chairs

Well, I'm home. And with being home it brings a flood of emotions -- happy and sad and grateful and nostalgic and exhausted {is that an emotion?} and melancholy and more.

Yet, here I sit tonight, with dinner being prepared, and the laundry churning, and remnants of vacation, of Woodland, slowly being put away. The marshmallows from the smores are sitting on the table and the decks of cards scattered on the island and piles of sand rest by the front door. Waiting to be swept up. So that "real" life can resume.

Vacations make me think about life. I begin to ponder how I spend my time -- how I tend to live in that frenzied sort of existence -- and then how just as quickly I can live in a small one bedroom cabin, with dirt roads, and heavy screen windows, and a lake 30 feet away, and a fraction of my earthly possessions and I can feel more content than I do with all my stuff.

Peaceful.

All the stuff that I think I need to do and have and go and be doesn't really bring happiness. The stuff? It becomes more that I need to manage, put-away, take care of, sort, sell, donate, clean, launder, read, and deal with. And that takes away time from my family.

And that brings me to chairs. Those brightly colored chairs from the 50's were the chairs where my family gathered and sat less than 24hours ago. All of us -- even though there was packing to do -- we took our last moments up at the lake to sit together, around a fire, and live. It's a celebration of family. And of the real important.

I want to live knowing that I've spent time sitting in those chairs -- wherever they may be -- with my family.

It's a slowing down.

I don't want to lose the lesson of Woodland.

I just want to sit for a moment longer.

the little moments matter

The light peeked through the windows as heavy gray clouds danced across the horizon. Raindrops slowly fell, leaving splatters of dampness on the deck.

Samuel sat on his knees at our worn oak dining table. His little feet hung off the back of the bench, his yellow nuk alternating between his mouth and resting on the table. Carefully he balanced while eating his bowl of cereal splashed with lactose free milk. A late afternoon snack for my hungry boy.

{sweet blue eyed Samuel}

I watched him.

I watched as his little hands, his right wrist still sporting the hospital arm band that he keeps asking to have back on, grabbed the spoon and worked to get those round gorilla munch puffs in his mouth. A couple would fall, but he'd keep working. Sighing sighs of contentment between drippy bites.

My heart felt at peace.

As I watched that sweet boy of mine eat I began to remember. I remembered how just a mere four months ago he had no energy to eat. I remembered my eyes welling with tears as I saw him rest on the floor -- with no energy to play. I remembered how he slept throughout the day. His pale, pale face. The vacant eyes. And I remembered the pain and the look of sadness in his eyes pleading with me to make it better. The slow horrible fade.

{then}

Humbled by memory, I looked up again. His attempt at neatness was done. Now the faded lime green bowl bought years ago at Ikea was upside down. Samuel was raking round morsels of gluten free goodness into his hands bit by bit. Some made it in his mouth, the rest onto the birch colored floor below.

I knew then that I should never take him eating for granted again.

It hit me so strongly -- the need to remember -- to be grateful for the little things like eating a late afternoon snack in late May.

He couldn't do it in January.

But now, by the grace of God, now my boy can.

That is a joyful thing.

Alleluia to God, our Healer.

Thank you for healing Samuel.

{now}

{I've linked up with what is on your heart}

a new opportunity....

I've been given the opportunity to try out for the Homeschool Crew with The Old Schoolhouse Magazine. What's that? It's a collection of bloggers that are given homeschool curriculum and products to review -- you know, test out on their family, and give an honest assessment.  After much prayer, I decided that I would continue to pursue the opportunity and see where the Lord leads it. It would be part of the homeschooling side of finding joy -- because that is a huge part of my family -- homeschooling {and curriculum} brings me joy.

*******

The Old Schoolhouse Store (TOS) sent me a copy of The Curiosity Files Blue Diamond (an 88 page e-book) for our family to review. Our unit study? On the Blue Diamond.  Okay, I admit, I was a bit skeptical about devoting days to learning about diamonds, but I knew I was going to give it a fair shot.  Needless to say, hearing Brennan ask me the second day if we were going to "keep learning about cool diamonds" was enough to prove me wrong.

The Curiosity Files -  Blue Diamond - was exactly that, about diamonds, but more specifically the rare blue diamond. However, it went much further than just describing the rarity of these colored diamonds -- did you know that for every 10,000 there is only 1 colored diamond?  And did you know how they're formed? An additional element, like Boron, gets in the diamond mix. The study also covers history, geography {where did diamond mining originate?}, science {how are they formed?}, vocabulary, writing, spelling, copywork pages, Bible Study, memory verses, math and more.

It was amazing.

