Intensity = Results

Intense.

It’s the only word I can come up with to describe the last few weeks, months even.  And just when I think that I’m warming up to the intensity, life keeps happening.  It keeps getting more, well, intense.

With four mobile children ages 6 and under (one entering her tantrum time, and one hopefully exiting his), a newly potty-trained 2 (soon to be 3) year old little man, finishing up home schooling for the year, and the regular rig-a-ma-roll of cooking, cleaning, shopping, chauffeuring, and working, I’ve barely had time to breathe. 

Note:  I’m not complaining.  I function best under pressure.  In fact, I even added more to our plate:  getting the house ready to put on the market (we’ll see!), starting a new exercise and diet routine (2 weeks, 8 lbs. and 12 inches lost), and continuing to form a non-profit organization aimed at adoption education, support and reform.  To top it all off, my dear husband has been working out of town Monday through Friday, giving me some extra weekday duties and no evening relief!

No, I’m not complaining.  I’m celebrating.  Life is good.  We’re definitely not bored.  Our house is filled with laughter…or crying…or both.  My days are spent with my four favorite little people in the universe.  My evenings are spent catching up on the phone with my favorite guy in the world before I conquer the rest of my to-do list.  I remember days that used to seem super long.  These days go by too quickly.  No, I’m not complaining…this week.  But if you talked to me before my last heart check, I was oozing with discontent.  My apologies to all those friends who endured my grumbling.

Until recently, this intense season left me panicky, complaining, and dismal.  What’s a girl to do with all this responsibility, no help, and pure, utter exhaustion? Well, this girl tried to do it in her own strength…over and over and over and over again.  Day in and day out.  And what met me in the morning was a worse attitude than the day before.  I dreaded the day, and “suffered” through them as if my life was terrible.   Truth is, it isn’t.  Not one little bit.  But by breakfast, I probably visibly appeared burdened.  Yeah, I was a little, black rain cloud.

But intensity does that to you…it skews your perspective.  It makes you think that you absolutely cannot handle another responsibility, another moment, another activity.  In reality, and in ultimate truth, we can do all things through Christ who gives us strength…ay, there’s the rub.  In who?  Not in me…but in Christ. 

You’d think I would have this idea down.  You’d think I’d know to take life one day at a time, in His strength.  But that truth is still sinking from my head, to my heart, hopefully to become my habit.  It wasn’t until about 10 minutes into a grueling (for me!) exercise dvd last week that I realized how much we want to quit when things get hard.  Doing 3 minutes of intense strength training on the same muscle group not only affects my body, but it affects my mind.  You can’t do this.  You aren’t strong enough for this.  You’re gonna collapse.  Just give up.  But everything in me knows that if I stick with it, results happen…and it’s not that long of a time in the grand scheme of things. 

So it is the same with life.  When we’re faced with intense challenges, they are physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually draining.  Our mind plays some pretty powerful tricks on us, tricks that seemingly erase truth that we were convinced were rooted in our hearts.  You can’t do this.  Poor you.  Other moms at least get a break..  You’re never gonna make it.  Just give up.  Self-pity sets the stage for lies to creep in and transform our mind.  But there’s a huge problem with this…self-pity, lies, exhaustion, life circumstances, intensity in general are not the controlling factors in transforming us.  Rather, Romans 12: 2 says “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” 

I’ve been justifying my heart attitude saying that I still was making time for God. I was still in the Word.  I was still leaning on Him.  Therefore, this was what holiness and goodness and joy looked like in this season.  But I’m gonna be honest.  It was all in vain.  I was looking for Him to take away my burden rather than allowing him to transform me by renewing my mind.  I wasn’t giving him my mind.  I was holding on to it.  I was offering up my time, my attention, but not my agenda…not my complaining.  I couldn’t imagine succumbing to the thought that I could endure my to-do list with joy and strength.  No, that couldn’t be the answer.  The moment I let my agenda go, so went the grumbling, the self-defeating thoughts, and dreading waking up the next morning. 

The character trait we’ve been learning around the Stack house is patience.  The operational definition of patience is something that I should have picked up on much sooner than I did…it might have ended my mind grumbling a little earlier.  We’re learning that patience means “accepting a difficult decision without giving a deadline to remove it.” 

So while I thought I was being patient outwardly with my kids, my husband’s work schedule, my own work…really, inwardly I was loudly reminding God (o.k., screaming at Him!) that if He didn’t do something to my work load I was going to explode.

