sometimes what they see...

On two occasions in one day, our six year old threw up. Both times we had a trash can handy, but the first time for some reason he threw up right beside the can directly on the carpet. The next time he didn't even make it to an upright position, it landed all over him. When he finally felt well enough to join the rest of us in the living room, we, of course, carried in the "unused" trash can and he pointed out our silliness by saying "You don't really need to bring that in here, I never make it in there anyway". He was obviously paying attention to the situation better than we were.

They are always so observant. Sometimes I wish they weren't. Sometimes what I model for them is less than pleasant. When my mind consumes itself with matters in this world rather than Him, I get ugly. They see it. Then, they're infected, too. There are times when my reaction to them is too harsh. Actually, I would require a much greater transgression by a stranger before I would react in such a way, but with the ones who are dear to me I get an attitude. I teach by how I live and I'm still struggling to be a doer instead of just a reader of His words.

But there are bright moments of hope. Moments that show me His mercy for not allowing the poison I pass to seep into them or His grace for covering my shortcomings with some goodness from Him. These moments come when one of these little or big ones recalls a memory of something we do in this family, something having to do with Him. They speak of such things as though it is standard practice around here and yet it may be something we feel we have failed at.

Lily prompted one of these moments of hope recently. She is one and a half, so obviously still a baby-sort, but she has been watching keenly. One morning, when only she and I were awake, I walked to the living room, telling her, "Mama's going to read her Bible". She immediately ran to the living room, pointed to the shelf, and said her version of the word "book" and "my". She wanted her prayer journal book off the shelf. She relates that to prayer and the Bible, and I must say it's amazing that she makes that connection.

We have been slack in keeping up with these journals. The idea for them came from another blog (A Holy Experience) and we started them with much excitement taking a Psalm at a time. It's just we hit them only periodically. We have failed in our plans to make this a routine. Yet this baby knows when the Bible comes out, there's a special book that we write in. She's learning a practice that holds a spot in her memory...a practice that says this Bible is a special book, it's so good that you takes notes. Even when our consistency suffers, she still remembers.

He takes the little we offer and blesses it. That is His grace showering this family.

As parents, we lack in so many areas. Some of the kinks in our parenting will still be there when all these arrows leave our house. We just keep reminding all of them that we're still growing in Him too...we're still learning. They tend to be pretty forgiving with us.

Sometimes, from my vantage point, I'm sure we're failing, but then He shows me that He helps them see what I don't even see.

i ate my manna on the go

I have lived a life full of lists written on any scrap of paper I can find. Lists for items needed, menus for the week, chores to conquer, school assignments to plan, books to read...My plans always exceed reality.

I want so desperately to accomplish much while I'm still here, but up till now my plan of attack for all those lists has led to falling short. My goal in the last year or so has been to replace my "way" of scheduling with what I know is His way of scheduling.

There are many things, for example, in schooling my children, of which I have let go over the years because traditional teaching includes certain subjects that must be covered or professionals insist there are certain concepts children must be taught. So in order to cover these things, I fore go the most valuable. I sacrifice the precious to give them the typical.

Our daily Bible reading aloud and journal entries about that reading has become less frequent. Our nature walks with nature journals, obsolete, this year. Our reading classics aloud as a family, optional and rare. We still do many things of great value as a family, but I have set aside many of the most beneficial opportunities for growth of their minds in order to gain the right to fill out a transcript and give a "credit". I suddenly want to flush all the credits and refuse to even consider schooling in a traditional method.

I want them to be like Daniel and his friends, refusing to eat the king's meat and drink, then after a period of time proving that following God's way not the way of man shows them more excellent...because God's touch surpasses any man-made way.

I give the example of school, but this is what I struggle with in me too. I wake up and even as a mom who spends every day with these arrow kids, I let go of what is most important for me also. My thoughts are centered around the mundane, while I let the precious go. I read a quick devotion or nibble a few scriptures before beginning the great tasks that I "need" to accomplish. What if I actually refused to participate in mankind's version of how to be the best home school mom and instead thought on Him for hours during the day? What if I let Him lead my moments one by one each day? What if I trusted Him that much? What if I feasted on the manna He gives me everyday instead of grabbing a little here and there and trying to hoard some for later when I am short on time?

I know what the result would be.

Daniel 1:20--"And in all matters of wisdom and understanding about which the king examined them, he found them ten times better than all..."

i hear hope

Sounds of the season infiltrate this little spot on earth.

Little wildflower Lily who proclaims, each time I say "look at the angel",..."Mama". This has been a special sound to hear this season, her confusing my name with every angelic being on display. My name is actually Angela, but for some reason, when still a baby, my father called me Angel and it stuck. Now these years later, Lily sees angels and thinks Mama.

Teenage Em calling to her little brothers to come lick the bowls. She's been sequestered in the kitchen for major help in preparing goodies for many we love. Strange place for this girl, as I've not spent the time I should have teaching her the way around a kitchen. Still, when left with no choice but to bake, she has enjoyed it and shared the yum with the little guys.

Luke, the middle, reading to his Papa the 23rd Psalm just yesterday. This little man whose heart is so drawn to the One who created Him reaching out to a big man whose heart, Luke hopes, to see drawn to the Same. A soft tender heart consistently praying prayers for a man he loves.

The teenage guy sitting across from me yesterday munching Chinese carrying the conversation. And today finally asking questions about a genealogy that has consumed many of my hours lately. Finally, he speaks and I listen.

Ethan repeatedly "when can I do something for Jake for Christmas?" He loves the one who towers over him. He wants to glue himself to Jake and stay there. He knows good people when he sees them.

You delivered Hope that day. I experience Your hope when I hear their sounds of the season. Hearts leaning toward You that is what I hope for them.

i'm a shepherd...so are you

Luke 2:8--"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field,..."

They were watching, keeping, protecting the flock as was their duty. He chose to proclaim the most exciting news of any age to them. What better backdrop for a cantata of heavenly hosts than the infinite space of the night time sky, lighting it up with the brilliance of His messengers! They were in the perfect spot for the introduction of the long awaited One.

Some say He appeared to lowly shepherds to show that He accepts all, even the lowliest. But I wonder? Maybe He chose them to show that there is none higher. He is no respecter of persons, all are equal before Him.

Man establishes social statuses. Social hierarchy exists in our schools, our communities, our government, and, yes, in our churches. But that is not from Him. There may be those who offer less, accomplish less, voice less, and acquire less, but there are not any who are less. Standing before Him, our measure is the same...we are condemned without His grace or we are saved by it.

In a world where pride would be at enmity with God, where pride would destroy and separate us from Him, the first guests invited to come see Him had to come lowly. He calls us to rid ourselves of our desires for prominence, accolades, even our desires to be wanted. He calls us to accept a spot in the low places, walk humbly, be servants, esteem others higher than ourselves. He knows the magnetic effect of pride for the weak human heart and He wants to deter us from the devastation it causes. No wonder His humble entrance.

Shepherds were the unaccepted, unacknowledged, unwanted, but did He announce the great news first to them to show His acceptance of the lowly or to remind us that we are all lowly and He chooses us anyway? Love is most powerful when it accepts someone at their worst. When one receives that kind of love, they know it is real. That is a life changing kind of love and in the changed life He is seen and He receives glory. Glory rightly assigned.

He came to all of us, but we must meet Him in our lowly state just as they did that night.

Luke 2:17 & 20--"And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child...And the shepherds returned glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them."

they can't possibly know my thoughts toward them

Luke 2:14--"...on earth peace, good will toward men."

Often my mind thinks on them, but they don't know. Little one lying on the couch nursing stuffy nose and aching body. High school man, my biggest (human) help, working on computer. Teenage girl driving into town with her biggest fan, her dad. Little wildflower girl, along for the ride. Then there's the most sensitive fella writing out a card for his sis. All involved in their own activities, thoughts on things that are important to them at the moment. They can't know how often I think of them and how I hope for them. They do not know how eager I am for them to live fully and enjoy people around them. They can't know how I hope they avoid evils that would sidetrack them from the good they can experience. They know of my love because they've tasted it, but they cannot know the depths of my thoughts, love, hopes...
How could they ever know except they continue the life circle and have some of their own who stay on their minds?
This makes it so real for me. The purpose of the lights, trees, carols, all the celebration. How can I know how great His love and His thoughts are toward me? I am involved in what is important to me at this moment. My little revolving world. I know Him as my children know me, but never could I know the full extent of His thoughts toward me. Sometimes the extraordinary event that took place two thousand years ago becomes commonplace in my mind. Phrases repeated year after year, messages heard many times, Christmas plays, songs...I am a shallow person who allows the depth to bounce off my heart at times because I absorb myself in routine and leave little time to celebrate what is sacred.
But He delivers His message to me through these children because He causes my heart to ache for them, long for good for them, strive to lead them in the right way, sacrifice my own way for them...sacrifice...
That makes it real for me. I am simple me and I want all good for them. He is who He is. How much greater is His love and His desire for good for me. I cannot fully taste it as these little ones cannot fully grasp my feelings for them. They fight against my goodwill for them, I fight against His goodwill for me. I do not give up on them, He does not give up on me. They keep learning to trust me, I keep learning to trust Him. They get closer to me, I get closer to Him.
If there are no gifts, no decorations, no plays, no parties, then all is well because there is Him. He does not change, His love never stops, He is. And that makes Christmas what it is...my celebration of Him loving me...for a simple child like me, it doesn't get better than that because I've tasted love from the viewpoint of a mama.