As a mom who rarely does unit studies, but who always was interested this was an excellent start. I was blown away how a simple subject, like diamonds, could spring board to cover so many facets of learning.  I love The Curiosity File format because it provided all the text, with links and further references -- basically -- it was easy for me to sit down and learn with my children.  There were worksheets, and art projects, and notes, and math problems -- all with a diamond theme -- and yet still covering so many facets. {get it? facets?}

The Curiosity Files are available through The Old Schoolhouse Store and retail for only $6.95 each. There are many more that I know we'd be interested in -- specifically the Puffer Fish and Quicksand. {You can purchase a bundle package of nine for only $46.}

 I'm thinking I'd like those for the summer -- you know, for those days when everyone is just a tad bit bored and needs some direction and I need help finding it? This is a steal for all the information that you are provided. The study is recommended  for 8-13 years old. However, my seven year old, Brennan, who is now a diamond hunter {good luck with that in Minnesota} was very interested in learning all about the blue diamond. Especially the science and history aspects -- final fact -- did you know that the Hope Diamond was lost multiple times by it's owners? And that it's arrival to The Smithsonian was the most unusual? Anyone know how?

Pros? Ease of use. Can print out pages that I want. Bible Study portion.E book format. Wealth of information. Christian theme throughout. Easy and fun to read.

Cons? Printing it all out. In the future I'll simply read the book portion via the computer and print only what is needed. Also, if one is to print it out there is a great deal of "extra" printing due to the borders on the copy.

*******

I was provided a copy of The Curiosity Files - Blue Diamond E-book, valued at $6.95,  for review. If you'd like your own copy please visit The Old Schoolhouse Store by clicking HERE.

weeding out pride

Sometimes you just need to let go of that pride.
Wait.
Sometimes I just need to let go of my pride.

And graciously accept help.

Because, honestly, I can't do it all.

I can do my best.
But, sometimes I just need a friend.
A helping hand.

And I don't need to look like I got it all together. Figured out.

Perfect.

Because that is perfectionism.

Trying to keep everything look perfect is exhausting. Not real.
It's about self.
Me me me me.

I needed to weed it out. Let it go.

So yesterday, when my sweet and dear neighbor came to let me use her amazing vacuum she started to help me clean.  And my house was in need of some good loving cleaning. I could feel that pride -- the part that wanted it all together -- battling. I want to be the one who has all her charts, an organized house, an amazing meal plan, and more. But, I don't -- I do my best -- I work really hard -- but sometimes one gets behind. So I had to let it go. That earthly pride.  My neighbor is my friend. A real, stick with you in any time, friend.

She cleaned my floor, and the awfully dirty track to my sliding door, and some cabinets, and chairs, and my table and more. Graciously. Cheerfully.

I am grateful.  Because, you see, in this season of my life I've gotten just a tad bit overwhelmed with the spring cleaning. When Samuel was sick it set me behind weeks which shifted to months. That list of supposed to be spring cleaning was starting to get shoved to summer cleaning.

Until yesterday.

I swallowed any pride and replaced it with gratefulness. She is my friend. A blessing.

Being authentic and real means accepting help. Needing others. Doing life together.

And that's what happened.

We both cleaned. Side by side. Sharing time. Working.

I am so thankful.

Thankful for the fellowship and time.

{thank you, Maria, thank you}

And thankful for that perfectly cleaned patio door which is ready for spring....

growth

 
The morning light slowly awakens the world. As the sun creeps into the sky I walk. Alone. Past homes, and fields, and a lone farm -- a farm that was there long before the homes crowded around it. My thoughts are restless. Anxious. I know when I step back into my home that my list of to-do's will be longer than I can accomplish.

You need to get back. You're having company today. Think of the list to you have to do. If you were better, or did stuff like others maybe you'd be caught up.

My feet keep moving -- forward.  The sun is trying to burn through the layer of early spring morning fog. Drops of mist coat my hair, causing the once-straightened strands to regain their natural curl. Nature wins.

It's just seems impossible. If I could only be like them, maybe I'd get everything done. I have so much to learn and not enough time. How will I ever ever ever catch up?

Slowly, I begin to jog. I see some runners at the top of the hill. They've got the apparal -- you know, the perfect running gear. Here I am, slowly jogging, and slightly winded, wearing old black trackpants, a purple sweatshirt, and silly shoes. I look up. Give the courtesy nod, and quickly look down.

Why do you need to compare, Rachel? Does it really matter? You're out here. Trying. You aren't them.  Just keep moving.

My face is cold. I'm running into the wind, and that purple soccer sweatshirt is barely keeping me warm. Another car passes and I can feel myself trying to keep a good stride -- to look good while they drive by.

This is ridiculous. You need to stop comparing. Stop it, stop it, stop it.

 I start walking. As my body slows down I start to breathe in the morning. The buds of spring are everywhere waiting for that day when they can freely open and bring new color into a dull-toned world. One step, two step, three. I keep moving -- my neighborhood is across the street. I see the path where I walked yesterday with Caleb and Grace. There are pine cones dropped on the side of the road and I wonder if those were some of Caleb's treasures that he had stuffed into his orange sweatshirt.

