When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, “I used everything you gave me.” ~Erma Bombeck

The beginning of a new school-year is basically the beginning of new routine, new goals, new hopes for the coming 10 months.  It is more motivating to me than the New Year.  And also more overwhelming.

This year my older ones are crossing over from little kid-ness into big kid-ness.  I would like each of the older 2 kids to have one athletic and one creative outlet.  Josh has settled on karate, and we hope to begin guitar lessons next Fall.  Anna is studying piano and hopefully working on vocals down the road.  But is a little reluctant to sport: she is simply not interested in group-athletics.  Hates them, actually.

I shared her sentiments on group -sports growing up, and avoided them in any way that I could.  Running eventually became my sport- although even there I ran with myself, by myself and for myself.  Team-running was never appealing.  And to this day, running or exercising in a group is something I avoid.

So, I have decided that instead of pushing Anna into a sport-situation she does not enjoy, we will run together.  And that will be her sport.  She asks me many Saturdays if she can accompany me while jogging, and even though her pace slows me considerably, her endurance has increased the past year.  So jogging it will be- at her pace, at her discretion.

I feel like an octopus this year- with tentacles reaching into any and every direction.  Focused on 1st grade.  Focused on 3rd grade.  Focused on pre-school.  Focused on baby-hood.  Wanting to be a supportive wife.  Wanting to continue to allow our home to be open and used well.  In other words, desiring a lived-in home, and not just a house: there is a difference.  Wanting to give to my friends.  Wanting to sleep:).

And pushing, pushing the kids to work hard.  Praying, praying for God to teach them diligence and perseverance.  And then being willing to make that happen.  My Mom reminds me that children need to be pushed into success.  Encouraged, prodded into doing things well.  Talents are natural, but they develop through parental perseverance.  For now, I find the spoon to be a good solution to attitude-issues. 

 ”I cannot do it”, she will say.  “You can and you will”, I say.  “Mom, I can’t!”  I play the song once, twice, three times and that is all.  “You have heard it, now you are on your own”.  Set jaw and firm lips.  But, lo and behold moments later the song plays back to me perfectly.  She is doing well with it, but it requires a push and firm expectations.

I know that music is not the be-all-and-end-all.  But I have YET to meet a human-being who says: “Man, I wish I DIDN’T know how to play an instrument.  It is so awful that I know how to play guitar”.  But I have met MANY people who wish they had instrumental talent into adult-hood.  I am thankful I have a musical background and desire that for my children.  I desire that they can sing, play, jam and make music together down the road.  What a gift for them!

My prayer many mornings has been this: God, help me to enjoy exhausting myself for you.  A simple prayer.  Help me to really find the joy in service, the wealth in being poured out, the beauty in giving.  Help me if I burn out at times, to feel like I have burned out for a good cause.   And to be happy about it.   After all, I could run dry for a lot of trivial causes, serving myself incessantly, but what would be the fulfillment in that?

Serving is not just, and I realize that I do not want to live a life of justice.  Justice means you only do what is fair.  And who knows what the measuring-stick on that is.  Most people use their own measurements to determine fair: scary.  Grace is giving what is beyond fair, and enters the realm of service when there may be no reward and no appreciation.  Grace is measuring self against the riches of Christ and realizing that God’s Son trumps any of our efforts, so Who am I to complain?  Who am I to stomp my foot about this life I have been given, full of the people God has placed in it?  Grace gives and does so with the goal of not complaining (what a challenge!).  Grace pours out and does not need to report the good deed.  It does not criticize the response we receive and how much better I would have done it.   Grace is peaceful.  It is living with so much that is unseen, that clinging to the visible is simply less important.

Living busy life takes a heaping portion of grace, not justice.  Justice rants and raves.  Grace quietly perseveres.  And it is actually quite difficult to live graciously when we feel too tired or too busy.  But God does not give us clauses for behavior.  His standards are for all time and in all circumstances.

Which brings me back to my prayer of this year: to exhaust myself in joy.  Knowing with head and heart that God’s grace is sufficient.  ‘Cause when I think ahead to all that needs to happen this school-year, I’m going to need it!