Luke 2:19--"...Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart..."

no room for him

Over the years, some have actually felt sorry for our little ones around this time of year. I'll never forget the time some visiting relatives asked our, at the time, three year old son if he was excited about Santa coming. Little guy just told them Santa isn't real and kept playing. He must have surprised them because they seemed to be speechless. We understood early on that some would think it sad that we would skip the fun charade of the jolly old elf. Fortunately, He taught us early that our parenting wouldn't be shaped by the opinions of others.

There is no hostility towards St. Nick in our home. We even have a Santa ornament on our tree, he is reverently kneeling before the Christ child. And we have read the poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas" aloud to the kids. But we knew when the Christmas season approached, time followed the same rules that it did throughout the rest of the year...there's only so much of it allotted to each day. We are not such an organized team that we could fit in a celebration of the One who brought hope along with milk and cookies, reindeer hoof prints, and sitting on a strangers lap asking for gifts. Plus, we wanted our children to learn to be grateful early in life. How could they be thankful to us and their Provider if we gave credit to the imaginary? When we weighed our options of how we would celebrate the season, the Hope Bringer won easily. If we would only have time to celebrate one, it would be Him.

We have never regretted that choice. There has been no void of what is special and memorable. Santa has never been missed. Our schedules at this Yuletide are full and we've had no room for him. The Hope Bringer has deserved all the attention. He has delivered hope to us continuously. We just want to plant in these growing hearts an ever increasing celebration of the anticipation of the One who delivered hope to all. He is worth it.

Luke 2:10,11---"...for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour..."

shedding skin

You have made it a part of nature

shedding what is old, allowing new growth.

Creeping serpents and crawling lizards leave their skin behind

revealing growth beneath,

growth that has been in the process,

but has been unseen.

It can't be seen until the old is removed.

Removal of the old takes a while.

It does not just simply fall off.

A lizard must rub her head and body against rough surfaces

to help the molting along.

I feel slightly familiar with the process.

Rubbing off what is no good, wrestling to be released

from what keeps the newly grown me from appearing,

struggling between the rough and difficult places,

hope urging me to keep on with the struggle

for there is something good waiting.

The lizard sheds her skin, showing a shining, smooth outer self.

I shed mine, not for what shows on the outside,

but to reveal Your continued work on the inside.

A little message from You to me, saying You do not give up on me.

Reminding me that You are the One I must rely on,

You are the One I must present myself to,

You are the One I stand before.

If I were only to present myself to all my equals,

the fellow pilgrims on this earth,

the molting would not seem so tough.

They can only see so much of me.

Surely I could attain man's measure of goodness.

But before You I am fully exposed.

Those quiet dark places inside that want to refuse to grow and change,

You light those places, allowing me to see them for what they are,

inhibitors to my growth.

You offer me real growth so You can show Yourself in this little mortal,

and I hold tight to You because molting happens more than once in a life.

the blessings of hardships

I can't help but cringe a little at this time of the year. My ears are bombarded with pleas to give...unwrapped toys, gifts valued at a certain amount, money to help purchase gifts for those without. Am I wrong in my gut feeling here that we tend to try to soothe the hurts and emptiness of the needy with things?

We are among those who do not have quite as much cash flow as before. We have spread the word to extended family that we can't quite afford all those gifts we once gave, much to the relief of the extended family (because they can't either). So this year we've agreed to make goodies for each other's families. It's something simple, but it also means we're putting much thought into something special for their particular tastes. No smacking a credit card on a counter so there's something wrapped and under the tree for each one. Not this year, the lack of funds provides us with a rare treat...relief of the pressure to give the perfect manufactured gift and instead the time we will enjoy baking and cooking together while we taste test and package the perfect treats that we know are "his" or "her" favorite.

Our gift giving for our little ones looks a little different this year too. No expensive electronics, or latest gadgets, no lists. I've never enjoyed the idea of a list anyway. When I was younger, a gift meant something given because someone was thinking about you not something someone gave because you told them what you wanted. Yet somewhere along the way even I gave in to the gift list and I allowed our kids to give me one...before. Before this blessed year came along, that is. This year in which we are blessed with an opportunity that has before been hidden by an abundance of "things". It is a great place to be...the place of having little. Why do we try to mess that up for people by assuming the way to show them love is by bombarding them with material possessions. Material possessions aren't great conduits for love, but having to be creative in expressing love provides just that.

We drew names amongst the seven immediate family members this year. Having a handful of kids, we didn't want them to all be trying to buy for seven different people so drawing one name seemed a good solution. The results made me even more thankful for hard times. Everyone looked to see who they received, only Lily, our little wildflower, received her own name so I quickly exchanged with her. Oldest boy got youngest boy; youngest boy got mom; mom got the wildflower; wildflower got dad; dad got oldest boy. But wait...there were two more. Amazing the two that were left. Most of the time in this simple family there is peace, but when there isn't, probably 80% of those times, there are two little people in this family dealing with friction of such magnitude that I search for opportunities for them to show love to one another...they were the only two who drew each others names. Blessings sometimes are hiding out in the hardships if we just allow the hardships to happen instead of always trying to prevent them for people.

Philippians 4:11--"...for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

the agonizing wait

Over the years, teaching the little ones to read has been a great challenge in character for me. Impatience lives in my bones and sometimes I'm sure that's one reason He gave us our handful of arrows. Patience is forced upon the person who must sit down with a child who tediously sounds out every vowel and consonant, a couple of times, and then repeats the sounds to try to form some semblance of a word they recognize. When this goes on for word after word, sentence after sentence, a person either comes unglued and frustrates themselves and the child or that person learns to sit quietly, giving up their own desires for a chunk of time. They learn to wait.

Moving to a small town can have the same effect...learning to wait. When we moved to this area, I was given a precious gift by an individual in the Wal Mart store one day. As she assisted me, our conversation revealed that I was new to the area. That's when she gave me her gift...priceless information. She told me that the people in this county are the kindest you can find, but it would take ten years before they would accept me. And then she said it would take another ten years before this place would feel like it was really my home. I had only lived here for a few months and had already experienced a huge let down.

For years before we moved here, I had been so excited to meet the people my husband had told me about. I had never really had a hometown before so this was going to be my spot. Along with my anticipation of having a hometown came my plans for getting to know everyone. I failed to take into consideration that my anticipation was only mine and not shared with all those people I planned to get acquainted with. By the time I met that woman in Wal Mart, I had come to realize that no one out here had been eagerly awaiting my arrival. People out here had their lives and their friendships established. I appeared to not really be needed. That was my let down.

So when I received my gift of information that day, life changed and I began to learn to wait. She was right. The kindest people you could meet, ten years before you're accepted...it's going on twelve years out here and just recently I've had moments when it feels like I belong here. I suppose it's becoming home now.

Waiting can be agonizing, but when someone shows you the hope for what is to come, waiting is certainly bearable. Whether sitting thirty minutes waiting for a child to sound out each syllable knowing one day he'll read fluently because of this or living each day of ten years knowing time around people will establish you as part of the community, whatever the wait, hope sustains.

If He didn't allow the agony of the wait, I fear I may not have depended on Him as much. He is very good to me that way...giving me what I need to keep me close to Him.

Isaiah 40:31--"But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."

the cowardly lion in me

One day I want to be tough. Sometimes the weakness in me causes an intense pain in the inward parts. The kind of pain that allows tears to flow when it doesn't make sense to cry. Logic screams to me "this is not cry-worthy" or "this doesn't bother anyone else" or maybe "why do you take things so seriously?" But the "weak me" is actually stronger than any logic and I succumb to the torture my mind will put me through.

I had anticipated this day all week. Open House at our local Historical Society. I've been spending much time there lately working on a genealogy. This is an incredible place, the building itself will turn 100 years old next year. But it's the material living on the shelves that is really the draw for me. I enjoy every moment I spend there.

I did have slight trepidation in going today. I recently voiced opinions that could offend some there. So I've been on tiptoes lately when I approach the door. But today was THE day. The day when many would be there...my opportunity to be friendly in an effort to show that my opinion doesn't equal hostility.