Remember. You are NOT to define yourself the way you think the world wants you to be. You are NOT to define yourself even the way you think you should be. You need to be aware of God's view of you. He made you. You have a purpose, a reason, an intent. Lift up your head, embrace the day the Lord has blessed you with.  

I can see my home.  The rusty-red colored door is visible from the end of the block. Brown grass, dormant from winter carpets the front lawn.  I know it won't last. Within weeks it will be this vibrant green. Full of life and beauty.

You can do this. You can walk in that door with that lengthy list and you can be joyful. Thankful that you are blessed with a list of work to do. Thankful for each piece of laundry to be folded, and the yard to be raked, and the dishes to be washed. Thankful for the little boys who will try to snitch the brownies that you made last night. God defines you. Not those runners. Or that list. Or the mistakes. You are His creation. Your home is full of His blessings. Embrace it.

My hand reaches out and turns the front door handle. The knob with specks of mud attached thanks to little boys who create their best mud creations ever. As I turn it, I hear sweet little voices. My guys. 

Mom! You're home! Mom's home, she's home! Everybody, guess what? Mom's home!

I'm home. In my house of much to do. And I'm glad.  

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.... (Romans 12:2a)

How do you reset your mind? A walk? A drive? Coffee? Prayer? Laughter?
I'd love to hear your ways of regaining clarity in the everyday.

learning to be less like Martha

Grandpa Roger sits on the couch listening as the sounds of our family fill our home. Laughter from the boys, giggling from my girls -- happy sounds bouncing from wall to wall. He looks content. Peaceful. Happy to be here.

I'm scurrying around the kitchen desperately trying to get the last bits of dinner ready. The grill is smoking -- I'm sure I burnt something -- and the potatoes are ready to be mashed and mixed with bits of dill, butter, and salt. I need to get the plates, and find some cups, and put ice in the big bowl. And Samuel is pulling at my legs. Too much to do, and as the saying goes, too little time.

Grandma Penny and Elijah are nestled together reading a book about Mater from Cars. Elijah thinks it is so silly when Grandma talks in her low voice for Mater. His little feet wiggle with excitement, and his head rests ever so slightly on Grandma's arm. It's a beautiful sight -- generations together.

I'm sure it's burnt. I can't even find my shoes to get onto the deck to grab the meat. Then I see Brennan swinging away, without a coat, in the snow and my slip-on shoes resting on the wet, slushy ground. My only option is to try to scurry and find shoes, get Brennan to come quickly back with mine, or walk with socks onto a March-thawing covered deck of snow. The grill wins. I see the smoke now.

Afternoon light trickles through the floral curtains illuminating the new daffodils I picked up at Trader Joe's today.  Daffodils for $1.69 a bunch. Worth every cent for the breath of spring they bring into my home. Caleb runs over and takes a big sniff -- and I see him dreaming of spring -- of running outside and parks and green. He's just content to be. In the moment. Sitting at the table with yellow opening daffodils and the prospect of dinner coming.

Well, it's done. I've scraped off the burnt part, mashed the potatoes, and pulled out the thinly sliced marinated cucumber salad that I made earlier. I start calling for everyone to come and eat.  As their plates begin to weigh down with dinner I turn and start to clean. Scraping remnants of meat off the pan, scrubbing dishes, loading bowls, wiping the stove -- working. Away from family.

The conversations bounce around the table. "Grandpa, did you see?" and "Grandma, did you hear?" and "Aunt Lolly, will you play with us?" Faces smeared with barbeque sauce look eagerly at those they love, their guests, unaware that they even have remnants of dinner on their cheeks. They're just being. Laughing. Enjoying.



I stop. I put the scrubber down. I don't care that the food might stick. I grab the last plate, my plate, off of the island and start to dish up the food that I prepared. My plate gets heavy with blessed goodness. Slowly I walk through the afternoon sun streaming in the window and sit down next to my yellow daffodils, inbetween Chloe and Gracie. I sit. And listen. And laugh. And look at my family gathered around. And become grateful for this moment, this sacred time of being a family. Of togetherness.

We scrawl pictures on our papers and pass them around to each other eager to see what the next person would write. The boys are outside running through the snow piles, and Samuel and Elijah are once again resting on the couch between Daddy and Grandpa. I turn to write my caption. As my pen scratches words on the paper I pause and look around. I don't see work today. I see family. And love. And my heart is grateful. Grateful that I chose to rest and laugh. And just be.

get out the steel wool -- it's 59 degrees

{photo - hannah nicole}

That's what we woke up to this morning.  Inside our home.  Outside? It was a balmy -6degrees making the 59 feel like a faux heatwave. Yet, judging from the little ones wrapped in blankets and wandering around complaining about the cold, you'd know we weren't very comfortable.

The furnace wasn't working. 

And we were cold.