I am thankful for His mercy.  I am thankful that He takes us through some intense times so that He can drive home a truth that we think we have a handle on.  I am thankful that I can walk my kids through my weaknesses, and I am hopeful that they don’t struggle with fundamental truths to the extent I do at my age. 

I am thankful for intensity.  It’s exhausting, but it always produces results. 

 

Sayonara to Sippy Cups

Just when you least expect it, it hits you: that overwhelming wave of nostalgia.  Just today, as I was changing loads of laundry, I held my third son’s beloved blankie, and instantly remembered the day he was born.

Perhaps the nostalgia comes from the fact that today is my daughter’s first birthday.  One year ago right now, my husband and I were anxiously awaiting her arrival in a hospital room, full of joy.  It doesn’t seem right that it’s been a year already.  I remember holding her tiny little body for the first time, tears streaming down my cheeks as I exhaustedly muttered, “Well, I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, my little princess!”  I remember handing her to my husband, and watching his proud daddy look melt into a different kind of love.  I remember thinking that he looked different gazing at her than when he first beheld each of our boys.  I remember bringing her home to a house full of love, with little boys begging to hold their sister.  I remember changing her clothes way too often because I wanted to play dress up with a little girl.

And now, that little girl is walking, and talking, and drinking from a cup, and waving bye-bye…and I just am not ready for her to grow up.

Just this past weekend, my husband and I were able to get away for a night…the first time since we became parents!  It was wonderful!  But I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t a little bit of sad mixed in there.  Our two oldest boys, 6 and 4, have never slept away from home without us.  And there they were, with their two best friends, hugging our legs and waving us away.  We watched as they ran with their friends, farther and farther away, and I thought to myself, surely, they are still too little to have friends…to have a sleepover…to start making those amazing childhood memories that include others besides ourselves.  They had the time of their lives.  They played in mud, collected rocks, built a tent, and ran around playing soccer. 

But I wasn’t expecting them to grow up this fast.  They are reading, writing, understanding jokes, developing skills and confidently using their talents…and I just was not expecting this to happen so soon.

As I put my two-year-old son’s blankie into the dryer this morning, I got misty eyed.  I remember when he first decided, in his baby mind, that this was his blankie.  It was back in the day when I was still nursing him and rocking him to sleep.  It was when he was my baby, no younger sibling.  It was when he preferred playing with me than to his brothers.  It was before the days when he wrestled with the boys and daddy, before the days when he thought burping was funny, and before the days when he had a pajama preference.  And though I was tired, overwhelmed at times, and genuinely worn out as a mom of three young boys, I cherish those days of innocence. 

Last night, I kissed that little 2-year-old boy as I placed him in a big boy bed.  He has grown up faster than the rest.  He wants to be just like his brothers, and so he’s said goodbye to his crib, his sippy cups, and his baby toys.  I didn’t realize that seasons were changing until they changed.  My baby boy has turned into a walking, talking, cup drinking, big-boy-bed sleeping, soccer ball kicking kid.  And I just wasn’t ready for that.

These days of mothering get hard.  Wait.  That’s an understatement.  There are days when I literally say out loud “Help me Lord!  Or else I might explode!”  In fact, just this morning, I was doing the laundry because my kids are sick…again…and yes, they “sicked” all over their beds in the middle of the night.   Today was particularly challenging, but I realize that these moments are fleeting.  The busyness of young children carry us…no, push us into the very next moment before we are ready for it.  Even in the craziness, even in the busyness, even in the “sicked” laundry, there are beautiful moments that amount to nothing more than gifts.  I get the privilege of watching these little princes and this little princess grow and become who they were intended to be.  The tantrums, the laundry, the diapers, the sleepless nights are par for the course. 

I probably will want to cry again sometime soon…maybe even today!  I probably will get so overwhelmed that I have to stop and pray.  And that’s o.k.  Everything that is worth something requires those moments.  And there is nothing else worth more to me than my family. 

I am so thankful for that little Winnie the Pooh blankie, washed and dried and fresh again.  It is a reminder that though my little guy’s said sayonara to sippy cups, he still has many years to grow.  And though I am not ready, I do love watching the process unfold.  I do love watching my kids make friends and discover who they are.  There is no greater gift than watching God’s hand on your child’s life.  I just pray that I stop in the middle of all the busyness to keep watching.