As I entered, a familiar friendly face was there to my delight. But my delight ended right when it began because the next moment I entered a room with about four people I don't know. That's all it took to topple my intentions of showing friendship. I was through that room and into the hallway, heading upstairs to spend a few hours alone with historical books. Ignoring kind invitations to come back. Put simply--I was rude. My discomfort with people came out and I was rude. I gave in to fear...again.

I tend to have to relearn this lesson often--Fear nothing, but the LORD. When I have HIM at the center of my thoughts, nothing scares me, no fear of people, nothing. But when I'm at the center of my thoughts, I have days like this!

If I would just get my thoughts right or "take them captive", then "weak me" wouldn't be so powerful right now.

Proverbs 14:26--"In the fear of the LORD is strong confidence..."

they take it so seriously...I need some of that

I promise I am aware that the five arrows in this home have no monopoly in being special. All children are brilliant in one way or another with promise of something great, but it's up to the adults around them to see it. The ones He has put here bombard me with moments which cause me to see it often, but they also unknowingly offer me lessons from Him.


Today little six year old guy replayed a scene I enjoy. He entered Grandma's house while playing with his nine year old brother, mouthing something, no noise coming out, just those little lips shaping words that couldn't be heard. I knew immediately to speak one word to solve his speechless problem. "Ethan," I said and with that he smiled and ran back outside.

His older brother had jinxed him. He does it often. He's rather strategic with it. He entices little guy to repeat a phrase with him as though it's a cheer or a chant and when he sees he's following his lead, he makes sure they say it simultaneously and then he attacks with "jinx on you" rendering little guy speechless. The funny part is that little guy always abides by the rules and stays quiet until someone "frees" him by speaking his name.


They live honoring each other in this strange way. They listen to words spoken by a sibling and it means something to them. They take it seriously.

Once the two olders were playing with invisible cars, yes, invisible. The oldest snatched his sister's "car" and she cried for quite a while until she got it back. Yes, by invisible I mean it didn't really exist, but it didn't matter. He said he had it and she listened to his words.

I am drawn to this peculiar respect they have for one another because I struggle to have such a high regard for the words of others. I often question the sincerity of words. Of course, when one questions anothers words usually they do not heed them. This becomes a danger zone for me when the words are those of the One who loves me most. My determination to fully follow Him begins to wane simply because His words become faint when I do not take them as seriously as I once did. I find myself looking at the physical, the world around me, the visible that distracts and entices. So one of the google reasons He placed these little ones here is to model trusting anothers words. They do this well and I, the child of His who's still learning, I am grateful for the lesson.

Deuteronomy 8:3--"...but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the LORD doth man live."

how they love me so well

I am not a great mother. I didn't grow up learning how to care for children and a home. The fact that this family resembles a family and this home doesn't cave in due to dust bunnies and debris is simply amazing. Somewhere along the way when we gave birth to the first fellow something just clicked in this mind..."he's important and he deserves something good from me" and the thoughts were repeated with each addition to the family. The idea of being there for them everyday wasn't something I learned, it was just logical to do that.

Little child put in my arms by a doctor, making funny noises, crying and making me cry because I don't know what to do...Each one was different so we never really had anything figured out. With each different personality came a different technique for dealing with those personalities. I knew early on of my desperate need for His help. He has been faithful for if you look at us from a distance we manage to resemble a family and if you come closer, you can see the love.

They have been shown love for years now and now they leave trails of it for us, like a flower girl dropping flower petals down an aisle. It's just who they are, and what's been pumped in coming out as a fountain...and right now Dad and I are the basins that catch most of that love.

They're far from sinless...actually terribly flawed like their parents, but they know how to love. Oldest girl knows how a Josh Groban song can be soothing for her mama, so while listening to Christmas music lately when his voice comes, she turns it up, not for her, for she doesn't like that, but for me...that's one way she loves. Little guy, when asked to bring me a blanket the other night, comes back with "here, I brought your special one", it was the one Oldest boy brought back from Honduras and it is special. They all love very well.

Most people who've received love tend to pour it back out. Do we take time to see it though? It takes watching them to really recognize that what they're doing is loving us. Sometimes love can easily be overlooked. A sweet act of love can be interpreted as simply what someone owes us and over years, as the love gifts are not valued, those precious ones may cease in the giving. Who wants to keep giving what is not appreciated? Well, there is One. He does that well to me for I have shown little acknowledgement to His great gifts of Love on many occasions, but He keeps giving.

I may have to make a caution sign for myself...a reminder to slow down and look for the love expressed, not just from them, but from Him too.

I don't relish their pain, but I want them to suffer

Today has been declared a holiday by oldest girl. Don't think her awful, but she's celebrating the departure of her younger siblings, all three of whom have taken off to Georgia with their grandma to visit their great-grandma. Oldest girl really does love them...she shows it often with her actions around here, but she delights in moments when she and big brother are the only two. So she makes chocolate chip pancakes this morning while playing music which livens her like coffee does others.

I enjoy these times, but some of the other times we've seen lately are the ones I know they need too. The times of pain, discomfort, sorrow...the times we don't celebrate, but dread.

Mankind has a tonic for every situation that offers the slightest of negative emotions. If one feels uncomfortable around people, if sadness is too intense, if disappointment comes...there seems to always be a man-solution for it. We surround people who are suffering sometimes when they need to experience the loneliness so they will call on a Father who is the company they can rely on much more than us. We give pills that allow a numbing so they won't feel sorrow when they need to face the sorrow so they can see a Father who brings them through what seems so unbearable. We offer substances that will bring one a sensation of ease when usually they would feel fear, a fear that could motivate them to ask of One who gives courage.

We offer answers according to our limited understanding sometimes out of affection for those we love, but our answers lead to people relying on people.

I want these small people He has put in this home to learn to rely on One who is not limited. My help will come to an end quickly, my band aids for their hurts will not cure, but if they are allowed to suffer, they will find the Source for all healing. Healing that is not artificial and temporary, but healing that is real and eternal.

What do I do then? I learn to stand aside and not get involved in every situation. I learn to pray. Help when I can do something, but then walk away and let them suffer so that they will call on Him...more than a help, one who can salvage, make new, bring joy, give courage, change, and grow them.

2 Timothy 1:8,9 & 12--"...but share with me in the sufferings for the gospel according to the power of God, who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace...For this reason I also suffer these things nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able..."

my quiet time of looking through the window

Anyone who has peeked into this blog as of yet realizes by now there is no great wisdom pouring out from it, just words conceived by a life lived imperfectly, but desperately clinging to what is stable...Him.
At this time in life, I freely admit I am parched, dry as a dead, brown fallen leaf in autumn. When I am in church, sometimes one of the pastors may make a statement like "if you're not feeling something here right now, then something's wrong with you" and I realize there might just be something wrong with me, for I feel nothing much. I go to church and watch as it looks like wonderful things are taking place, but I know I'm not part of it. It's like I'm on the outside of great things He's doing, just watching, being a spectator, seeing Him working in others, but I remain unaffected. There is no great trial that has presented itself just this person being distracted by things that happen in life instead of staying focused on the One who gave it. But even in this desert place, I see His workings. And though I feel nothing, I cannot be swayed to doubt Him because evidence of Him is all about and obvious.
It's like the wind. When I'm outside and the wind passes by, I cannot see it, but it's evident as it whistles through my hair. But sometimes, I'm inside where it cannot touch me and I cannot feel it, but I still see it's effects as trees sway back and forth.
Today, looking out the window, hardly any sign of movement in the trees has been seen. Just a simple dead stillness, which is kind of how I'm feeling, but back behind our house, just over a little hill, is a very thin pine tree permanently leaning to the side. It was permanently tilted a few years back when a tropical storm blew through. It stands as evidence that the wind has been here, so I know it was real and more than likely will be back. It's just that today's a quiet day.
So in my quiet days of right now, when I'm feeling nothing, I have searched the landscape and seen many things in this life which have been permanently altered thanks to the only One who could have done that. Even in the stillness, what He has already done stands as a witness to me.

John 3:8--"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."

allowing the hurt

By the time I had my fifth child, I had read a variety of info about labor and how best to get through it. There was one thing that helped a great deal with labor for me. One bit of simple advice. Don't fight the pain, just allow it. I tend to be very tense naturally so when pain comes, my whole body fights it. I practiced "just allowing it" and to my surprise it worked. No tension of fighting the pain, but just relaxing the body and letting the pain come, since it was coming whether I welcomed it or not! I made it farther along with no meds in labor when I practiced that than when bracing myself, tensing up and gritting teeth. I guess I should do the same in all aspects of life.