Immediately I began praying.  We didn't have the budget room to fix the furnace -- life was complicated and busy -- and we were cold.

57 degrees.

It was dropping.  The windows were starting to get ice on them.  I ran into the garage and found a space heater from my hubby's days in construction.  My little blanket wrapped babes gathered around the heater as if it were a glorious roaring fire from days long past.

We worked quickly downstairs in our utility room. Phone calls made. More prayers. More distracting myself trying to get all those loads of laundry folded in case a repair man came -- even though I was praying so hard that one wouldn't come. Socks, and t-shirts, jeans, and sweaters. The piles became higher as my worry tried to creep in.

55 degrees.

Now it almost seemed imminent - a repair man would need to be called. We called a friend -- who owned a hvac company -- and he told us to clean a sensor.  Fear crept in as I saw the bolts being unscrewed. Panel after panel coming down each with bold warnings about not messing around with the furnace. I heard the electric screwdriver whizzing and felt my heart racing.

I needed faith.  I needed to trust that my husband would be safe. Out came the steel wool.  Scrub, scrape, scrub.  More prayers. And we'd wait. Again. And again. We'd start it up, and hear it stop. More scrubbing and scraping.  More prayers from me as the piles of folded laundry grew higher.

Then we heard it. The furnace kicked in. And stayed on.

62 degrees.

The temp was going up. The little ones huddled around the once-intriguing and warming space heater gradually dispersed throughout the home. Life began to regain its normal rhythm.

I had forgotten to be grateful for heat.

It wasn't till it was gone that I realized just how thankful I am for that two inch sensor plate in our furnace.  It didn't look that dirty -- it just looked like a layer of white dust was resting on it. Yet, it took minutes and minutes of firm scrubbing and scraping to remove the film that triggered our furnace to shut off.

Isn't that like life? We get so wrapped up in our agendas and start operating out of ourselves that we forget to clean our sensor plates -- instead of resting and relying on God.  It becomes this time of self - until we burn out. And then we remember.

68 degrees.

The sun is pouring in -- the house is warm.  The boys are running around without shirts pretending to be on an expedition.  The windows are clear, and the laundry that was folded out of desperation is all put away.  But, I don't forget. It could be so different now - we could have had to pay hundreds of dollars. Our house could still be cold. In the end we just needed to take care of that sensor.

Just like my heart.

Thanks, Lord, for reminding me to look at my heart and pulling out the steel wool -- the truth in you -- to clean and scrape it and remove the grime so that it could be buffed clean of earthly lies and once again focused on you.

Warm.

a necessary reprieve

I have a dear friend who wrote me a sweet birthday note on facebook.

These were her words --Happy Day that the Lord brought you in to being...Praying that you- and all that you do, especially being that mirror reflecting God's love for His/your children, feel celebrated today. The word reprieve is coming to mind- so, this too I shall pray as I lift you to Him, even if the temporary relief is short...may it be sweet and you bask in His Light, His gift to you! Continuing to stand with you, Rachel ♥ -- (Thank you, sweet Cheri).

I received note after note and prayer after prayer from you, my blogging friends (thank you for your many birthday wishes), from my family, my church friends, and more that mirrored those words -- specifically that I would have a day of laughter, and fun, and fellowship.

A reprieve.

After taking Samuel to the doctor in the morning I came back home to find out that my family planned a surprise celebration for me.  There was an entire list of activities -- including a much needed nap -- planned for the day.  My house was spotless, there was fabulous gluten free food -- including a favorite Pad Thai -- and there was so much laughter. Laughter playing my ridiculously silly and fun new game Quelf.  Or lining up to take silly pictures in the photobooth that Hannah prepped.

Everyone knew.

I needed to laugh.

My heart has just been so heavy with my Samuel lately.

It was a beautiful thing to just laugh.

{And be a tad bit silly.}

(that would be me and Hanni and Chloe -- looking goofy)

 And to let the worries slip away, just for a bit.

Thank goodness for birthdays and good friends and a beautiful family.

I was blessed.

crabby mom versus cheerful mom

These days between Christmas and New Years Day are interesting, aren't they?  You still have Christmas decorations up, the house is a mess (at least parts of mine.  I go to my room or the bathroom for sanctuary.  They're probably the only rooms without new toys somewhere.), the schedule is screwed up, the kids have had way too much sugar, and honestly, there isn't much of a plan.

This can make me crabby.

Like Scrooge crabby.

  

(me probably thinking about where I'm going to put those toys)

I slowly begin to remove the snowmen, and the window clings, the Christmas dishes, and crumpled paper.  The clothes gradually make their way from warm bodies to the dirty basket in the laundry room.  Toys begin to migrate from under the tree to their respected homes in various kids rooms. This will go on until the day where I've decided that I've had enough. Then within hours my home will go from looking like a mild atomic bomb went off to clean.  Very clean. At least very clean standards for a family of nine.