A new year presents new opportunity for choice.  Last school-year started on August 3rd.  And on August 6th, Baby Will entered our world.  That kind of gives a summary of how ahead I was in life.  I came home from the protected walls of the hospital- where there is a sense of suspension: I don’t quite have to do life alone yet.  I can press a button and a cup of water, with ice chips- arrives at my door.

And then, home again to take on the reality that is infancy in all its difficult, complex…beauty.  Combined with a toddler and two school-aged kids, my year was exhausting to a degree I am only now realizing. 

Pre-Church Photo

Will is turning 1 in just 2 short days.  And my body and mind testify to the fact that the fog is just now lifting.  I don’t identify post-partum depression in my life last year.  But I can easily identify post-partum discouragement, fueled by long and physically relentless days. I didn’t feel black this Baby, but I felt crazy.  At times, certifiably nuts.  Due to pressures and stresses and busy, busy days and interrupted nights.

  I will never look down on a woman who talks about post-partum issues.  It is a real and eager Monster. 

Yet I wouldn’t trade our topsy-turvy year for anything.  God has a way of never giving us more than we can handle, but simultaneously giving us almost more: so that we are face-first in need.  And so that we are humble enough to find Him a priority, and not an after-thought. 

Brothers

My goals have come alive this year.  In marriage and mothering.  My goals have headed homeward primarily, with careful attention to not over-doing it outside my walls.  I want to invite many people in (I increasingly love hospitality), but to be more calculated in not being everywhere, all the time, spread thin and anxious.  The kids-while young- ARE still getting older.  They are not ALL babies anymore.  And the ones in school, absorbing “real life” in a “real world” every moment, needs tons of coaching.  I am an unpaid life-coach.  And since coaching always requires knowing your players, my job is to know them well and consistently. And to cheer, cheer, cheer them on.

I was asked the other day about the Hippie Movement.  Which led to questions about “free love” and the “peace movement”.  Basically, I told Anna (the asker) that as long as you cannot get along with your brother, global peace is a pipe-dream:).  That gave her food-for-thought.

Sisters

I am wanting to sit down at lunch and systematically work through a toddler-Bible with Emma at lunch-time.  Today was fun- as conversations generally are with Emma.  Of all our kids, she is the one who makes us laugh most.  She is irreverent and un-PC, and her thoughts just so …raw.  We started with Genesis and God’s creation.  I asked her what God made.  She said: “The fish and the birds and the kids”.  She wanted to know if God created food as well – her One True Love.  We talked about 6 days of creation.  And she asked me “Did God dance when He was finished?”  Who knows, my Love.  Maybe.  She then got totally fixated on the picture of Cain and Abel.  The photo shows Cain with his fist up-raised, striking his brother.  The seriousness of this was lost on her.  I’ll be honest: Cain has a bad mullet.  And so Emma repeated over and over: “He has such ugly hair.  It’s so ugly.  Why does it look like that?”  I curtailed her remarks with prayer.  She said: “I don’t want to pray”.  I said: We ARE going to pray now, with hands folded and eyes closed.  She wanted none of it.  Squinting, peeking eyes.  I said: “Emma, do you know why we close our eyes?”  She said: “NOPE!”   I explained that our eyes see things our hands want to play with, and it’s important to focus on God while we pray.  She listened and then showed me how she prayed: “Like this”.  Her eyes were half-open and buggy and looking everywhere.

Siblings

Pray for us:).  This little one is so Fun, and so prone to deceit and manipulation all at once.  I pray she will be a Godly woman, who develops a sincere and truthful conscience….but so far, I am not sure it’s there:).

I have not written or posted in almost one month.  Hard to believe, but it has not felt a month.

It has just felt The Summer.

Summer has its own rules of time…and somehow,  I have wanted to disconnect from lots of places and re-connect in my home.

Funny how you can spend most minutes with your family, but still need to stare in eye-balls and bend knees to gaze into faces, and open ears to hear the true needs of hearts: ones that come through questions and observations, that begin like: “Mom, why did?  Mom, what do you think about?”

