been talking about Easter lately and trying to associate Jesus with the holiday. Charlie almost has it figured out. "So, mom, the bad guys were there, and Jesus died on the cross, and GUESS WHAT, he didn't stay dead! And I'm so happy because now Jesus can look for easter eggs, too!"
Then last night it was warm enough to go for a walk. There is a beautiful cemetary on our road that is good for walking. I know that sounds creepy but it isn't- it's actually very nice! Charlie wanted to know about all the tombstones so we tried to explain that when people die this is where their bodies go (okay, now that I'm typing that it does sound a little creepy). "Great! Hey Dad? Which one is Jesus?" He decided to call Nana when we got back from our walk and tell her about how we couldn't find Jesus because the bad guys wouldn't let us which at that point I think he was very involved with an imaginary tale involving pirates and buried treasure.
As funny as his comments are it's been exciting to see him work out this stuff himself. Sometimes we correct him (like last night we explained Jesus isn't there because he isn't dead) but most of the time we let him mull over it himself. He has his pastor's kid moments- mostly on Sunday evenings when he has to sit with me in big church. Chad says pastor's kids are a reminder from God to be humble! I'm amazed by the things he knows in his heart- things I haven't even explained to him yet. Last night we were talking before his prayers and he said "Mom, when God sees my heart it's not black with sin, right? He sees Jesus." I want to cry every time something like that comes out of his mouth. Now if I can just convince him there are no pirates in the Easter story...
Back to the false religions- we've been talking about Easter lately and trying to associate Jesus with the holiday. Charlie almost has it figured out. "So, mom, the bad guys were there, and Jesus died on the cross, and GUESS WHAT, he didn't stay dead! And I'm so happy because now Jesus can look for easter eggs, too!"
Then last night it was warm enough to go for a walk. There is a beautiful cemetary on our road that is good for walking. I know that sounds creepy but it isn't- it's actually very nice! Charlie wanted to know about all the tombstones so we tried to explain that when people die this is where their bodies go (okay, now that I'm typing that it does sound a little creepy). "Great! Hey Dad? Which one is Jesus?" He decided to call Nana when we got back from our walk and tell her about how we couldn't find Jesus because the bad guys wouldn't let us which at that point I think he was very involved with an imaginary tale involving pirates and buried treasure.
As funny as his comments are it's been exciting to see him work out this stuff himself. Sometimes we correct him (like last night we explained Jesus isn't there because he isn't dead) but most of the time we let him mull over it himself. He has his pastor's kid moments- mostly on Sunday evenings when he has to sit with me in big church. Chad says pastor's kids are a reminder from God to be humble! I'm amazed by the things he knows in his heart- things I haven't even explained to him yet. Last night we were talking before his prayers and he said "Mom, when God sees my heart it's not black with sin, right? He sees Jesus." I want to cry every time something like that comes out of his mouth. Now if I can just convince him there are no pirates in the Easter story...
Monday, March 12, 2007
I used to write...
A lot, actually. I would list it as a hobby whenever that question would come up. Mostly just letters and journaling. I started writing letters to my summer camp friends when I was 10. As time went on and I met different people (college, summer jobs, old friends who moved) my letter writing circle increased. I would even write the mom of one of my college friends- mostly because I loved hearing back from her. She says the most beautiful things in her letters. My senior year in high school I started journaling...daily. I remember thinking that I wouldn't make it another minute without my head exploding when I was 17. I found a notebook and discovered that if I could empty all those things swirling around in my head onto that paper I could breathe again. Journaling was my escape. I would journal so much that I'd go through a journal or two a year from start to finish. Who actually fills a journal? I have stacks of journals spanning a ten year period of my life. High school, college, marriage, moves, my first child...
But then I stopped. It didn't fade out like some hobbies do- I know the exact day I stopped. I had a miscarriage in December of 2005 and I didn't know what to write after that. I wanted to write. I wanted to send letters to my friends and tell them I was okay and I wanted to write in my journal and tell God I wasn't mad. Holding the pen over the paper and staring at the blank page seemed daunting instead of refreshing. There were no words to write what I was feeling and I felt like if I actually wrote about the miscarriage that would confirm that it was true. If I didn't write it down it would be like it never happened.
The truth is I was okay and I wasn't mad. I was in a lot of pain. I've never felt that broken in my life. But, like any major life changing event, it re-shaped my heart and strengthened my faith. The trouble was I couldn't get back into my writing. It took awhile to work through some of my fears. I've bought two journals since and they are still bare. I sporadically send a note card every now and then but they are brief. I'm not sure why. I think it has something to do with getting out of the habit and developing some new ones. I miss writing. My husband and my mom have been asking when I'll write again and I usually shrug my shoulders and change the subject. I miss it but what if I'm no good at it anymore? What if I've become one of those "how are you? I am fine," letter writers? Sometimes I feel like I don't have words in me anymore.
I've decided to jump in with this blog. There is accountability here. I love to read blogs but I especially like to check in with the blogs that I know are updated frequently. I'm going to write and maybe it will be great reading and maybe it will be pretty terrible. But at least I'm writing. And accountable. And it already feels pretty good.
But then I stopped. It didn't fade out like some hobbies do- I know the exact day I stopped. I had a miscarriage in December of 2005 and I didn't know what to write after that. I wanted to write. I wanted to send letters to my friends and tell them I was okay and I wanted to write in my journal and tell God I wasn't mad. Holding the pen over the paper and staring at the blank page seemed daunting instead of refreshing. There were no words to write what I was feeling and I felt like if I actually wrote about the miscarriage that would confirm that it was true. If I didn't write it down it would be like it never happened.
The truth is I was okay and I wasn't mad. I was in a lot of pain. I've never felt that broken in my life. But, like any major life changing event, it re-shaped my heart and strengthened my faith. The trouble was I couldn't get back into my writing. It took awhile to work through some of my fears. I've bought two journals since and they are still bare. I sporadically send a note card every now and then but they are brief. I'm not sure why. I think it has something to do with getting out of the habit and developing some new ones. I miss writing. My husband and my mom have been asking when I'll write again and I usually shrug my shoulders and change the subject. I miss it but what if I'm no good at it anymore? What if I've become one of those "how are you? I am fine," letter writers? Sometimes I feel like I don't have words in me anymore.
I've decided to jump in with this blog. There is accountability here. I love to read blogs but I especially like to check in with the blogs that I know are updated frequently. I'm going to write and maybe it will be great reading and maybe it will be pretty terrible. But at least I'm writing. And accountable. And it already feels pretty good.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
My First Post
In the front of my Bible I've listed verses that I want to remember. I'm awful at memorizing so next to the references I've written three or four words to help me remember. The title of my blog is from that list. I Cor 15:10 says, "By the grace of God I am what I am..." Paul is talking about what a mess he was before Christ and how he's still a mess but by God's grace he is being used to fulfill God's purpose. That's me- a mess but willing to be used by God for his purpose. I am by grace.
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