I'm kind of like that.  I can put up with stuff for a while and then all of a sudden I can't handle it anymore. It's a mindset -- right?

Kind of like the day I really decide to potty-train my three year old. Or go switch the summer and winter clothes.  Or purge the closets of toys.  Or clean out the cabinets and fridge.  Or clean the truck. Or deal with those over due library books. Or empty the email inbox flooded with 1024 new emails. 

I'm thinking today or for sure tomorrow is the day when I reclaim my space.  Until then?  I'll live with Legos underfoot, and Woody Dolls in the corner, and a Mario Kart figurine on my computer desk, and the sound of the Wii downstairs.  And I won't be crabby about it.  I won't.

Because I know it's just a couple of days.  And their laughter, their freedom, their  is worth more than my need for order. That's what they'll remember.

Crabby mom vs cheerful mom who doesn't mind tripping over a couple dozen new toys.

Today that's my attitude. And, yes, I'll still be slowly taking down some of those decorations that were so artfully placed throughout my home weeks ago.  And I won't complain. 

oh those ads

my mother-in-laws salt & pepper shakers

Our newspaper was almost three inches thick yesterday. Ads stuffed the interior, with their glossy pages ladened with deals.  As I sat -- post turkey and slightly comatose -- perusing the ads I could feel my attitude shifting.

From gratitude to wanting.

All of a sudden what I did have seemed old.  Inadequate.  Out-date. Or I simply didn't have it and now found myself wanting it.

Then I stopped.

Not that shopping or looking at ads is bad.  Not at all -- in fact I'll probably be going out later today.  It came down to my heart.  Here I lamented not having cool gadgets, or a new couch, or some great boots -- and there are children around the world eagerly waiting for a shoe box of gifts (my Hannah will be working at Operation Christmas Child today packaging those boxes). Or those without food who await a simple bologna sandwich each day. (see my post on 363days)  Because they have nothing.  Or at least very little.

Who am I to complain?  Where did my heart go when I picked up that tome of ads? When did entitlement creep in?

Then last night I came home to read and comment on the ABC's of Thanks Link Ups.  I simply was blown away reading the lists.  The amount of blessings that I overlooked was glaring.  And yet, when I read your lists, I was humbled.  Reminded.  And so so grateful.

Today, on Black Friday, can I encourage you to read some of the ABC's of Thanks lists or to write your own?  You don't need to link-up -- it's not about pressure -- it's more about keeping the heart centered on the blessings in our lives versus the onslaught of ads pushing things they want us to have. Those items in the ads are good -- blessings -- shopping is a blessing -- it's just keeping the heart centered and focused and content. It's the difference between need and want.  For me writing down items of thanks and reading lists of gratitude re-centered my heart. I think, my friends,  you'll be blessed.

I am joyfully thankful today.

(if you haven't done yours and would like to I've kept the link open till Saturday.

 The link is above. And thank you to all who linked up.)

Sanity for the vehicle

My family is in the truck many times per week.  Driving to ballet. Driving back.  Driving to homeschool classes, grandmas, or church.  We are moving.

Let me just state this -- it is hard.  Hard to load everyone up (especially in the winter), hard to keep them happy, hard to keep going.  So what keeps me going?

My Car (or truck or van) Sanity Tips

1) A beverage of choice for mom.  Mine would be coffee.  However, many times I'll just take water with.  It helps me think and calm down especially if there is a great deal of NOISE.

I know you've seen this -- but it is so true --coffee helps

2) Books on CD.  Our family's favorite?  Anything narrated by Jim Weiss.  Just today we were listening to tales about giants.  Brennan, my six year old, loves these stories.  His favorite?  A tall tale about Finn McGoul from Ireland.

current choice

3) A clean vehicle.  Seems obvious, but I'll tell you -- if my vehicle is a mess it makes the crabbiness level in me rise several notches.  I've made it a point to clean out the trash whenever I get gas for the truck.  And I try to vacuum it out every two weeks.  Clean truck = happy mom.

4) For really long trips?  The Nintendo DS or a Leapster.  I know, I know, I know.  That advice coming from  me?  But truly, a half hour of media really saves me.  It is just too crowded to have them go hysterical. Or me.

5) My misbehaving trick?  For every minute that I have to use disciplining it equals a minute of sitting with me in the truck when we arrive at our destination.  This truly works.  After all, who wants to arrive at Grandmas, or Dairy Queen, or the park and have to sit in the truck with me?  Not that I'm not great, but you get the picture.

that's Elijah -- not too happy

6) The old classic games.  ABC game (where you find the letters), I Spy, or where we make stories based on where we're driving.


What car tricks do you have?  I'd love to hear.  I'll take any advice. :)

Oh yeah.  One more thing.  I've been known to pull over and pray.  That always helps.  And gets the kids attention.

letting go of this

You need this.

Buy this.

If you have this product your life will be a breeze.