There have been plenty of car-rides with no music this summer.  Plenty with loud music, but many intentionally unplugged rides- because when there is no background noise to distract, I see the behavior and I hear the questions.  Pat is amused, because when the kids ride anywhere with him, there is general quiet and still.

But, when Mother-Dearest is at the steering-wheel, there are inquisitions about most anything.  History.  Politics.  Social net-working.  In all seriousness, these leaden-weighted heart inquiries comes pouring out.  Anna and Josh in particular- due to age- need answers to most everything right now.  This is a “Why” season.  And for anyone who has been immersed in the “Why’s”, it requires great patience and skill.  Time.  And less noise to distract.  When my noise is less, my availability heightens.

I have answered hundreds of questions this summer.  I have been asked to research and Google black widow spiders.  I have been asked about Obama’s policies on taxation (not a joke).  I have been asked about two-piece vs. one-piece swim-wear.  I have been asked whether I will have another baby.  I have been asked whether I can teach one to cook, another to ride a bike with no trainers.  I have been asked to teach swimming lessons to the toddler, by the toddler.  I have been asked to call and locate a bunny to adopt.  I have been asked about illegal immigrants and Medic-aid.   I have been asked in’s and out’s of why Jesus needed to die.

And this is a question I will NEVER not answer.  I will NEVER put on the back-burner.  Music is always turned off when minds are processing Big Truths.

I have been asked to rub backs.  To kiss and hug and tuck in.  I have been asked: “Come sit with me Mama”.

I have done all of these things, dozens of times over, and it has left little or no time left for much else.

It’s a good thing for the lesser things to be greater for a time.  Often the greatest good is learned through the most menial service, and seemingly insignificant acts of love.  I have been reminded through God’s Word that “Whatever you do for the very least of these, you have done for Me”.

Kids are the “least of these”. They are small, needy and in many ways still, helpless.  They are not handing out medals or crowns to mothers who sweat and labor over meals and books and homework.  They are not rewarding with bonuses or any sort of worldly affirmation.  And they do require constant giving in small and invisible ways.  A lot.  Every day.

They are the least of these.  And so they are served.  Not by a perfect Mom.  Not even close.  But by a Mom who loves God as much as she knows how.  And who is aware that as she does it all and more for them…

….ultimately I am doing it for Him.  And that is my reward.

When you lead me through the valley of vision,

I can see you in the heights.

And though my humbling wouldn’t be my decision

It’s here your glory shines so bright.

Let me learn that the cross precedes the crown.

To be low is to be high.

That the valley’s where you make me more like Christ.

-The Valley of Vision-

I would like to say that I am in a valley right now, but that would be unfair.  Will is teething one painful tooth at a time and it is hurting me in a different way than it is hurting him.

His is physical pain.  Mine is mental.

Combine baby discomforts with the frustration of a small-ish person who is desperate to move: crawl, walk, any or all of the above….and patience is an attribute I find myself praying for.  Begging for.  Not even daily, but hourly.   This is the life I chose, and I embrace it. 

Children are a rich blessing, but they are tiring little blessings!

My worst enemy is my impatience; however I have learned over the course of a walk with God that He gives grace to the humble and strength to the weak.  And I love Him for these small glimpses of grace.

My friend is currently wishing life’s difficulties were as simple as a tooth pushing through gum-tissue.  What a light and momentary trouble that would be for her.  But her world is weighing several tons right now.  She is seeing valley.  Not one, but many.  Difficult, painful, confusing valleys.

Riverbed in Roswell

God’s valleys are never pointless, but they do hurt.  Right now I am hoping that I can walk through the darkness with my friend, and I am hoping that grace upon grace will be hers and mine. 

 The hopeful thing about valleys is that the air is darker and cooler there.  The vegetation is lush, because there is more shade and more water.  There are plants that ONLY grow below the hills.  Flowers that ONLY blossom with less sun.

But when we are used to the sun and it goes out, the lesser-light and the damp is frightening.  It feels unfamiliar and we always see how much security there is in the normal once it is gone. 

