see this sweet guy?

He's Caleb.

And he's independent.

And this morning -- I almost forgot to see the good, the strong, the independence.

Instead I saw what I thought was wrong.

We were in those last minutes before church. You know those minutes -- crazy times -- running around looking for that lone lost shoe, and rushing kids up to the bathroom {even though they'll ask to leave during the sermon}, and quick bites to eat.  Caleb was hungry so he decided to get himself a bowl of cereal. With sugar.

All I saw was spilled sugar.

I almost blurted out some annoyed words about the trail of sugar between the cereal bowl and the sugar bowl. But, for some reason I saw that face and had a moment of pause.

I was only seeing what I deemed a mistake, not the independence. The good. The growing up.

Why was that 1/4 teaspoon of sugar all I saw? Why did that become the important?

For that split second when I realized the truth my heart stung. I realized that instead of praising him I was so close to getting after him. He wasn't being careless -- he's five -- he was trying to help. Be independent.

So instead I told him great job, and that he's such a helper, and how proud of him I was.

Next thing I know, without me even asking or mentioning it, he went and got a paper towel and cleaned up the sugar {and yes, most of it's on the floor}. He sat down, looked at me, and smiled. A proud "I did it" type of smile.

Thank goodness that we as mothers get those moments of clarity.

I just need it more often.

****

When have you had that moment of sweet clarity?

mud can be beautiful

Spring has come.

Along with that comes buds popping, birds returning, grass growing, and mud.

Everywhere.

Kay, at Heart and Soul Pursuits, started a new project called Inspire Me. A couple weeks ago she contacted me asking if I could write about specific ways in which I live -- destined, devoted or daring -- and how. Honestly, I really believe that life is a collection of all three each ebbing and flowing creating each day. That being said, right now, in my journey, I've been focused on the idea of devoted.

Devoted to finding joy.
Devoted to my family.
and
Devoted to embracing who God made me to be.

You see, I struggle with thinking that I'd be better if -- if I was better scheduled, or more structured, or I finish an entire curriculum, or my house was like this, or I look like this, or so on. As I gradually begin to listen to these ifs regarding myself I begin to focus on just the mud.

At least it seems like mud to me.

So I've been praying. And thinking. And pondering. And starting to recognize that maybe, just maybe, I need to start resting in some of the character traits that I've been fighting. These traits are who the Lord designed me as -- and that instead of running from what I think is muddy I just need to sit in and embrace it.

Here's an example:  I've looked at how I homeschool -- without the rigorous box checking and tight daily schedule -- and have realized how I've fought that part of me for years.  I so wanted to fit this mold of what I thought was ideal homeschooling -- so sure that that way was the right way and certainly convinced that my way didn't measure up.

Ever since Samuel got sick with Celiac Disease this winter, God has used that challenging situation to challenge me. I've begun to look at myself and our homeschooling philosophy as no longer muddy, but unique, designed for our family and for our lives. We find joy and beauty and life in it -- from choosing to utilize a sunny day and work in the garden and save math for the days of rain or snow or in making lunch together at 1:30 pm instead of 12 noon sharp or in letting my kids read and read and read and read and forgetting the schedule for the morning.

Or letting them play in the mud. Being creative. Kids.

God designed me. I've become determined to embrace and devote myself to becoming who HE wants me to be -- not who I think I should be or who I think others think I should be or who the world says I should be -- but the wife, mother, daughter, friend that is what Christ wants.

And sometimes, just sometimes, that discovery means being okay in the mud.

Because even mud is beautiful.

My challenge to you? Start looking and praying about the muddy places. Maybe, just maybe, those things that we don't like are exactly how we're meant to be.

the bottom line

Bottom line?  Life can be tedious day in and day out.  There aren't many gold stars given to moms.  We just work and work and work.  And after awhile it's easy to start to carry a grudge -- resentment can creep in -- and then the beauty of life starts to fade away.  Dishes, and reading, and laundry, and cleaning, and teaching, and all that becomes overwhelming.  Life appears to be a list of never-ending to-do items.

Bottom line? Those areas of life can be redeemed.  They can be beautiful.  For me, it's when they're surrendered.  It's those breath by breath moments asking for Christ's strength coupled with asking Him to reveal the honor and beauty in being a mom.  A wife.  A daughter.

Bottom line?  Society yearns to rob the dignity of womanhood from us.  Being a mother isn't noble -- we hear.  You're not beautiful -- screams in our faces.  You'll never measure up -- we read.  Everywhere we're reminded of how we potentially fail.  Truth?  We're (especially me) listening to the wrong voices.  Rather than the taunts of the world we need to be focused on truth. My barometer of self can never be measured on the world's scale.  Ever.

Bottom line?  I failed last night.  I was crabby and discontent and overwhelmed.  To make it worse, it was on Chloe's birthday.  Nothing like adding salt to a wound.  I was just frustrated and tired and my family knew it.