“Teach me how to number my days that I might gain a heart of wisdom.”  Psalm 90:12

Candy Crush Saga: a Reminder That God is Fun!

So, I have a guilty pleasure…no, it’s not the Bachelor or American Idol.  It’s not cheese or chips, or gambling.  I don’t smoke, drink, or swear.  But I do like to play online games.  Pretty sad, huh?  Now, I have about a million things to cram in my day, and arguably these are an enormous waste of time.  They really are.  But some days, they are my reward…my way de-stressing after a busy day and calming my brain down (do you hear all that justification!?)

Today, just this afternoon, in the midst of my guilty pleasure, God spoke loud and clear…and made me and my kids laugh out loud.

Anyways, one of my new favorite games is called Candy Crush Saga on facebook, or as it is known in our house, “The Saga.”  Each board has a different task to complete either in a predetermined amount of moves or time.  You complete the tasks by swapping the colored candy-looking objects around making a row of three, four, or five alike.  It sounds so simplistic, and really it is, but the challenges get more and more difficult as you go, and well, it gets quite addicting.

Now, my hubby used to play video games a lot, and loves role playing games.  I grew up with the original Nintendo and fell in love with puzzle-type games, like Dr. Mario.  Our poor children were predisposed to video game fascination, so we have to be very careful about how much screen time we all have!  I generally only indulge in my guilty pleasure once the wee little ones are asleep at night and the two older ones are on their way to be tucked in.  Of course, the bright colored candy screen objects caught their attention one night, and my husband and two older boys were sucked in right along with me.

And so, the next few nights, sandwiched between teeth brushing and story time, my boys would cheer me on in the ever-so-important game of Candy Crush Saga.  It became a fun 10 minute little ritual…until I got stuck on board 65.  With only 5 lives allotted at a time, I stayed at board 65 for weeks.  Every night, we gathered to see mommy quickly lose all of her lives, time and time again.  It was impossible.  I didn’t even get close.  Still, faithfully, we log on to Candy Crush Saga thinking maybe, just maybe, I can beat the board.

This morning, we finished our chores and our school work early.  This could be due to the fact that a new early riser in the house who has enjoyed waking up her mama at 5:30 a.m. all week.  We had so much extra time that I even retold some extra Bible stories in my own words, which my kids love because I try to make them a little funny to keep their attention.  One of my 4-year-olds favorites is the parable of the persistent widow, or the sistent widder, as he calls it.  He told me this morning that the sistent widder was on his heart, so we talked through that one in addition to Joseph, Job, and Abraham.

Being a creature of schedule, I wasn’t sure what to do with the hour of extra time between school and lunch.  I started searching for craft material, seeing as Miss Rooster was snoozing, when my boys asked “Could you play the Saga?”  Even my two year old excitedly hopped in my lap, hoping to catch a glimpse of this fabled game he hears about.  I figured I would lose my 5 lives in 10 minutes or less and then we could move on to our craft. 

Faster than usual, I blew through 4 of my 5 lives. It was then that my 4 year old informed me that he started praying that I beat this board a few days ago.  My 6 year old excitedly said, “That’s a great idea!  Let’s pray!”  Me, being the wonderful, spiritual mother that I am, shamefully replied “Well, go ahead, but I’m thinking Jesus probably doesn’t care much if we ever beat this board on this silly game.”  This is one of those times when I am actually glad that they ignored me.  They said a quick prayer and I pressed start.  Wouldn’t you know it?  I beat the board…with 10 moves to spare.  They both got so excited, my oldest started to cry, and immediately they thanked God. 

I could so easily explain this away.  I had been playing this darn thing for weeks, I should have been able to beat it.  I could easily call this a coincidence.  But what I’m choosing to call it was a huge lesson for my kids…and me.  God does care about the little things.  We spend so much time in our family talking about children around the world who don’t have mommies or daddies, or clean water, or food.  We serve in places where people need compassion and care.  We are trying so hard to open our kids’ eyes to see the world around them through God’s eyes.  But what I have failed to do as a mom is tell my kids how limitless, awesome, caring, detail-oriented and fun God is.  I still look at life this way:  why would God answer a prayer about a dumb game while someone somewhere is dying from starvation?  My six year old said this, just as this thought was going through my brain:  we can pray as many prayers as we want.  There’s no limit.  And He can answer any ones He wants, because He’s God.