Roswell Covered Bridge

Thankfully, God came as much to illuminate the the darkness as He did to shine in the light.  In fact, His strength imparted does not show until it’s needed.  The grace of theory is never understood as well until it is grasped for, and found to be within grasp.  God never disappears when the need is great, and that’s the great thing about Him.  He is sufficient.

Down-River

What is sufficient?  We only know when we run out of options.

“Let me find your grace in the valley.  Let me find your life in my death.  Let me find your joy in my sorrow, my wealth in your need.  That you’re near with every breath….in the valley.”

I love you, friend.  And I hope you know that.

The past few weeks at church, our pastor has been reviewing what relationship to one another should look like.  I was telling Pat as we drove home yesterday, that these sermons are literally life-changing.  Life-altering to the best extent.

I rejoice because our church home is becoming that little by little.  By tiny steps and bigger steps HOME to us.  It has become a family.  And we have crossed the threshold from reserved hesitancy and some insecurity, to acceptance and love.  It has not always been the easiest road.  It never is to love truly.  Our church-walk has been a marriage.   We were newlyweds for a time, and newlyweds are hurdling many issues.  We are now more or less adjusted to one another the way marriage requires… and becoming comfortable as not-so-newlyweds.  The fit is right, and I personally advocate that age and progress is better as it applies to most things in life. 

Now there is a comforting sameness to our church-life and I appreciate that.  Josh Harris wrote a book a time ago called Stop Dating the Church.  Everyone dates the church for a while.  Does the shoe fit?  Does it tread well?  Wear well?  Match the outfits of my life?  There is a normal experimentation to get the The One.   But in a healthy context, dating will give way to marriage.  Pat and I are married now.  To one another and to Grace.  Marriage is both a sign of and a deep commitment to maturity, and I believe our crossing-the-threshold to be symbolic of our willingness to “take the next step”.  We are content to pursue commitment and to live contentedly in its light. 

Being a church-member means putting up with someone like yourself: an imperfect replica of who God asks us to be.  But vowing into membership assumes the union will not be perfect.  And so quietly accepts reality and works, works, works some more.   Work is fulfilling, but we’d never know it unless we plugged away at a task that was difficult.  The beauty is in the sweat and the character, not in the ease.

Church as home results in deeper communion with God.  Deeper understanding of Him, assuming the leadership is grounded in Truth.  And that rooting gives way to depth and beauty in marriage and family too.  There is a security in a church-home.  There is a support-system for child-rearing, financial matters, emotional matters, marital troubles.  There is a buffer between person and world, and God’s comfort is wrapped up so completely in this equation.

We are thankful for our similarities with our family at Grace.  A similarity grounded in the God we serve.  We are also increasingly thankful for our differences.  Love would not be learned and true community experienced were we cookie-cutter.  It is easy for churches to want all oatmeal or only chocolate-chip.  But variety provides something for everyone and with intentionality, the cookie-tray can meet everyone’s preferences.  There might be allergic reactions now and then.  That is just a necessary part of ingesting relationships.  But the risk is worth taking, and the love worth exploring.

We worship here: www.enjoygrace.com

It’s a good fit.  You are welcome to visit any time.

Toddlers who tell lies early on are more likely to do well later, researchers claim.

This the headline of a BBC article Pat forwarded me this morning.  Pat often forwards me interesting news articles.  Some I read to completion, some are sent to delete box- because they make me feel stressed – like I HAVE to read.  And it’s one more thing to do.  This particular article grabbed my attention immediately and I perused quickly, all the while Emma pounding a Barbie doll’s legs across my lower arm.  “Barbie’s jumping.  Barbie’s touching her toes”.  I have learned to concentrate, despite my surroundings.

Able to lie: and not a good thing!

The complex brain processes involved in formulating a lie are an indicator of a child’s early intelligence, they add.  A Canadian study of 1,200 children aged two to 17 suggests those who are able to lie have reached an important developmental stage.

Only a fifth of two-year-olds tested in the study were able to lie.  But at age four, 90% were capable of lying, the study found.