This curriculum will make your kids smart.

This van will make driving easy.

This is how your kids need to behave.

This is how you need to look.

This is the church you need to go to.

If you would follow this simple program you can be happy.

This is how your lawn should look.

You let your kids watch this on television?

This day is only successful if you get all this done.

Lost your temper?  This day is not worth redeeming.

This is your response?  You don't have patience.

This is success.

_________________________________

What is this? My inbox, my mail, and my mind are cluttered with these notions of things that I don't have and things that I seem to need. I read the catalogs of homeschool rescources and gradually begin to think that what I have is not enough. That I'm missing out. That my kids are missing out. I look at the food in the organic section, read articles on gmos, and get stressed over the food. I walk through the fitness aisle at Target and feel guilt when I see the numerous dvds on working out.

I start to feel as if I fail.

No longer am I content. Instead my mind races from this to this to this -- spinning itself into a flurry of anxiety. I want the cycle to stop. Yet, the world and all it's labels wants to scream fail deep into my spirit.

How to let it go? How to say NO when it's all around.

It's not of me. Well, it is -- in the choice to seek my identity first in Christ. But, honestly blogging, it's so hard. It's difficul to be content when I focus on what I don't have.  My mind seems to be looking for all the this things that I don't have.  And gradually, I've been finding myself filled with anxiety.

Yesterday, as I was driving to the homeschool store I realized (again) how I was living by emotion -- driven by all the  jargon of the world.  My hands were gripping the wheel, and I missed out on the beautiful country side.  My heart raced, as my thoughts scrambled.

I wasn't living in peace.  I was living in the world.  Jesus said,

Peace I give to you.

He gives it.  A gift.  I was ignoring His peace and living on the world's peace.  And, friends, there is no peace if the world is your platform.  I know.  So I write about it.  Again.  Because, truly, living by the Spirit isn't a one time decision.  It's daily.  Hourly.

Right now?  I'm struggling.  But, I'm trying.  And part of trying, for me, is writing about it.  And being real that I struggle with this.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

(John 14:27)

crying in the chip aisle

 a small sampling of my groceries in the back of the truck

Yes, you read that right.  My title is Crying in the Chip Aisle. Who was crying?  That would be me.

Today. 

I was simply overwhelmed.  I went to get groceries.  In my house, when I leave to go to the store, my entire, lovely, and always cheerful (grin) clan wants to come with.  At that point I have two options.

A) take all of them with me and add at least 90 minutes to my shopping time and come home with numerous items that I didn't need and go over my budget and deal with many people asking me, "are they all yours?"

or 

B) go by myself (or with the one helper as I typically try to take one with me and of course I have cute Samuel) and stay within dollars of the budget goal while sipping a caramel latte and having extra minutes to leisurely browse the numerous clearance racks while menu planning in my head.

Now, with the aid of the post title, can you guess which option I chose today?  Yes ---  that would be -- Option A.

Not with everyone, mind you -- and I honestly wanted them to come.  I love my kids.  I just reached overwhelm.  In the chip aisle.  My awesome four year old guy, Caleb, has more energy then he knows how to handle.  I'd spent an hour carefully dodging his darting figure at Target, and then another hour re-directing him at CUB Foods.  By the time I'd apologized six or seven times for his quick cut in front of another cart, and answered "no, not today," to Grace for the 45th item she'd like to purchase I simply had enough.

So I began to cry -- quietly -- in the chip aisle.  In front of the Salt and Vinegar and Dill Pickle Chips. Small tears of self-pity formed in my weary eyes.  I just wanted to sit down and stop.  Then as soon as I began I remembered an interaction I had about 35 minutes prior.

Move to the deli.

As I was ordering my half-price honey ham, and already exhausted, my sweet Gracie was interacting with Samuel.  It was kind of bugging me -- she was loud and jumping up and down -- but Samuel was laughing.  Then this kind old man who works at the grocery store comes up to me with a wide grin.  He stops.  And watches.  And says,

What a blessing.  It's so beautiful to see siblings who love each other.  You're blessed.

That's what  I needed to remember.  Blessings. So, I quickly grabbed a bag of the sale chips (two for one tortilla chips -- in case you were curious), placed them in a precarious place in my bulging cart, and walked over and gave the wiggly Caleb of mine a hug.

Looks like God gave me a live example of switching things around.  I lost sight of the beauty -- only to hear it in the deli and find it again in the chip aisle.

 and that would be sweet Caleb -- on the way home today.  I love him.

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those pesky weeds

This morning I woke up to a bit of chaos. The boys were wild, Todd was going to work, Hannah had ballet, and I was feeling a teeny bit sorry for myself.  Scratch that.  Make it -- I was in a full-fledged, self-pity party of lament.