There are certainly labor pains in life when poor choices give birth to consequences. I think there are stretch marks too, those would be the creases across my forehead. Sometimes in the living I fail to stop and ask for direction from the One who loves me most. I do that "leaning unto my own understanding" thing and end up in the mire. Shortly after that, the contractions begin. For the most part in the past, I have anguished as the pain comes. Asking questions of why and pleading for the situation to be fixed. Now, however, due to my great resume, which shows my extensive list of achievements in the area of causing problems for myself, I am learning the same solution I learned through childbirth...just allow the pain. Allow the pain because it is a natural result of doing things my way. Yes, there are tears and prayers from a low hanging head, but not as many questions of why or pleading for an answer, more just enduring and reminding myself "next time ask Him how to handle the situation so you don't end up here again". I just do the next thing as I allow the pain. Although I'm not real thrilled with the agony in the heart, I excitedly await the arrival of a big bundle of growth.

for the pea-pickers soul

Thumbs are sore this morning and will be again today. Yesterday I was given the sweetest gift anyone could give me. Of course the givers would never know that. After all, why would anyone think that picking peas could act as salve on a soul?

Memories of my six Georgia years are welcome in my mind, the only ones I ever try to recall. I was two on arriving and eight when we left. This was the worst time for my parents. Jobs were difficult to find. We were the poor family at church that received "charity" in various forms. I can understand how difficult this must have been for my parents now. As a parent, I know it would be humbling to have people offer you "gifts" because someone thought you were unable to care for your own. People want to be kind and give to the unfortunate, but it's those who are willing to receive it who face the humble task, for in the taking sometimes you're admitting you need the help.

Once the church gave my mom a sum of money to help with expenses. Shortly after that, at a church related event she saw a show and tell record player. You slid the film strip in the slot and played the record, as the Bible story was told, the film strip slid down and showed the pictures on a t.v. screen. She wanted it so badly so she used the money the church had given her to buy it. As she made the purchase, the pastor of the church gave her a disapproving look. (Sometimes when people give charity, it's yours as long as you use it as they wish.) She felt so small, but she never regretted getting it. We learned many Bible stories from watching it. Anyway the humbling times are not ever going to be remembered fondly, I suppose. So those Georgia years meant hardship and shame for my parents but for me, those were my good times.

We picked in others' gardens. The deal was always the same, whatever we picked, we kept half and gave them the other half as payment for letting us pick in their fields. I don't ever remember enjoying the picking back then, but whenever I get to now there is a strange peace and pleasure that combine to soothe negative feelings. Memories are tricky, the really bad ones can sometimes be dominant, drowning out the existence of the good. But when one experiences something again, that deja vu moment can stir up the memories so the good that was buried deep now resurfaces. That happens in a pea field for me. I could pick peas for days and never tire just to get that.

My favorite recent pea picking memory was when my mom, sister, and I went back to Georgia one year and brought my grandma to this massive pea farm. There were acres and acres of peas. My sister does not find anything appealing about farming or country life so watching her in a pea field again was funny. We knew she didn't like it, but she kept on until finally she stood tall in that pea field and starting singing loudly the country song "She thinks my tractor's sexy..." She and I both share the same childhood memories...maybe a little nostalgia hit her in that moment too, a little "chicken soup for the pea pickers soul".

James 1:17--"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above..."

His grace

I've recently been reading a book about George Washington. In it is the story of how he became leader of the Continental Army. He knew a recommendation was coming soon to the Congress for who should be the commander and he suspected they may choose him. He confided with a friend in Congress that he felt unable to carry out such a task so he asked his friend to dissuade them from choosing him, as his friend did, but he was chosen unanimously. He did accept the position, but with the following words: "...I beg it may be remembered...that I, this day, declare with utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with." Somewhat scary words considering the responsibility he had just assumed. But later on in a letter to Martha, he wrote these words "...I go fully trusting in that Providence, which has been more bountiful to me than I deserve..." That just gives me a picture of how to handle praise---with warning to the givers of one's lacking and knowledge that anything good that comes is provided by the Almighty.

Praise is very humbling when you're the recipient of it and you know the truth. The truth of "if they only knew"...if they only could realize how much of what they see is the result of nothing but the grace of the Everlasting Father.

His grace is especially evident when raising kids. His grace covers a multitude of imperfections in any parent. Two very flawed individuals seem like they would pass on a heritage of disaster to unsuspecting offspring, but when He is included in the picture...It's like someone taking some of the most questionable ingredients, mixing them, baking them together, and ending up with an appealing culinary creation that pleases all who taste. It doesn't make sense, but that's because we are limited in our understanding and cannot comprehend His infinite ways of piecing together the craziest of jigsaw puzzles.

After spending years praying over little ones and pleading for mercy for them, considering the humans they were born from, suddenly it's possible to see a harvest of grace. Traits in them that had to have been planted by Him. Answered prayers that were prayed for them that the parent could never have been responsible for making happen. He is good to those who honor Him. There is no denying that. He is forgiving of imperfections in His own and His grace covers them.

His ways continue to baffle me because my brain works in the human way...the "try to figure it out" way. He takes those who are insignificant and incapable and allows them to be the caretakers of His possessions, and it looks like the individuals actually know what they're doing. The important part is making sure that those who lavish praise are reminded who it should be given to.

I Samuel 2:30--"...for them that honor me I will honor..."

still don't know what a typical day is supposed to be like

As a homeschooler, I have worked hard over the years to plan our days well. I have created numerous schedules, chore charts, menus, lesson plans, things to do lists, and probably have been responsible for a few acres of precious timber needlessly being harvested with the paper I've wasted since most of my plans are never followed.

Often when reading books about homeschooling, there is that one section where a typical daily schedule is presented. I'm laughing just thinking about it now because after these eleven, almost twelve, homeschooling years, I still don't think I've ever actually experienced a typical day. I've made the plans and certainly intended to follow them, but I'm just not that structured. We wake up on time, but instead of what I had planned for breakfast...hey, how about pancakes. And then there's the really interesting conversation that starts at breakfast and finds us still there an hour later. (We do a lot of talking around the table!) And of course, if a stray critter shows up, we have to catch it or one of the kids might do something so cool...get the video camera out. We just never seem to have the time to fit a schedule in this life.

I have certainly not been the best example of a wise steward of time, and one day each of them may be shocked for just a couple of days when they enter the world and realize there are time constraints, but I think they'll be okay after a few days. I do not totally regret the spontaneous nature of our family life. Some of our best lessons have been taught over conversations that erupted out of events that benched my plans for the day. A lot of Scriptures have been discussed over extended breakfasts. Much sibling bonding has happened when we've delayed opening the books and decided to enjoy each other for a while instead.

I'll probably continue my pattern of lists, schedules, and various other organizing tools that use up a lot of paper and look really great on the frig, but I'll not be one to demand anyone to follow them precisely, just maybe as a slight suggestion. Even today as the two younger boys were playing, I heard the youngest correcting the older, saying "You said you would...Let your yes be yes and your no be no." That was one of those Scripture lessons we halted school for years ago when high school man was tiny. He's been passing all those things to them over the years so I'm okay with our rather unscheduled ways.

Psalm 16:11--"Thou wilt show me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore."

forty-seven years later

My husband highlighted a verse in his Bible years ago and wrote my name next to it. Proverbs 12:4--"An excellent wife is the crown of her husband, but she who causes shame is like rottenness in his bones." The big question for me has always been "so which one am I?" And I'm not joking on this one, I'm capable of causing a mess. But he is an optimist and declares that I'm the former not the latter. That's just his way, willing to give the benefit of the doubt. Forty-seven years ago today, the LORD put him here on this planet. And I am the recipient of the greatest blessings because of that. To recognize him on his special day I'm posting something I wrote about him on Father's Day on my facebook notes. He is a man who stands firm.