They immediately wanted to call daddy and tell them that we aren’t stuck on that board in the Saga…but they told him that I didn’t beat it, but God did.  It made me laugh.  God really gave me a good laugh.  He reminded me that He is much bigger than I daily think him to be, and He reminded me by playing a game with me.  He showed my kids and I that while we are sitting here wasting time, entertaining our brains for a few minutes, He is sitting here with us, enjoying watching us having fun.

The icing on the cake was hearing my boys tell my husband “God is so fun…and funny.”  You know what?  He is.  We are made in his image…and we are fun and funny sometimes.  The Bible refers to the fact that God laughs, dances, and sings over us.  I too often forget that! 

Who knew that a midday game of Candy Crush Saga could bring such breakthrough and renew a heart of joy?  I sure didn’t expect that one, but I’m glad He chose to speak to us in such a fun way today!

 

 

Lessons Learned On Our Crazy Monday

Things I learned today:

 

1. If you fail to turn on the dishwasher before bed with 4 little kids, there will be no clean plates or forks for breakfast.
2. When emptying the canister on the bagless vacuum, it would be wise to do so away from the crawling baby and curious toddler.
3. If wisdom eludes you regarding item #2, you can actually vacuum a crawling baby and curious toddler.
4. If you are able to teach kindergarten phonics and first grade math without an interruption from said baby and toddler, you are not enjoying peace, but rather something is wrong, and baby and toddler will have to be cleaned up….again.
5. Toddlers who have kidney issues still must give urine samples…they tape a bag to his “region” and tell him to pee.
6. A toddler with said bag does not like the way it feels and will refuse to pee.
7. While waiting for a bagged toddler to urinate in a small dr.’s office with 4 small children, it is wise to have plenty of diaper wipes handy for the baby, in case of explosion, books for older children, and candy to bribe the toddler with.
8. If wisdom has eluded you regarding item #7, a 4 year old is able-bodied to wet paper towels and hand them to you in a pinch for a diaper explosion, thereby also occupying him, and cough drops are good stand-ins for candy bribes.
9. McDonald’s Hi-C will not make a toddler pee any faster.
10. After 2 ½ hours of effort, ¼ tank of gas, and two crying children, a toddler will wait until you return home, take off your shoes and coats, and put the baby down for a nap to finally relieve himself.
11. If you, in the middle of all the morning’s chaos, failed to turn the dishwasher on in the morning, there will still be no clean plates or forks.

 

 

We have to laugh to get us through this Monday!!  Happy Monday-hope yours is less eventful!!

Celebrating Ten Years of Being Joined to My Best Friend

I haven’t had much time to write these days, much to my dismay.  I may get 5 minutes here or there, but no real down time when I can concentrate.  However, I had planned a post for today.  You see, today is my and my husband’s ten year wedding anniversary.  I had written how we met and how God worked in both of us at the same time and eventually brought us together…it actually was a pretty good post, if I do say so myself!  It was a little long, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.  However, no post of mine has ever taken that long and, honestly, has ever been proof read!  I scratched it, and well, here is what is on my heart today…right now…un-edited.

As my head hit the pillow last night, I started realizing the deeper work that God has done in my heart and in our little family over here in the last 10, well even 15 years!  This morning, I woke up to my boys’ smiling faces, just oozing with excitement to wish us a “Happy Versary,” as my 4-year-old would say it.  All day, they have been talking about how wonderful it is that we are married, and how one day they want to marry their best friend.  I even took them on an impromptu trip to the Children’s Museum this morning, where they proudly told all the new friends they had made, “My mommy and daddy love each other so much and today they’ve been married for 10 whole years!” 

Their excitement really has caught me off guard.  We are not the ooshy-gooshy, touchy-feely couple.  We haven’t even talked much about this day, other than to say that it is, in fact, our anniversary.  Heck, we don’t even have anything special planned tonight!  (Don’t worry…we have a date night scheduled next weekend!)

After lunch, I asked my boys why they were so excited.  My oldest said, “Well, you can tell that you really love each other.  No one makes daddy laugh like you and you smile all the time when he’s home. We’re just so happy for you!”  That made my heart melt…and remember.  Those things that are so evident to our kids are what made us realize we were made for each other.  My husband and I have known each other since we were teenagers, serving alongside each other at our youth group.  But, many years passed before God merged our paths into one.  Many things had to happen in each of our hearts, and both of us separately pursued God and His plans for us, not knowing what that would include.