Bottom line? My night was redeemed.  Not by myself.  But in humbling myself.  Letting go of pride.  And instead focusing on the truth in Christ. It took me stepping away. Taking ten minutes by myself.  Honestly telling my kids that I needed to be alone for just a bit.  And then looking at my mistakes.  Writing.  Admitting that I'm not perfect.  Seeking forgiveness.  And starting again.

Bottom line?  I love that Christ's mercies are new every morning.  That is fabulous news.  Especially for me...today's bottom line? Letting go of that need for perfectionism and instead focusing on my word - content - and truly living that way.

the whine redirected

It's not fair.

I don't want to do more.

I did that last time.

It's not, not, not fair.

********

Three little words -- it's not fair -- spoken so freely at times in my home.  Whether it's the dishes, or the laundry, or tidying up a room, all too often I hear those disgruntled words muttered from the mouths of my babes.  That statement drives me batty.

The work would go faster with a good attitude.

Yet, there's a tendency to get stuck in making everything equal.  Life simply isn't fair -- I'll tell them.  When my kids adopt an attitude of needing everything fair - it spins our entire day in a frenzy.  It's not about fair.  It's about an attitude of servanthood. Of looking beyond self and seeking to help those around you.  Even if it's your seven year old brother or fourteen year old sister.

The sooner one can let go of the idea of trying to make everything equal and balanced - the sooner there can be peace found in one's heart.   Trust me.  I know.  How often do I lament how things don't seem fair in my own life?  And when I allow my thoughts to linger there the more discontent I become.

Life isn't about fair.

When the heart is right, work is easier, and it's not fair is no more.

As a family we work on heart issues.  We emphasize the good in those around me or the blessings we have or how we should be grateful for the dishes to put away or the clothes to fold.  When the perspective shifts from self then the need to be fair in everything lessens.

Can you guess what kind of day we've had so far?

And can I tell you that now it's developing into a beautiful day?

The sun is shining.  The dishes are done.  And my children are grateful.

beauty through tired eyes

that's Elijah after his Aunt Abby did his hair

See my sweet Elijah?  With his crazy spikey gel-covered hair?

He's sick today.  So sick -- we knew.  Instead of running, he sat.  Instead of climbing, he cuddled.  Todd called as I was dropping the girls off at ballet and requested that I bring him to urgent care.  When the husband asks that I take a child to the doctor - I listen and move.

So I brought my sweet three year old to the doctor, and ended up sharing a bit of our story.  Some snippets of our cancer journey made it to the surface, and by the end of the check up the urgent care doctor was calling Elijah a miracle.  I loved that.  It was endearing to me to have a man, a virtual stranger, care deeply for my little man.

It's easy to overlook those moments, isn't it?  We can hurry about dashing from errand to appointment to the store to ballet and gradually we lose the gifts tucked into those snippets of time.  Like a doctor, calling my son 'Lijee, instead of Elijah.  I found out that this doctor has a son of his own named Elijah.  How else would he know such an endearing nickname, and one that we use, to call our son?

I was thankful.

At Target, while filling our prescription, I was blessed by the pat on my hand from the pharmacist.  She must have seen the weariness in my eyes -- between Samuel's croup and Elijah and the other boys' coughs -- I am tired.  She told me, after explaining how to correctly dose Zithromax, to have a blessed afternoon.  She could have just left and moved onto the next customer.

I was thankful.

Then tonight, a dear friend listened as I replayed the saga of my week.  She didn't hurry my story.  She listened.  Oh, how I needed an empathetic ear, to feel cared for, and to be encouraged.

I was thankful.

Sometimes the ordinary moments of a frenetic day yields the most beautiful lessons.  Lessons in listening, and caring, and speaking.  God can meet us in unique and intimate ways throughout our days.  From a nickname, to a blessing to a friend -- those are gifts -- ones that I could have missed or taken for granted.  Yet, for some reason, today with my exhausted body I saw them.

I am thankful.

____________

Just in case you're wondering, my little Elijah has a double ear infection and the starts of pneumonia. We knew he had taken a turn for the worst when he refused to get off our laps and would just rest on the floor.  He's had a bad cough since last week Friday, and it seemed to be mending, but just today shifted.  He's sleeping now.  And, I'm thankful for that as well -- and for trusting my husband's instincts.

Elijah -today- at Target waiting for his medicine

uncooked noodle

That's how I've felt.

Inflexible.

Brittle.

As I prepared dinner several nights ago, on a day where my body was worn, I paused as I watched the boiling water on my stove.  I held some angelhair noodles in one hand and as I dropped them into the churning water I began to realize how I was like that uncooked noodle. As soon as it hit the water the noodle immediately changed shape -- it became soft, had energy, and moved easily.

Unlike me.

Due to the lack of water in my life I gradually became worn -- and quite easily broken.

And I'm not talking about 2 parts hydrogen to 1 part oxygen here.