Sometimes I read statistics about issues like abortion, and I am convinced that a just and kind God could not possibly stand watch over a world that is so evil.  So God-less.  How can He allow cruelty for so long, when He is perfectly able to cease all injustice with one word, one command? 

 Were it to me, the end would have come long ago.  God is patient is all I can say.

When I I immerse myself in “wisdom” of the age, proclaimed through psychologists- child and otherwise- and I am sure.  No, completely convinced that 21st -century North American culture is almost…unsalvageable.

Emma and her best little friend

I have a child who is naturally prone to speak untruth.  I have 1 kid with no ability to lie, 1 kid with partial ability to lie, who always gets caught.  And I have 1 kid with total ability in the area of lying.  Though she too is always found out, it does not stop her desire to try and try again.

This character trait is no virtue.  It is a flaw.  Puritan Christianity referred to outstanding character black-spots as “besetting sins”- the sins that slow us down.  That trip us up.  The sins that define our personalities as much as our virtues define us.  We all have them.  Mine is temper: there I said it.  It makes me sad that Emma easily veers from the truth.  I desire truth in my children.  God places a high premium on honesty, as Proverbs shows repeatedly.  The Bible speaks much of truthfulness as a hallmark of a Christian.  It is wisdom.  It is genuineness. 

 To speak the truth is to reveal a truthful heart.  To speak lies with ease, is to reveal something much blacker about the heart.  What is in our hearts comes out of our mouths: and whether we admit it or not, we are shown out by our words.

There is no such thing as a white lie.  A partial truth.  There is no grey in speaking what is untrue.  There is either truth or error.  True or false.  Bending the truth to cover tracks, bold-faced abuse of truth.  This is a complete breaking of God’s commands. 

Pat and I spend a good bit of time sniffing out the areas of weakness in our children.  Not physical weakness.  Not even mental weakness as much as character weakness. 

I was told not too long ago by an older, wise father: Pray that your kids always get caught. 

The profundity of BBC’s article culminates with this paragraph:

Those who have better cognitive development lie because they can cover up their tracks.  This was because they had developed the ability to carry out a complex juggling act which involves keeping the truth at the back of their brains.

He added: “They even make bankers in later life.”

The irony of the fact that our country’s deep and miry recession is due to a handful of blood-thirsty, greed-driven, private bankers holed up in Goldman-Sachs…is not lost on me.

These great untruths start somewhere.  And the culmination of many untruths can be very serious.

Here is God’s take on dishonesty-Proverbs 8:7-

 My mouth speaks what is true, for my lips detest wickedness.

Rather than dwelling on and stewing in the busyness of the end-of-year- and it does threaten to overwhelm me right this moment – I have been praying for PERSEVERANCE.

I want these last few days of the kids’ year to be pleasant.  I want them to be fun.  I want all 3 schoolers to feel as though they are loved and significant.  Unfortunately, I am numb at this moment.  I only get numb when either a) my feelings are hurt or b) fatigue sets in.

Presently, b is my case.  Bla bla.  All parents could sing this anthem, so I will not go down the road of speaking of exhaustion.  It’s a familiar journey to all of us, right?

Josh: Kindergarten music concert

This morning I was wrestling with my day, and it was only 6:30.  Pat kindly asked “What can I do to help you today?”  Bless him.  I asked for a run.  (Made him late for work on a meetings-days, but he meant it.   My husband teaches me grace on a daily basis).  Running is where my thoughts become prayers.  Where my frustrations are pounded out and my mind unwinds and gains focus.  It’s medicinal for me.   I feel my thoughts unleash and my perspective sharpen.  And what bothered me inside the house, suddenly loses its power and hold.  Rather than dwell in defeat, I find myself praying.  Specifically, for:

God to turn these next few weeks into ones of perseverance for me.  Ones where I learn diligence.  Ones where I am kind and intentional.    Pro-active, not reactive.  I have been encouraging my children to finish the school-year well: with academics and friendships.  And the apple does not fall far from the tree with us, it seems.  Their school for character is mine, too.  We are members of the same team.