When I was younger, I was hurt and broken.  Having lost his mother unexpectedly, my husband was sad, lonely, and a little lost.  We both told the Lord at a young age that if we were to marry, we had to be sure it was forever.  We both had so much fear, so much anger, so much to heal.  Admittedly, I never wanted to marry anyone.  I thought I’d graduate from law school, land a job in Manhattan, and live my life alone, in an overpriced apartment, with a closet full of suits, surrounded by quiet.  Sounds kinda stuffy, huh?  I left about an ounce of my heart open for the possibility that maybe God had something else up His sleeve.  But I told him that if He did, I needed to know this person inside and out.

Unbeknownst to me, my husband was saying the same thing.  He wanted to be joined with someone that had the same vision and values.  He wanted to also know his wife for a long time, and have her be his best friend.

We got everything we prayed for, and so much more.

Looking back, there were little hints.  When I was 15, I watched him get baptized.  I had maybe said two words to him before that day.  I was the farthest thing from boy crazy, and honestly had no feelings toward him or anyone else at the time.  But, boy oh boy, once that guy hit the water, my waterworks started.  I wept, and then was embarrassed and confused at my seemingly uncontrollable emotions.

We laugh at old pictures.  There are so many of us, way before we had even started becoming friends, when we are side by side.  We have so many pictures of us on mission trips together, playing with little kids.  There are a few of us serving at soup kitchens side by side.  But the funny thing was, we really didn’t speak to each other in those days…yet, we now have a pictorial history book of those days when God was healing our hearts and crossing our paths before we knew it.

 

The summer after my senior year of high school, we went on a mission trip to Guadalajara, Mexico.  We found ourselves walking side by side down a street one afternoon as men started to taunt me.  I could tell he didn’t know what to do.  Before long, our guide had run over to us and informed us that when one is trying to “sell” a woman, he walks her down the street with her on the outside.  Whoops!  We laughed so hard, and I wouldn’t let him forget it!  The rest of the trip we found ourselves cracking jokes, and making each other laugh.  Now, we had been around each other for years at this point.  I knew generally who this guy was, but all of the sudden, I saw so much more.

The next few months we talked more and more.  But my radar was up.  I had been hurt so much in the past and still was not ready for where I thought this was going.  I wrote him a long letter telling him that I really appreciated this new friendship, but I wanted to keep it just that:  a friendship. I was a “no physical contact” girl.  I still really am.  I don’t hug much, and I was uncomfortable being too close to someone…this little fact also made it’s way into the letter because I realized that Dan was a hugger.  If I were to maintain my emotions and trust my new friend, I really needed it to be on my terms.  I think this would officially have scared most people off, but his reply was patient and gentle:  of course we can remain friends, hands-off.  He said that this friendship was much too important to ruin by not being honest with each other.

The next year and a half (got that? Year and a half of no contact) was spent hanging out at young adult events, sometimes with a group of our friends, but mostly letter writing.  At first, we wrote about silly things.  After some time, we shared about what God was doing in our hearts.  Eventually, we opened up and talked about our past, about our hurt, and about how much we had overcome.  One day I woke up and realized that all those feelings that I swore I would never feel were already there.  I had taken all of the precautions, I had people who kept me accountable, I had distanced myself, but still…I was head over heels in love with this man.  

On January 1^st, 2001, he wrote me another letter.  This one asked me whether I would consider letting him pursue me for marriage.  We had never once been on a date.  We had never once held hands.  We had never once even confessed to one another that there were feelings between us.  We didn’t have to.

The next 10 months were even more wonderful than before.  Friends were commenting on how happy I looked and how much Dan laughed.  He continued to write to me almost every day, and I wrote him back.  A little over two years after he tried selling me on the streets of Mexico, Dan asked me to marry him.  The rest is history. 

Here’s what I realized, though, when writing down a much longer version of our story.  Dan’s love language is touch.  He wrestles with our kids, always hugs his family, and loves to sit next to me on the couch and hold my hand.  The two years that I had fallen in love with him was such a sacrifice to him.  Looking back, I realize that he had loved me so much, he didn’t need my love in return.  He was patient, gentle, and selfless.  The other thing that I learned, very soon after we were married, was that Dan considers writing an actual form of torture.  Even making a grocery list can bring tears to his eyes.  Yet, I have probably a thousand letters, emails, and cards that he wrote me.  He pursued me on my own terms, despite his feelings.  What else says love like that? 