I started to clean the kitchen, and grabbed the empty pizza boxes from the night before.  Self-righteously I carried them outside to the trash can.  Threw them in. Started back inside and stopped.  Staring down I saw several weeds poking up and lining my front walk.  In my flower garden.  I crouched down and started pulling those weeds.  Weed after weed after weed.  It felt good.  I could look and see where I had worked, I could see the clean mulch--losing it's brilliant red after a year--yet now weed free.

With each weed that I plucked from the earth I began to unearth the lies that I was fighting.  Lies about worth.

With each weed that I pulled I began to see beauty.  Beauty and hope that was covered by lies.

With each weed that I discarded I freed up my flowers to grow.  I saw my sin.  Repented.  And started again.

With each weed wilting on the sidewalk I felt blessed freedom.

Isn't it ironic how the Lord speaks to us?  For me, today, it was in some random clover and chickweed that decided to take root in my flower bed.  Those perennial plants reminded me to tend to the pesky and worldly weeds in my mind.

²Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:2)

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Thanks for sticking with me lately.  I know that my posts lately have been a bit more challenging.  It's just a season that I'm in right now.  When life is difficult it helps me find freedom in writing.  Maybe it's not always funny, but it's real.  It's my heart.  

Have a blessed Saturday.

why I blog

Lately, I've been getting comments wondering where I find time to blog. And these comments got me pondering, once again,
why I carve out time to blog.

First, I'm just a mom.  And a wife.  And a friend. And a daughter.  And I like to be busy.  I'm one of those people who has a hard time sitting still.  Literally.  In fact, when we have company over (like today) it is almost excruciating for me to sit.  This, I know, needs to change.  I need to learn to relax, to have fun, to enjoy.  The truth?  If I'm away from my home I can do this.  When I'm home?  It's almost impossible.  I just love being busy.  And, honestly, when I'm busy I don't think and dwell on the hard things of life -- instead I pray and surrender while I work. 

Still, that's not why I blog.

I find time to blog because it helps me think.  It helps me to process life.  I'm able to push myself to do better, to create a game, or cook new things, or read that book -- it's as if I see life through a different lens.  Life is hard.  It just is.  And, it really isn't fair.  I've learned (and I commented on Lynnette Krafts blog about this tonight--she wrote a great post about the idea of fairness) that if I stick in the category of thinking that it's not fair  then I'm stuck.  It's like having one foot on the accelerator and the other on the brakes.  I may create a lot of noise, and friction, and heat -- but no movement.

Somehow blogging helps me

lift my foot off the brake.  

I'm able to start processing and letting go of all of the it's not fair labels that I grasp.  I think about how Jesus needs to be the center of my life, and in the process I begin to see life differently.  In those moments, the realness of God is tangible, and His truth sings to my heart.  Maybe it's in a sign, like one-ways, or in the grass, or the grill, or my little Elijah, or even sweeping.  Whatever it is, the truth that He is permeates my life.  And I feel compelled to write about it.  To share the intimate joy that loving the Savior brings.  And to share those moments where I'm burdened, weighed down -- those real and raw times -- because, my friends, we all have them.  And when you're in one of those pit places of life it feels so lonely.  Like no one would ever ever understand.  I always pray that some of my vulnerability in blogging encourages another to stand up and cling to whatever glimmer of faith is trying to spark in their heart.  For where there is light, there is hope. And I cling to hope.

I love blogging.  I love writing.  And I love speaking and sharing my story.  It's not about me.  It's about my Jesus.  It's about giving Him all the hurts, and trials, and sadness coupled with the joy, happiness and everyday, and telling Him "Here am I" and asking Him to use me for His good.  His purpose.

I give all glory to Him. 

I'm just a person, living a life filled with joys and sorrows.  A writer.  A feeler.  One who wants to share.  To encourage.  To be a light in a dark and weary world.  To be joyful. To laugh, and cry. To learn. To be real. To live.

That, my friends, is why I blog.

surrender

loads we carry

(elijah with my sister fall 2009)

Do you ever have days, or weeks, or even months when the cares of the world cloud you from the truth?

Do you ever lose sight of what true beauty is?  And in the process replace beauty with something of this world?

Do you ever wake up overwhelmed before you start?

I do.

Do you ever feel the more you believe in truth the harder the battle will be?

Do you ever feel alone?  Like there's more to do then you can handle?

Do you ever feel hurt?

I do.

If you do too...you are not alone.

I was thinking of writing this funny, uplifting, eloquent post tonight.  I tried to write.  I looked through pictures, and thought of the the laughs and many joys of the day. I wanted to write about the amazing gifts my children blessed me with today (and that will be coming...wait till you see what Hannah surprised me with from a fellow blogger, Lindsey)  Yet, I couldn't come up with words that felt, well...real.  They seemed forced, made-up, as if they were words attempting to give the illusion of a heart that felt at peace.