-Twenty years ago I was a newly wed who honestly didn't know what I was doing even being married. I certainly did not have the maturity to choose a good man to be my husband or to be the father of my children. That's not where my mind was. My mind was struggling with just learning to be grown up! Fortunately, there is One whose way is so far above mine. He put a sweet man right where he needed to be so we could find each other and be together. I have had such a great vantage point in watching the making of an incredible man. He would have to be incredible to tolerate living with me. That was not a task for any other man! But it's Preach the father that I've watched over the years and seen the transformation in. Preach did like a lot of dads. When Jake, our first, was born, he would always help with baths and diapers. But what was most amazing about him was his attitude. Always up. Never tired of dealing with a baby or the very hormonal mother of the baby. Patience was just his character so it didn't really matter if he had read the parenting books or not, his character was more help to me than any advice from a book could have been. As the years passed, we both saw the huge responsibility of steering our kids in the right direction. Emily came then Luke and by this time we had chosen to teach our children at home. This may seem like it wouldn't be such a difficult choice to some, but this sweet man grew up in a county where homeschooling was not a popular thing to consider at the time and that year we were just moving back there. He's a Baker County Wildcat graduate and people out here are very supportive of their schools so this went against the grain in a big way. He didn't blink though. When he listened to my concerns and prayed about it, he agreed and we began a different way of living, but a good one! He's handled most of the problems we've faced the same way, listening and prayer. When our fourth, Ethan, was born, he was delivered by c-section. The doctor stood over me with Preach right there and said a couple of times "are you sure you don't want me to take care of some things while I've got you opened up, I'm right here and can do it with no problem?" I told him no, something just didn't feel good about doing that right then even though we didn't plan to have more children. Preach didn't blink again, didn't even ask me to consider it since he knew I didn't feel comfortable with that. He never made jokes about having enough or being finished. He's always been glad when we found out any of the kids were on their way. He's the one who comforted me for the first two weeks after we found out Lily was coming, big surprise there! He is so thankful for his "five arrows" and has sacrificed a lot for them without complaining. He is an avid hunter who hardly gets to hunt. A man who enjoys watching news and sports, but has given up his t.v. because the influence on the kids was questionable. He is still learning how to parent just like me, but he knows what his responsibility is: To guide all these little ones in the right direction. A lot of dads carry pictures of their kids around, but we have five kids who are all walking pictures of their daddy in some way. Jake has his dad's easy going nature. It makes him great to work with. Emily has his confidence. Someone could come up and say something insulting to her and she wouldn't think of taking it personally, it just doesn't bother her. (Being incredibly sensitive, I still don't understand that one!) But that's how her daddy is. Luke has his daddy's heart to know the Lord. He's so intrigued by the Bible and wants to follow it, a lot of that is from Preach. Ethan has his daddy's freedom. Nothing inhibits him, he's just free to be. And then there's Lily. She's still young, but if you're around her for just a few seconds, you'll see Preach when she smiles. His ear to ear smile is right on her face.-

As we get older, Preach's expressions of love to me have resembled more and more the love of Christ for His church. As to the verse he labeled with my name, I have one that reminds me of him also and it follows.

Psalm 1:3--"He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that brings forth its fruit in its season, whose leaf also shall not wither; And whatsoever he does shall prosper."

breathing freely

There is freedom in humility. When there is no point in trying to impress anyone, for the lacking in self is most evident, then humility pops up its head and says now live like He made you to live. Ahhh, freedom!

Of course, it's the road traveled to reach that place of humility that's difficult for the proud, like me! A person can become focused on living so as not to let others down instead of living to glorify Him. Years of this can go by without seeing the mistake, after all if you're doing what is good and right who's going to complain. But when the will gets tired and starts to question the motives and the point of it all, then true colors show and sometimes they're not very appealing. If His seed is planted in the heart, then it will show itself through the struggle with self, but misery comes during that tug of war. The kind of misery that should come, the kind that detours from what would hurt us.

After the misery, comes the whining that no one likes to hear so I'm careful not to share it except in the writing sometimes! Whining because I haven't had MY way, after all haven't I "come a long way, baby", I've been told that I'm "worth it", and I've been around long enough now to know that I "have to love myself before I can love anyone else". Messages from this chaotic world infiltrate even minds that are set apart for Him and although I have never agreed with the messages, those ideas can be found even in my own whining to Him.

When finding myself rolled up in the fetal position spiritually, it's easy to see the small person that I am and be amazed because in spite of my smallness and my lacking, I know He is still there. He shows Himself in ways that amaze me, ways that could never be spoken with words, but He is obvious with His care for me and mine. I feel His eyes on me like they must have been on Peter that night so long ago when his own determination saw its end as he protected what was most dear to him, his plans for his life. What shame must have been felt as Those eyes caught his own in the moment when Peter denied that very One who had given him everything good. Peter could not have gotten lower than that and that was right where he needed to be, in the lowest place, so as Christ's prayers for him were heard, in the agony of Peter's awareness of his lowliness, he must have been newly outfitted in humility. For how could he glory in himself now, as was likely his nature before. He had to know how feeble he was and after Christ restored him, he had to know how great was his God. Suddenly humility must have popped up its head and said now live like He made you to live.

Just checking my own motives in the living lately.

Proverbs 22:4--"By humility and the fear of the LORD are riches, and honor, and life."

times when I feel like walking

There are days, and a lot of them in these past few months, when I feel like taking a sabbatical. However, the motherhood profession doesn't seem to allow such in the scheduling. Even still, as fields are allowed a break from the planting every so often and professors are allowed a break to rest or research, my mind longs for that also. I am not the epitome of a Proverbs 31 woman yet in this life. To act as though I am would be deceptive. I have very selfish ambitions I long to accomplish, like spending hours researching an event in history so I am certain I have the facts conquered before trying to tell my kids about it or becoming really good at just one thing as I have yet to become a master of any craft. Sometimes I just long to sit and write, write, write...without interruption.

It's easy to see when someone is self-centered, just listen for how many times she refers to herself as "I". I am not blind to my own selfishness. It is obvious in my writing, but also in my wants lately. It is in these times that the true gift of grace and the stability of faith are most real to me, for I do really feel like leaving all for just a while and this shows my character for what it really is...not too pretty.

Last night as I humbugged and dragged myself to bed, I shamefully found myself not even wanting to talk to the One who loves me most. As my fatigue with daily routines has worn me down and I have succumbed to selfish thoughts about my "I wants" lately, all I could mumble was "I have nothing to offer You right now". Of course, almost instantly, I laughed at my own words...as though I've ever had anything to offer Him. He has been most gracious and accepting of me and in return for the nothing I've ever offered Him, He has poured blessings out on me that can never be earned or achieved without His grace. Grace is most evident when we see ourselves for what we really are not what we convince ourselves we are based on accomplishments. When we are the poorest and lowest, grace becomes a treasure to hold tightly to and appreciate.

At the lowest of times, the mind can be bombarded with doubts. Is this really what I'm called to do? Can I maintain the course? I feel too weak to continue. Is there something else out there for me? Shameful thoughts, but they come and sometimes the mind listens when it shouldn't. For me, this is when the stability of my faith is checked. Do I really believe He's planned my future? Do I really believe He has better plans for me than I could devise on my own? Do I trust Him with my life? I must confess for the weak one typing on this keyboard it takes some wrestling with my selfish thoughts and agony in my spirit because I 'quietly' rebel against Him by mourning the loss of my selfish wants, before I finally come to the conclusion that "my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness". The stability of faith in Him preserves even when we are frail. Faith is a tight grip on the hand of rescue, if we trust the hand we don't let go.

Eventually, I hope strength comes and I become a mighty warrior for Him, although this warrior will probably walk softly and not too tall after seeing how lacking I really am. But I'm thankful for the keeping power of faith and grace.

Hebrews 11:1--"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

how we school on days like this

The weather calls us to a different school day than actually is planned on paper. Lesson plans are only to help not dictate.

So it's outside with all the kids after breakfast. Dressed in long sleeves finally, even though this weather only lasts a day or two where we live and then usually back to the 80's. For today, it is autumn and that changes our plans. No workbooks or paper or pens until the outside fun is finished. The public school year originally revolved around the farmers' planting seasons so children could be home to help when needed. So I don't mind changing my lesson plans due to conditions outside.

No they are not out helping with farming or gardens right now, just enjoying the weather and each other. We are lacking proper sports equipment right now so they are playing a mix of kickball and baseball using what they found. I'm sure I could search for lessons for them to learn out there like simple math for the young boys--"if baby Lily finds an ant bed and eats 43 ants, but spits out 38, then how many did she actually consume?" or for the older ones--"which of Newton's law of motion was exercised when the six foot three fella ran over the four foot child as he ran into home plate?" I suppose I could, but no, lessons will happen out there. Without even assigning them.

Usually these are when a lot of character lessons come. One has a bad attitude-time for a lesson. One says ugly words to another-another lesson. One decides the game should be changed because he's not winning--lesson time. They're not all negative lessons though. They learn to enjoy each other's company. They build memories with each other. They learn to watch over each other. And they learn to take advantage of moments that present themselves, moments like today that are better spent with each other than even with words in a book...and I love words in a book.

Ecclesiastes 3:1--"To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven:"

hormones were His creation also

I tend to be argumentative. When hearing an opinion that seems so readily accepted by the masses, I withdraw into a little black hole in my mind and quietly think over what is being spoken. Sometimes after forming my own opinion, I find myself in opposition to what is being touted as truth. For example, I happen to believe self esteem is not biblical and will never mention the words to my children. I see no problem with them realizing they are small as long as they realize that the LORD will use them to do mighty things as they follow His ways. If I taught them they were incredible just the way they are, they may never see their need for a Savior. I have wrapped up in a very small nutshell what could be written about in pages of arguments simply for the purpose of example but something else is actually plaguing my mind today.