Even on our worst day, I have never questioned that we were made for each other.  We truly fell in love, side by side, while looking forward.  My absolute favorite thing to do is make him laugh, and I consider it a challenge to do so before he takes his shoes off every day when he gets home from work.  And yes, from about 5 p.m. until I lay my head on the pillow, I am normally smiling.  If I’m not, he is sure to remedy the situation.  I’m so glad that my kids see the years and years of our friendship still showing through us.  I’m so glad that they want what we have.

 

So today, instead of celebrating love or commitment, faithfulness or romance, we are celebrating friendship.  Our feelings have come and gone.  There have been good days, bad days, great days, and horrible days.  But each and every day, I look into those clear, blue eyes and remember that he is the same friend that waited for me, pursued me, waited some more, and then took me in his arms. 

 

Ten years is a long time.  But if we look back even further from when we first met, we are two completely different people.  What was once broken and full of pain is now, by God’s grace, whole and full of joy.  Marriage is a mystery.  It is hard.  It is work.  But, like they say, it truly is the best kind of work when you’re doing it with a friend.   

 

Ode to Men

It’s so easy to man-bash, isn’t it?  He doesn’t communicate enough, he isn’t thoughtful, he doesn’t help out as much as I need him to, etc. Really this can all be summed up by this phrase:  he’s human.  Guess what?  So are we!  And I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure my hubby could rack up quite the list if he wanted to and woman bash!

To tell you the truth, I’m not a big fan of Valentine’s Day.  I never was.  My husband and I don’t really even celebrate it because, a. our anniversary is in 2 weeks, and b. it was never important to either of us. But as my boys grow, I realize how wonderful it is that there’s a day set aside to remind us to extravagantly love, whether that means our spouse, our kids, our friends, our parents, or a stranger who is all alone.   This morning, I woke up with immeasurable joy knowing that I am blessed woman, surrounded by amazing men who need no reminder to love me extravagantly every day.

So, in light of Cupid’s big day, I thought I’d take a moment to thank my men, both big and small.  As I reflect on who I am and how I’ve got here, I realize that God has used all these guys in some major ways.

Happy Valentine’s Day to my dad.  He is the first man I ever loved.  There was a time that we were not close, but not by his choosing.  There were times I pulled away, but he has always faithfully waited for me.  To this day, he remains the most gentle man I know.  Our visits always seem to short and the years go by so fast.  He taught me what love looks like during a time when I could not see it. He made it a point to live life with me, always taking me on new adventures, whether it was ice skating, hiking through the woods, or teaching me all the swimming strokes.  He imparted in me a hunger for knowledge, and fed it with frequent trips to the bookstore.  He is a servant, and to this day shows me what it means to be a parent and lay your life down, even when it’s not convenient.  Just last week, on one of his only days off, he drove 30 minutes to pick me up and take me to the dr., then to the pharmacy, just to drop me back off and drive 30 minutes back home.  I hope that I can show my kids the love, leadership, and servant-hood the way my dad has shown me.  I’m glad I take after him in so many ways, and am honored to be his daughter. 

Happy Valentine’s Day to my brother-in-law.  There was a time during my adolescence when he was the only man I was allowed to see.  He was the cool guy with the red sports car, playing M.C. Hammer while he took me to Chuck E. Cheese.  He showed me that life could be fun.  He played air drums while I danced around the living room on a Saturday morning.  He made me forget a lot of life’s pain during that time.  He taught me that it’s important to work hard, but not to take all of life’s woes too seriously.  He still is one of the first to tell me how proud he is of me, to cry when I’m crying, and to poke fun at me when I need to lighten up.  Thank you for loving my sister the way you do, and showing your four girls what a great husband and father looks like.