Wiggly, squiggly 5 year-olds.

The Bible speaks well and continually of hard work and perseverance.  Commitment and sweat-equity.  These are important attributes to God.  He is pleased by and honored in the pouring out of our lives.

No discipline at the time is pleasant.  Later on however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained in it.

The discipline of perseverance:  Running here. Running there.  Meeting needs.  Catering to preferences.  Not always easy. But it will and it DOES produce a harvest.  And attitude as I am finding, determines much about whether the harvest is good, or whether it is spoiled.

Sometimes conviction is a quiet voice, whispering inside.

Sometimes conviction is a trumpet-blast that cannot be ignored, because it is loud and strong and pronounced.

I have adopted a word for the rest of the year.  I have made this word my own.  And I am currently turning the Bible inside-out, studying my word and desiring to learn all that I can.  That I would grow in the truths of God.  My word is a fruit of the Spirit, and a fruit that needs to grow bigger in my heart.

I have seen a deep void in my heart and it has saddened me so much.  I have been saddened because several voices have all combined to give me awareness.  Voices I respect, from people I love and admire.  A theme has arisen.  A strand that is united.  I have hurt and I have wounded.  And frankly, I cannot ignore the truth.

Emma's Bible. We are enjoying morning reading together.

Truth comes through voices, you know.  And the truth hurts.  I have seen this.  But I have also seen that God Is Truth and all that I am not.  And so thankfully, He knows what He is dealing with in me.  No task is too great for Him.  No unrighteousness beyond His grasp.

That is why he came.  There is no other reason.  He came because we are not and cannot.  He came because He is.  And because He can restore the broken.  The cross is the bridging between holiness and unholiness.  But it IS a bridge.  And I am honored to be able to cross that bridge, even though my hands are out-stretched.  And I don’t really feel worthy.

I was furiously jotting notes during Anna’s piano lesson last week.  Bible in hand, I was jotting notes and cross-referencing verses.  She asked me what I was doodling:

Here is my art. 

My stop-light notes

I consider myself a very accomplished artist.  Have you ever seen the likes of this doodle?  My stop-light.  I said “Anna, I am writing about conscience.  And how conscience is given us by God to protect us.  And to protect others.”. 

My stop-light.  Orange is the warning-sign.  SLOW-DOWN.  You are about to hurt and damage.  WARNING.  THERE IS DANGER AHEAD.  I can plow through this intersection right now and ruin another person’s day.  Or I can slow down at the intersection of my thoughts: where two roads lie ahead.  I can choose discerningly.  Or I can choose unwisely.

God's truth in my notes

In other words, I can bless or I can curse.  I tell my kids before a play-date “Be a blessing to the people around you, alright?”

Mom needs to learn this too.  Be a blessing, Maryanne.  In your speech.  In your actions.  In your every-day offering to God: which is living faithfully and kindly every day.

Do you want to know what my word is for the rest of the year?

SELF-CONTROL.

Fruit. Vibrant and colorful.

God’s Word says that “Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks”.

In other words: what is in our hearts WILL bubble to the surface.  It has to.  A pot of water turned to highest heat WILL boil over.  A heart turned to highest heat-level in irritation and arrogance and intolerance WILL boil over.

I share this only to be real.  We all struggle.  We all have sins that plague us.  We all have sin that we liberally share with others. And that is the sad part.

My heart’s desire is to be a breath of fresh air to the people in my life.  Not stale, smelly air that taints the room.  Not dark air that pervades the souls and minds of others.

I am praying myself onward.  And I am thankful for a God who came to chase away the darkness. 

What would your word be, if you could choose?

I have found the best time for my devotions is first-thing in the morning.  I am naturally an easy-riser, preferring to go to bed by 10 and waking by 5:30 or 6am.  Pat does not understand my morning pattern, as he cannot think clearly until at least nine o-clock.  This is a mild concern as his clear-thinking does not merge well with dropping the kids off at school, nor driving himself to work.

I pray for the safety of our family near-daily.