The topic? Hormones, you know, the raging kind. Our world is full of solutions as to how to cause them to calm down, and maybe some solutions are needed, but sometimes those little rough places in the road can help us remember that we're on a journey following Someone who can be called on at any time. Someone who teaches us if we're willing to endure some tough lessons and handle situations with prayer. Crazy idea, maybe, to stop throughout the day and pray whenever the feelings get so intense we may burst? How can it be crazy, maybe instead it's a blessing that those feelings are allowed as a call to prayer. If we're always so quick to extinguish the difficult times in life, will we remember to call on Him for help in the living? Some of my most desperate prayers were prayed in the anguish of feelings gone awry. A deep fellowship with Him develops when we are constantly grabbing hold of Him in need just to make it through a day. Because at the end of the day, when we have held so tightly to Him in prayer, a days walk is behind us, the regrets are few, and to boot, we have gotten closer to the One who loves us most. We have grown closer through the suffering. There are other solutions, of course, but they don't offer the rewards of closeness with Him.

Psalm 46:1--"GOD is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."

when I woke up Sunday

As a twenty year old in the throes of depression, I cried to the LORD a lot, but there is one prayer that has been replayed in my head for the last several weeks. I had already spoken all the desperate things I could think of in pleading for Him to take away the gloom. I only on one occasion ever did something that others found out about that harmed myself, but by the time I cried this particular prayer to Him, I knew I would not take my life, half out of fear, but half out of really wanting to live. My prayer? Kind of like this, "Lord, I don't want to wake up one day and be forty and look back to see a wasted life". I wanted to live in color, not in the gray haziness of depression.

It was shortly after that, that I learned something very important while reading about depression. A lesson that has stuck with me over the years and has saved me and those around me from much heartache. It's nothing profound just that as believers we must live by our wills not by our feelings, no matter how low they go, and our wills should line up with His will. After I learned that He took the depression from me.

Now, I'm trying to be careful here because I don't want this to be about depression, but about His amazing faithfulness that can be seen when we hold on and wait on Him till we reach a better vantage point to see the road we have traveled. I was so full of excitement waiting the last few weeks for last Sunday to arrive because on that day I woke up and I was forty.

This was a day I had anticipated like no other, not for presents or birthday greetings, but because it was the day I cringed when thinking about twenty years ago, the day I feared for what the twenty years between may contain, but in reality it was the day He already had planned for me back when I was crying to Him in fear that I might be a wasted life. I have not lived a grey hazy life, but a rather colorful one. I have seen the greatness of His faithfulness to one who hasn't always listened, one who has been stubborn, one who has questioned, yet He has remained faithful. He has allowed blessings along with correction both of which amaze me because they speak of His intense love for me.

Looking back at the twenty year old I was, I'm thankful He led me down the detour of darkness. Even though I had given Him my life as a teen, my plans for the future were mine. I had not sought His guidance in the direction for my life. I had planned to rely on achievements to allow me to make my own way in life. I wanted a career to take me away from any memories of childhood. No family, no relationships, no connections. He had other plans. He knew my deepest desires that I couldn't yet recognize. The desire for connections, family... He gave me a painful detour, but it led me to His blessings.

Now in place of the childhood I thought to run from, He gave me five "childhoods" to make beautiful. Not only that, but I now realize that had I not had the childhood He allowed, I would not be the mom that I am.

Jeremiah 29:11 (You know this one, I'm sure!)

harmony

Sometimes early in the morning voices and bodies file into the kitchen. Five bodies besides mine, each with his or her own motives. It is truly cacophony and I find myself in their midst, part of the inharmonious choir of self will.

It is not a beautiful sound, for one will not be happy with the given breakfast, another may dawdle, still another may use grievous words and for a moment I am no help. What am I doing? Sometimes I am thinking about ME. Living in the quiet of my mind where shamefully words like sacrifice, service, and duty have been hushed. They've been replaced with "I wanted to do..." or "Will I ever get to..."

I feel like Jonah-motivated by self-will. I have headed to Tarshish many times myself. And I never made it there either. The One who loves me so much has always allowed a storm to threaten and then had something swallow me up in a protective hold until my heart turns from its selfish desire and gets back on course with His will. Thankfully, I am regurgitated from the hold, and although smelly and not too appealing afterwards, I am free!

So this morning as Tarshish appears enticingly in the peripheral view, I quickly arrest the thoughts that would cause my mind to wander. Once they're imprisoned, I gather that cacophony of voices into a cozy room and we read out loud the Words that bring peace. Writing our thoughts about those Words in journals that are kept bundled together in a special corner of the bookshelf. Peace comes as we share thoughts, discuss the message, and try to help little ones put the message into a picture. He comes and stills us and we learn to harmonize.

Isaiah 26:3--"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee."

the beauty of the sieve

There is beauty in a sieve, a separator, something that filters the unnecessary from the vital. In dealing with children a sieve saves a mama. Exactly how are we supposed to fit everything in that the world says is required for raising children. Maybe that's the enemy's strategy--'convince them there is so much that must be included in this child rearing that they'll agree that it takes a village to raise a child', then Mama and Daddy lose part of their authority status to others who God did not intend to be primary voices of instruction.

Lately, I have found peace in the sifting. In our schooling this year, I have let go of my determination to finish text books and instead chosen to enlighten these sweet skulls with Unit Studies, marinating in one topic for a few weeks, reading everything we can get our hands on about it. For the younger ones...the Middle Ages, complete with knights, kings, queens, and castles. Starting soon for the older two...the history of our Florida county along with a genealogy of their Papa's family to be wrapped up and presented to him at Christmas. We still do math and there are other courses ongoing for the older two, but textbooks do not reign, they serve us only as we need them. As we read out loud, play lots of games, make lap books, and discuss what we've covered, I realize this is what they need most. This has stimulated their minds. This will stick, whereas so much of the textbook work once given priority simply looked good in the portfolio, but wasn't retained.

Today I saw fruits of sifting out pulp and adhering to the necessary. Nine year old, while reading the biography of Martin Luther started his own list of spelling words for next week. Peasant, squire, medieval, several more...all words from his reading. Words he will remember because they meant something to him...because he's read about them and understands their meaning. Any list of spelling words I can give him would never mean so much and probably would not stay with him long. A year and a half ago, he struggled with reading, now after sifting out the pulp that once wasted valuable time for true learning, he is developing a love for learning. A love for learning is my goal for them because that well never runs dry.

The sifting started later in my homeschooling than I wish, but I'm thankful the One who is not limited by His creations of time, space, or matter can take my late start and produce a harvest that will astound. He is their teacher and mine too.

faithfulness in the drought

You are faithful in ways I will never fully understand

Even when I experience a drought, finding myself weak

Ashamed of who I am because I cannot seem to accomplish anything

Speaking words, loose words, empty words that have no real depth,

Because I feel no real depth

Wishing I could avoid people so my lacking would not be seen

Not from embarrassment, for everyone goes through dry times,

but wishing to avoid people because I have nothing to offer them

How can I say such a thing

I do have You that I can offer always,

but I have not filled up with You so it is not You that comes out

It is mindlessness that pours out,

the jumbled stutterings of one who is tired

and has taken equal care of the body

as she has the spirit lately

Yet no matter my condition You stay the same

You remain faithful

Placing people around me in the strangest of places,

people who speak words that I know are prompted by You,

even though they themselves would not recognize it

they would think their words were chosen by them

but I recognize the message in their words

A consistent message shared by the voice on the radio,

the Wal Mart associate,

the book I "just happened" to browse through,

the child speaking innocent words not even well thought out,

all from different sources, one doesn't even know the other,

but they all speak the same message

The one You want me to hear

because You are faithful even when I'm not

Even as I struggle, You remain constant

Never changing, always offering Your words that I need

Sending them through messengers unaware

You are faithful in ways I will never fully understand

II Timothy 2:13--"If we are faithless, He remains faithful; He cannot deny Himself."

senior year

While talking to a friend today, for a brief moment I became overwhelmed with the "demands" of this senior year for our big guy. My friend described the costs involved with making this a memorable year for her son. The pictures, the ring, the senior trip, yearbook... Then there's the graduation ceremony. She mentioned so many things that for that moment I shrunk thinking how am I going to get all of this done?!

That's when I had to remind myself that just as we've never tried to mimic the public school system for their education, we won't copy them for this special year either. There are a few similar things we will do, like pictures and maybe even a ring. But the homeschooling life is so different. It has been centered around shaping their character and teaching them to focus first on Him and He will lead them.

It's tempting, even in homeschool groups, to get caught up in following the standards set by society. But some of my favorite sources of encouragement come from homeschoolers who remind others (while reminding themselves!) that education wears a different face for each homeschooling family. In homeschooling, not every child will read fluently by the age of 5 or take Algebra when they're in 8th grade or perform well on the A.C.T. Homeschooling's great benefit is that it does not concentrate only on scholastics, but searches for how each child is brilliant. They are all brilliant in some way, perfectly suited for some great calling from Him. So I'm looking forward to making this year special for our big guy. I'm not sure exactly what it will include, but I don't plan on allowing a lot of stress. So it will be simple because I want to enjoy this last year I have the privilege to sew into his mind.