I'm talking about living water -- life from the Lord.   Sadly, many days I'd wake up and continue on my day with my old strength.  Slowly my gaze shifted to things of this world.  What wasn't done. What I needed to do.  What wasn't right.  What wasn't working.

I needed life.

If anyone is thirsty let him come to me  and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.  John 7 : 37-38

But how?  How with life with seven kids?  With homeschooling? And ballet? And being a wife?

I'm tired.  Really tired.  I've got sick children (yes, they're still sick).  And bills to pay.  And chores.  When, Lord, when?  How to do this? 

I had convinced myself that the only way to "properly" give myself life was to set aside 30 minutes in the morning.  A quiet time.  I failed --  Miserably -- day after day.  It became impossible to rise at 5:30 when Samuel had just been awake at 4:30.  So I prayed.  And through those prayers, and words from others at opportune times, I began to realize that for this season, in my life, time with the Lord might not be that 30 minutes in the morning. And that was okay.

It might happen while I do laundry.  Yeah, laundry.  We've all got it, right?  Maybe I listen to my Bible instead of read it.  Maybe I pray while I fold.  Sure, there's not the serene atmosphere of an early morning study, but it is real.  

And sometimes in realness there becomes rawness and then authenticity.

So I leave verses scattered about my home to meditate on.  I study the Word with my children as we read our Bible in the morning.  And I pray throughout the day.  Not the long prayers that I could pray before I had children, but rather short prayers.  Of thanks.  Of need.  For encouragement.  And strength.

And life, real life, began to flow back into this tired momma's heart.

God met me through daily life.  

I still long and look for longer moments of quiet time.  Deep down, I know that time will return.  My kids will grow, my home will quiet down.  But, for now, the Lord has graciously shown me that He is there in all times throughout the day.  I just needed to align my heart with His.

Blessed is the man

who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked

or stand in the way of sinners

or sit in the seat of mockers.

But his delight is in the law of the LORD,

and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water,

which yields its fruit in season

and whose leaf does not wither.

Whatever he does prospers.

Psalm 1: 1-3

Be encouraged friends -- be encouraged today. Find joy, real joy, in Him.

to and fro, up and down, back and forth

You get the picture?  Think volley -- like in tennis.

That's my mind.  Right now.

I can't seem to come to a resting place for our upcoming year.  You know we homeschool, right?  Well, at heart, I'm this relaxed homeschooler.  Love the organic style of learning.  Love sitting on a couch reading.  Love that.  Then, on the very same breath, I love structure.  Having a plan, written out, with boxes to check and goals to complete.  I drool (not like Samuel) over these pre-planned curriculums -- where the day is scheduled out.

I think it comes down to more than curriculum.

It's more me.  It's the internal battle, the struggle to figure out who I'm supposed to be.  It's learning to be content in our day to day journey without all the bells and whistles.  You see, right now, I'm discovering that I am to be secure in not having the pre-planned curriculum (which, as a disclaimer, is not a bad thing).  And that even without it I am to be diligent.  Somehow I've given myself an excuse -- I don't have what I need or want or think I need -- and I can't do that.  I'm not being faithful and a steward of my time and using what I do have. I keep looking outside, thinking that's the answer, instead of looking in, praying and working hard.  It takes perseverance. 

So the catalogs that flood my mailbox now line my recycling bin (shhhhh...don't tell the publisher).  The emails are in the trash.  Now, I'm trying to be content in the direction the Lord desires for our family.   Not the direction that I think, or the publisher tells me I should have, or the standards list.  No.  I'm doing what God wants.

Maybe I don't have the list with pre-planned neat boxes to check that I thought I needed.

But, I do know that I'm following His path for our family.  And this path?  Involves me believing in myself, trusting in Him, and maybe, just maybe, making my own neat boxes to check.

is it just me?

I have these blogging struggles.  I really do.  Not about writing, as I could write, write, write.  But more about NOT allowing me to get caught up in the numbers aspect of blogging.  That's not me.

Yet, I found myself wondering "why" when I noticed I lost a follower.

You'd think I wouldn't care, right? Yet, I'll be wondering if it was something I wrote -- was I not serious enough? or funny? is my grammar bad?  my pictures not high quality? or what? Somehow I get as insecure as a lanky third grader wishing to be picked for a team for kickball.

So I started to ponder the reasons behind the insecurities.  Comes down to those old struggles about fitting in and being noticed. Those traps.  It's ironic that the outlet that I love so much has the very traps that I've struggled with since I was the lanky third grader mentioned above.

So instead -- I've decided to focus on what I do have, the truly important, and what I love about blogging. Those truths? 

Many of my followers have become my friends.
Truly friends.
Friends that I trust, that I love, that I am grateful for.
It's not about the numbers.
Really.
It's about the relationships.
And I'm grateful.
For you.

It's a strange thing, blogging.  Strange how it makes me look right at my heart.