One of my greatest challenges with being an adult and having a busy pace, is finding time to know God still.  I reference this fact often because it’s an on-going challenge for me.  I don’t mean thinking spiritual thoughts.  But knowing God as He presents Himself through His Word to us.  Praying according to what and who He is.  This takes time.  And time is something there is never enough of.

My ideas of God are great.  And even theologically good.  But, simply thinking as a human, as Maryanne- cannot replace meaningful study of the Bible.  Which is where wisdom lives.  Wisdom does not live inside of me.  Neither does grace, or mercy.  Actually, patience moved out a while ago too.  And so on it goes.

And love: Well, love basically does not exist when all the other fruits of the spirit are absent- fruits of the Spirit being the Bible’s way of listing discernible features of a Christian.  Love is the umbrella under which all the other fruit must exist.

Fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control.

Love is not a hippie-bubble statement.  It is not doing occasionally nice things- It is treating people well in the middle of the daily tough tasks that life presents us.  Without blaming others, speaking in ugliness about others, complaining about them, hating them, picking at them, flying out of control, bleeding bad temper and bad mood.  It is none of those things.  It is being patient with faults, because we have so many of our own.  Living peaceably with others, giving them respect.  It is reigning in what is on the inside- because lots of the time, it should never, ever come out.

I have learned this the hard way.

Nonetheless, protecting my quiet time helps reign in the bad and the ugly, and assists in developing the good.  I appreciate God’s wisdom much more, since seeing the limitations of my own.

In other news:

This is how the laundry situation is faring this morning.  Projections are hopeful for the afternoon.

This is the gift that sweet Pat left me before work this morning.  A car load’s worth of smelly gym clothes.  He looked sheepish as he snuck the bulging bag in the house.  But I smiled and agreed to launder them.  He was glad for the smile and not the gnashed teeth and flames from the head.

And this is how Anna’s room appears.  She rises quite early and rushes to get to school, so mercy is my word today.  Moms should do mercy a lot.

My work is clearly cut out for me this afternoon.

God has outdone Himself in the weather today.  The house is more colorful and bright, simply because of the back-drop of beauty outside the windows.

I have much to be grateful for always.  But somehow, after a long and grey-ish winter, I am finding it a little easier with the return of color and light.

Impassioned Anna: Pizza should reflect love

Last week I mentioned my plans to make pizza for dinner.  Anna immediately asked: Can we order Papa John’s?  Josh said: Oh, not your home-made pizza!  Emma fled the room, as she always does when faced with the thought of eating something that is not chocolate pudding: I hate dinner!

The general boo’s and hisses can sometimes tire me.  When will these little ones learn gratitude?  God, excavate their hearts!

Practical Josh: Pizza is supposed to be circular

I don’t like the kids to complain about dinner.  It bugs me inside and out.  How ungrateful on so many levels!  There are times when I can preach it and they listen.  They really listen.  But other times, they are listening but unhearing. 

So, fine!  You can make your own dinner.  You can see what goes into dinner and what comes out.  You will eat it, so best make it something you like.

Pat and I do not need heart-shaped Dinners

And they did.  Did they love it?  Not necessarily.  But you know what?  They didn’t complain.  Because they had created the thing they didn’t like.  It was out of my hands and into theirs.  It took 30 minutes or so to roll and bake the object of dinner: and they held their tongues much more, because they were proud of what they had accomplished….

…and aware of what went into creating what they did not care for. 

There was grudging respect, because it was their sweat-equity.  Although I am still recovering myself from the mountains of patience it took to allow Emma to liberally sprinkle herself and her siblings and my hardwood floors in cheese, object lessons are helpful.

Working life with my kids is revealing: I am frustrated with them for not noticing what I do.  And while it is needful to target their selfishness, it also allows me to speak with them about human nature: I -their mother- do not appreciate God enough.  There are so many things I do not thank Him for.  So many invisibles to me, that are noticeable and intentional on His end.  I am always, always learning.

Seeing our Father in everything makes life one long thanksgiving and gives rest of the heart.

- Hannah Whithall-Smith-