As he's becoming the man God shapes him to be, I want him to concentrate not on what field of study or work he'd like to look into, but I want him to prayerfully consider exactly what the Lord may be leading him to do. I am so thankful to have him with me everyday and I will probably shed tears the day we celebrate his graduation with friends and family without the cap and gown and no walk in front of hundreds, but knowledge implanted in his brain and hard work behind him and in front of him. It will be a special day.

Here are a couple of great links about the individualized learning that takes place in the homeschooling environment: http://intent.squarespace.com/ and http://fimby.tougas.net/homeschool-insecurities-and-goals

maybe I should practice staying quiet again

Exodus 4:10--"...O my Lord, I am not eloquent, neither heretofore, nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant; but I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue."

I have a tendency to get uncomfortable in any type of social situation and with any type of discomfort comes a nervous tongue. A nervous tongue that sometimes says the most absurd things just because I don't know how to handle the unsettling pause in a conversation. Actually, I don't know how to handle most conversations at all.

Now, please, don't take this as complaining about my upbringing, because I've come to appreciate my younger days, knowing that the LORD had plans for me that required me to go through some tough times early on, but as a youngster, I was basically taught to stay quiet and stay out of every one's way. I suppose once taught this for the first several years of life, I just kept doing that out of habit. I cringe in social circles and avoid them if at all possible. I can speak to people one on one or even in a small group if sharing information that needs to be shared, but any kind of social event or idle chit chat leaves me with that nervous tongue, wishing I could run away. I tend to say ridiculous things.

As a matter of fact, that's why I'm writing this tonight because it happened again. I'm not sharing what I said this time, but it was totally inappropriate at best and possibly even offensive at worst. I will give an example of a nervous tongue moment I had once though. At a church we once attended, during the offering, a lady who knew I was expecting asked "boy or girl?" I told her it was a boy and she asked about his name. I told her we were planning on naming him Henry, then came the unsettling pause. Not knowing how to end the conversation I just said "Well, at least he'll have Common Sense." Yes, I'm aware of the fact that this makes no sense whatsoever, in fact to understand what pours from my lips sometimes one would need to be inside my head. At the time what was inside my head was our American History lesson in homeschooling and I was thinking about the pamphlet "Common Sense" which I was connecting to Patrick Henry, who didn't even write it (I had him mixed up with Thomas Paine at the time). Now this woman would never have known what was in my head and that explains the odd look I received from her. I tried to stay away from her after that realizing how difficult it must be for the victims of my odd mangled words.

I feel so terrible for the people who have to deal with me sometimes. It might be better for them if I walked around with a miniature dry erase board and wrote down my responses to comments. I think my words through better in the writing process.

I am hopeful that He will find a way to use me in spite of my tongue. I'm sure next time if I just talk to Him in those uncomfortable moments, then He will either tell me something I should say or maybe help my nervous tongue lie still.

Exodus 4:12--"Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say."

walking from the altar

Sometimes in my heart I grudgingly carry my offering to Your altar
Not wanting to part with my "gift" to You
You love a cheerful giver, should I not give my offering
if it is not given with joy

It is an offering that should be placed at Your feet
I cannot keep it, it distracts
But it is precious to me

a desire that may exist only for one reason

simply for me to be willing to give it up

"present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,

which is your reasonable service."

my reasonable service

a holy sacrifice

giving even that which is most precious

I cry as I approach slowly

the offering-in arms that do not want to part with it

inward cries of 'but it is the one thing I truly want'

more of Your words whisper in my ear

"...but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it."

my mind roams to the man who approached you wanting

to know what more he had to do

for he followed all the commandments

"sell everything, give it to the poor and follow Me"

it was too great a price

and he walked away in sorrow

I want to be willing, but...

I see that man in me

I cringe because my sacrifice, my offering,

my reasonable service is laid at Your feet with clinched fists still holding on to it

had I let it go earlier before I allowed it to find home in my heart

maybe there would be no pain

the pain is evidence of strong attachment

unhealthy attachment

anything held so tightly should be released

and it is, along with many tears

my want laid at Your feet

and I ask for Your grace again

because I do not give it with cheer

I give it because it is something that must be parted with

if I will serve You fully

my offering in exchange for the hope You offer

my want that cannot satisfy in exchange for Your promise that never fails

I can leave the altar with empty arms only when I choose to trust You

is there a place for them

Sunday evening I visited the jail again with another lady, Tammy. We go to have church in an odd shaped, very cold room with any of the women who want to participate.

We arrange the chairs so that the atmosphere is very casual, no podium, just chairs in a circle. Misfits reaching out to misfits. Those who have found a hope trying to share it with those desperate for it.

Jail is where I experience the greatest church services. It is always real in that room. No one is concerned about appearance. No fake smiles. No cliques. Social status does not exist where everyone is dressed alike. With all masks removed, we're free to have church. We ask Him to show up and He does. I sometimes don't even know how to begin. But He equips us with the one thing we need, the Truth.

This past Sunday four women came. They are usually pretty desperate for a change. And just like the parable of the seed that Jesus spoke of, they all take the message differently. Some of them take the words that are spoken just for a short season and then let them go. Some of them don't seem to listen at all, they just want to get out of the living quarters for a while. Some of them want to change, but they are so trapped in bondage to lifestyles and friends who influence them that they go back to their old ways. But every once in a while, someones heart opens and they see their desperate need for a Savior and they long for Him. They see the hope in Him and that is what they run to. This happened last Sunday. The same woman I've seen a few times over the last couple of years...before when the seed of His Word was shared, she was not interested and other times she seemed to not understand. But this night, when confronted with the the message, she realized she needed to know for certain that she was one of His own.

Now everyone knows about jailhouse religion and I think I've actually seen it demonstrated myself. In a courtroom, when someone walks before the judge and proclaims they have started fresh and are now attending church, but I know they've gone back to their old ways. They just think the church word and starting fresh may sound convincing enough to gain some leniency. Thankfully both of the judges I've listened to, pay no heed to that. But sometimes there are those who sincerely seek the Truth and they want to walk with Him. What do they do when they get out of jail?

I have asked this quietly to myself and in prayer over the last couple of years, never pleased with the answer. We invite them to come to church always. Most of them who come only come once and don't return. When I compare and contrast the jail church services with the church on the outside, I think I understand their hesitancy. Is there really a place for them? They are broken, scarred misfits who walk into a foyer where there are no sections for misfits or into a Sunday School class with no section for the broken. I am a broken, scarred misfit myself, but I do not even know how to show them that when I am at church. I have no problem sharing that with them in that odd shaped room in the jail, but at church even I find it hard to be vulnerable enough to let people see the real me...the me who is broken and scarred and certainly does not fit well in many crowds. Instead I find myself struggling to find a spot and opting shamefully for withdrawing quietly into my own well chosen area where I feel safe. How will I reach out to them when they come if I'm not even sure I belong sometimes? I think there are many people in church like that. I know it causes me to appear uncaring and self-absorbed. The ladies in jail interpret it as judgemental and hypocritical. That's why they say they don't want to come. How do we tear down those kind of walls that so many church members, like me, are responsible for putting up?

Their desire to come to church is very real sometimes, but in a church they are seeking a safe place...a house of mercy. A place of acceptance. They have little to offer. They need more than they can give to begin with. They are babies in Christ and probably not ready to serve in many capacities when they first come. We reach out to minister to them, but do we really want them to come and be part of our congregation, can we learn how to open our arms and pull them in? I do not find myself courageous enough to know I can do this. I would love to go to church every Sunday in that odd shaped room. Very little is hidden there. Words are spoken freely. Scars are displayed with no shame because we all have them. Struggles are talked about because each one faces them. People are not afraid to be vulnerable because they know they are accepted. I do not experience freedom of that sort anywhere outside those jail walls and it leaves me wondering if I am mature enough in Him to even be ministering there.

For any one of you who periodically stop by this little blog, please take any time you would usually use to comment and pray for those women in jail. There really are some who want to follow the One who offers truth and life, but they find it so difficult to fit in the church.

a television lurking in the waterfall

Isaiah 30:15--"...in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength..."

My quiet place of yesterday was overtaken by a noisemaker today. Yesterday as I sat in a quiet area enjoying the peaceful beauty of a waterfall fountain, I had no idea what was hidden in that fountain. Would you believe there's a television hiding in the waterfall? Yes, there is. Fortunately yesterday, when I enjoyed the peacefulness of that spot the television wasn't working, but apparently it has been fixed.