So instead, I spoke my heart.  My questions.  My wonders.  And in writing those questions, I began to surrender those thoughts of insecurity.  Instead of carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, it began to slide off.  Freedom.  From me?  No.  The surrender came from realizing that Jesus doesn't want me to figure all that out on my own.  He's my all in all.  Am I supposed to latch onto the lies and hurts of this world? No.  I need to rest in the truth of Jesus despite all things. Despite my own thoughts, my short-comings, and my worries.  He trumps them all.

When Todd was going through cancer treatments a very dear friend of mine gave me a Sara Groves cd.  To this day, I don't know if this friend knows how special and important she is to me...Still...I love her, as a sister in Christ and hold our friendship in a treasured place in my heart.  Anyways, the words of Sara Groves were a balm for an aching soul.  There were many songs that have deep meaning to me, even to this day.  In fact, when I give my testimony, I often play one of her songs at the end.  But there's one song, that my mind started running as I wrote those questions.  That song?  Remember Surrender.  It's beautiful.  And true. And needed.  And sadly, so often forgotten.

let it go

I had forgotten to surrender.  Those thoughts?  Those fears?  Those deep hurts?  I was carrying the weight.  I had forgotten the truth.  The truth that Jesus, sweet Jesus, will carry me.

Remember surrender
Remember the rest
Remember that weight lifting off of your chest
And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was

Remember surrender
Remember relief
Remember how tears rolled down both of your cheeks
As the warmth of a heavenly father came closing in

I want to do that again
Why can't I live there
And make my home
In sweet surrender
I want to do so much more than remember

Remember surrender
Remember the peace
Remember how soundly you fell fast asleep
In the face of your troubles your future still shone like the morning sun

Remember surrender
Remember that sound
Of all of those voices inside dying down
But one who speaks clearly of helping and healing you deep within

I want to do that again
Why can't I live there
And make my home
In sweet surrender
I want to do so much more than remember

Remember
Oh surrender...I want to do that again
Oh why can't I liver there and make my home
In sweet surrender
I want to do so much more than remember

Remember
Remember surrender
Remember the rest
Remember that weight lifting off of your chest
And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was.

(by Sara Groves 2002)

me vs. the grill and some various thoughts

it's been windy here.  Really, really windy.  Then I got the idea to grill burgers.  In intenseWIND.  Then Hannah got the idea to take pictures of me attempting to flip burgers that were flaming up in gusts of wind.  Actually, she got the idea AFTER she saw licks of flame escaping from the side of our grill.  Final results?  Fire = zero.  Us = exceptionally flame-grilled burgers.  mmmmmmmmmm......

it's time for battle

careful, careful

taming the grill

Man, those burgers were good.

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Abigail Kraft@ rear window watched the vlog that Hannah put up yesterday on her blog. (want to watch? click here ) In that "lovely" video it has me interacting with my Samuel, Hannah and Chloe.  And, to put it mildly, being a little bit silly.  Anyways, Abigail emails Hannah and states that she loves our Northern accent.  WHAT?  Just because I live in Minnesoooooota?  And I have an accent?  Grin...her comment almost made me spit out my coffee in laughter.  Almost.

Actually, I already know about my blessed Minnesotan accent.  When we lived in San Diego people would stop me to hear me talk.  Really.  I was working part-time and I was the person to be around.  I don't realize how prominent it is until I leave Minnesota and come back.  A couple years ago we went to this large family retreat in southern Missouri.  Of course, everyone loved the voice when we were there.(another fun side note I met Amy from raisingarrows at this retreat.  She is a blessing!)  Once we arrived back in our beauty of a state I began to hear it....that long drawing out of vowels.  Especially the letter o.  And I thought, "do I really sound like that?" hee hee hee....yep.

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I won Lynnette Kraft's (Abigail's delightful mother) Getting to Know You contest for April (see my side bar).  I won this amazing canvas print...actually I decide what goes on it.  So I'm thinking I'm going to do this photo of Samuel.  My canvas size is 16x20.  What do you think? And THANK YOU Lynnette.  Seriously.  Thank you.

this pic?

I also want to thank Wendy, from faithsfirmfoundation.  She had a give-away and I won this great pilates dvd.  My daughters take pilates (as part of their classical ballet program) and rave about it.  They've wanted me to come for so long.  Now I'm going to try this and then hopefully attempt their class.  Thank you Wendy. And as a neat side note...Wendy and I found out that we live less than five miles from each other.  We had no idea prior to this give-away.  Once I sent her my address the reality came out!  Too fun! Want to meet at Caribou, Wendy?  I'll be there....:)

I blog for fun....I never expected to win anything.  So this was mega fun!

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finally...I want to once again clarify that my last post was about my own journey with words.  I have ONLY received beautiful and lovely thoughts from all of you.  So thank you.  Thanks for putting up with my thoughts about life. You guys are blessings!

By the way if you'd like to receive my blog posts via your email I've got my feedburner set up .  Simply click here....Subscribe to finding joy by Email