Happy Valentine’s Day to my sons.  All three of them are so different, but so perfect!  Micah, with his compassionate heart, is an absolute thrill to have in my life.  Daily, we talk about God and His word.  We pray together, encourage one another, and enjoy each other’s company.  His heart provokes me.  He is also a constant reminder of God’s faithfulness.  For years we wondered if we’d ever have a child, and he’s the tangible evidence that God does what He said He will do.  Noah, with his exuberant joy lightens the mood of our entire house.  He smiles almost constantly (even when getting disciplined) and he genuinely loves each member of our family in such a divine way.  He always thinks of others before himself, and he teaches me every day that we should enjoy this life that we are blessed with.  Sam, with his fearless, adventurous spirit has molded me into a woman who cannot lack spontaneity and who must let go of expectations.  This is a good thing!  I was rigid and scheduled, but I have learned to slow down and enjoy more…and to always be prepared with gauze and bandages!  All three have servants’ hearts, going above and beyond what I ask them to do.  All three are eager to help around the house, with their siblings, and let us know how much they love us.  You will all be amazing husbands one day, because you are amazing men!

Lastly, Happy Valentine’s Day to the man I was created for.  No one else in the world gets me like he does.  He is the one my soul loves, and if I reminisce about our beginnings, I see how God worked even before we knew much of each other.  From the very first conversation that we had, we started becoming each other’s best friends.  He has taught me how to selflessly love, how to be patient, how to be kind, how to be a servant, and how to serve without grumbling or complaining.  He works so hard for our family, and comes home to wrestle with the boys, help out with the dishes, and run an errand if I need him to.  We’ve watched each other struggle through difficult life issues, but he’s remained faithfully at my side through mine, and I have remained faithfully at his side through his.  I have learned more about I Corinthians 13 love by loving this man, which means he has been doing his job at helping me become more Christ-like.  I am honored and blessed to be his wife, and forever and always consider it my life’s biggest blessing and joy to be forever joined to him. 

I am thankful for the men in my life, and I pray that you find the time to reflect and thank all the men in yours!  Happy Valentine’s Day!

 

 

Sick...Again!

Well, I just can't seem to catch a break this winter season!

After 5 of us battling the flu over Christmas/New Years, we had about 2 weeks of health before I caught another bug that developed into a lengthy case of bronchitis.  Slowly, each of my little ones are coughing and sneezing their way out of the healthy zone. 

I will admit:  I am exhausted and annoyed that despite all the hand washing, sanitizing, and bundling, I have had more sick days in 2013 than healthy by far!  All I want is a few hours of sleep, uninterrupted by my cough, my teething baby, my fevering 6 year old, or my other two little dreamers.  All I want is the energy to be able to do the "basics" around our home, instead of just falling back to survival mode, which is a setting we know all too well around here.

Confessions aside, I have a choice to make.  I can choose to act how I feel, or I can choose to actively love and find the good in this season of life. 

I have been chatting with a good friend about finding the little moments in each day when God is giving us a gift, big or small, instead of being so distracted by our circumstances to stop and breathe.  I remember once when I left a few little encouragement notes for my husband to read when he got up one morning.  I stayed up late, wrote some thoughtful messages that I knew would encourage him during a discouraging season, and tucked them in places where he would normally look during his morning routine.  I woke up to find all of my notes still tucked away, unopened.  Later, I learned that he had woken up late for work and rushed around to get ready, completely missing the encouragments and love notes waiting for him.

I am like that a lot.  I rush around, checking things off my list, feeling overwhelmed with my responsibilities and my energy levels.  However, when I rush around, I miss the little mercies that I get from my Creator each and every day.  I am thankful for my friend who I can text and say "I'm wanting to have a bad attitude," who texts back, "Let's pray that you see His mercies, big or small, today."   I'm thankful for a God who doesn't let our circumstances stand in the way of His neverchanging goodness and faithfulness. 

So, instead of complaining, I want to celebrate my little gifts that I received during my break from health! 

Today's mercies...

1.  No one cried during breakfast, which is EXTREMELY rare, and much appreciated due to a headache!
2.  My boys actually cleaned their room when they were asked, without getting side tracked.
3.  I called the dr. about my oldest, who is fevering and coughing, and they were able to get us right in!
4.  We had the very first parking space at the dr.'s office.
5.  My kids have been napping all at the same time for an hour and a half so far!
6.  I grabbed a box of pasta and a jar of sauce while grocery shopping last week, which I NEVER do...but that's what's for dinner tonight!
7.  I'm able to teach my oldest son, who is miserable with his cold, to look for the little mercies in his day, and he happily found 3!

In every season, I will praise Him and in every season I will tell of His good works.  Look for His little mercies and I think it will put a smile on your face!  (I wish it also acted as concealer under my eyes...but I digress!)