It's kind of like a lurking enemy infiltrating the space that seems safe. So now I sit in my comfy hotel room with a view of an orange grove which is peaceful. I know television isn't the enemy, but we've been weaned off television for several months now. For years, we had considered throwing out our television, but honestly the lure of the great deal we had on DirecTV kept us from doing it. I mean, we only paid about twelve dollars a month for our service (we've had friends try to get the same deal all to be told they don't do that, but when we called to cancel our service once, we were told if we stayed with them we could get just the family pack, that's the story of our great deal). We held on to t.v. because of the "great deal" knowing once we let it go we couldn't get it back. Looking back, we think why did we even care about that.

We had a strong conviction about what we allowed our kids to see, but just having the t.v. on sometimes invited the enemy's lures right into our living room. After seeing our oldest turn his head when certain commercials would come on, commercials that lure young men, just commercials...the kids weren't even allowed to watch shows that contained overtly inappropriate material...this was just commercials. Our own son showed us what was really happening by keeping that media box in our home. We were teaching them His way and telling them His Words, but then we opened the door to the enemy, allowing him to openly throw lures in the very quiet spot of our space together. So out went the television. I'm so thankful for those around us who had modeled this for us, seeing the leadership of others makes it a little easier to take the plunge.

We took the plunge in the midst of season finales. Some shows we had allowed in our home were interrupted by us using our t.v. for target shooting with husband's friend one day. Hearing and seeing the glass explode and the smoke was pretty cool for the little guys although there was one in the house who was unhappy knowing she would not see the next American Idol cheered on t.v. (Yes, we had allowed that show.) But we set out to fill the void, having learned that we always offer something positive to fill a space when we remove something from their lives. Life without the noisemaker? Hmmm....we spend more time talking about everything...we learned how to communicate with people we had lost contact with...we started studying Scriptures together as a family more...we've played more with each other...a couple of us have started blogs to share about Him...we've prayed together more...we've all read and written more...the best thing has probably been the forced quiet. The forced quiet would be the times whereas before when Dad or I were alone and might turn on the t.v. just for the noise or company, now we can't and we are left with quiet. Quiet can be unsettling until you learn what to do with it. When there is no distract-er in the house, we find ourselves reaching for more of His Words while we sit in the cozy chair or turning on the praise till it can be heard throughout the house. Or just meditating on Words studied in the past, ruminating, then slipping into a conversation with Him about what He wants us to learn.

We were never addicts. We monitored the watching. Even when we had one, we still spent time together. But it's absence is glorious. Even as football season starts and my fellas sometimes disappear next door to catch a glimpse of a touchdown or two, I don't want it back. A lot has happened for our family since we let the t.v. go. Preach and I have both come to a greater understanding of just how short our lives are here. We don't want to waste the little time we have. Our children have only a little time too and we want them to learn to fill their time with what's profitable for Him.

Struggles have come too. The enemy throws lures in new directions when his other source has been turned off. He's desperate, but God is almighty and has no equal foe so I cling to my Source Who keeps me.

Isaiah 32:18--"And my people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places."

chamomile tea and river of delights

Psalm 1:3--"And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper."

I'm being spoiled today.

My husband is one of the hardest working men I've ever known. I've been so thankful for his work ethic over the years. His dedication has kept him from being unemployed even once when the company he was working for went out of business. Others from other companies knew him from his work and hired him immediately to work for them. He's been blessed, but blessed because he's remained steadfast in faith and work. He's taught that same work ethic to our kids. He reminds me of "a tree planted by the rivers of water", stable and fruitful. Many people give me far too much credit for good things they see in our kids. We are definitely a team in the effort. Preach is the rock of the family keeping things stable while I'm more like the fluttering butterfly bringing fun and life into the picture (although lately I'm not sure I've been up to par on my end!).

Back to my being spoiled. His work has him out of town much of the time, but if he works within two hours of home he drives back and forth every day. Recently, he's been working about two and a half hours away. Usually that means the hotel for him and us doing without him till Friday night, but when the "fluttering butterfly" wife went into a nosedive recently, really needing her "rock" man around, this man started driving back and forth from the job everyday. That's five hours driving each day, not even counting the hours he spends driving everyday from one job site to another. He's a special kind of rock, diamond quality. Now my spoiling is happening because this week he is staying away in the hotel, but he invited me to come.

I split the children up between both sets of grandparents, well, the oldest is in Honduras. So here I am at a very nice hotel, nicer than where he usually stays (he did that for me!). Right now, sitting in a very peaceful dining area with a large waterfall fountain, I've just been thinking about Psalm 36:8, "...thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy pleasures." It's 9:30A.M. and I'm sipping chamomile tea, indulging in some much needed Scripture reading, and if the chamomile relaxes me too much, I can take a nap. Yes, this setting is temporary and tomorrow I head back home and gather up my sweet arrows up. Then when we wake up Thursday, by 9:30 in the morning I'll have answered tens of questions from little ones, changed diapers, made some breakfast, cleaned dishes, started school and juggled whatever else comes. His river of pleasures follow me wherever I go. I get them at home with those precious ones, I get them on a special trip away with "rock solid" man. Even when I have my most desperate moments, thinking I don't have strength to continue, I look around me and if I really open my eyes, I see his blessings and I cannot deny them because they're there.

Psalm 36:9--"For with thee is the fountain of life..."

they're all His words

I'm so thankful those whose hands penned God's Word were men with faults. Not that I glory in the faults of others, but knowing those who wrote those words struggled gives me comfort as I walk through my own struggles.

We are taking one Psalm at a time right now, writing our thoughts about them in our journals. As we write, it's been a good time to point out to the kids a pattern we see in many of the psalms of David. He begins some of his passages questioning God. I heard a teacher who gave a quizzical look and spoke of these questions as though David was wrong for such. Sometimes I speak up, but that day I stayed quiet. (I don't like to feel like I'm correcting someone who's supposed to be teaching me.) But those places where David agonizes with questions are precious to me because they are Scripture and they too are the inspired words of God. I appreciate so much the writing style of the shepherd boy made king. I do not write anything quite so beautiful, but when I find a scrap of paper and pen, I often write with questions to Him first, too. My heart many times being heavy and seeking comfort from Him...so out it spills onto whatever paper I find and something happens in the writing. Comfort, memories of faithfulness, truth healing the brokenness, something happens so that by the end the message is the same. The same as the conclusion David reaches...but You are faithful God and You make the way for Yours and all will be okay as I stay under Your shadow. I'm thankful those are His inspired words. It gives me hope that my questions and struggles are to be expected as long as my conclusion matches his.

Psalm 13
How long wilt thou forget me, O LORD? for ever? how long wilt thou hide thy face from me?
How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily? how long shall mine enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and hear me, O LORD my God: lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death;
Lest mine enemy say, I have prevailed against him; and those that trouble me rejoice when I am moved.
But I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.
I will sing unto the LORD, because he hath dealt bountifully with me.

of wearing scarlet letters

John 8:32--"...the truth shall make you free."

It has been one of my favorite books since I first immersed myself fully into the lives of its characters...Hester Prynne-the openly shamed, the "thought" to be upright man-her companion in sin, Pearl-the feisty child born as a result.

She wore a scarlet letter for all to see, a sign to all of her most secret sin. Evidence of his sin, though seen as her belly would swell with child, was never worn by him. She carried the guilt and the child. He lived well respected by all, but tortured inside. She told no one the identity of her beloved Pearl's father.

She was jailed, rebuked, cast out, spoken about, shamed publicly and through it all she found freedom. After all, once they did all that to her, what else could they do? When there was no more pressure to perform tasks, fulfill expected duties, show up at the observances set by man...when all of that pressure to perform was gone, for she could no longer impress anyone, then she found that she could just be. She could finally be who she was supposed to be. Though she wore that scarlet letter, people found her anytime there was a need. They soon learned that this woman donning the letter A was the one they could call when there was sickness or tragedy. She showed up because that was who she was. The letter was just a mark showing she committed a sin. She wore it past the time they would have made her. She was not afraid of it or shamed by it anymore. She knew everyone else had one too...they just didn't display them. What freedom is found in the exposure...in the acknowledgement of human frailty!

Then there was the man. Sad, heavy laden man. He longed for the freedom, but knew in the telling so many would be let down. Certainly they would turn from God if they knew about his great trespass. So it lay hidden, for years, even as the child he fathered grew before his eyes. Him not being able to call her his own because of fear...fear of the people. His scarlet letter was there too. It was just hidden...there is no freedom when it's hidden, just burden.

I want to wear all my scarlet letters!! I love the freedom in exposure. Exposure of what is already known..."for all have sinned and fallen short". I'm sure maybe Nathaniel Hawthorne may not have intended his book to have such meaning as I take from it, but that is the beauty of a story, there can be found even more than author intends. He may have even meant it as defiance against the church at the time. But the story reveals a truth in the Christian life--there is freedom in confession and burden in concealment. Once we shed the need to maintain "our" reputations, we are free to walk under His...His reputation of grace.

Matthew 11:28-30--"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."