Splash the Puddles

I'm reminded today of how God attends to the seemingly small details of our lives.  He so cares about the desires of our heart.  He is so eager to show us just how much he cares, we need only ask. This morning in the shower, I prayed a simple prayer for reassurance in a particular area.  I don't remember the exact words I spoke to the Lord, but it went something like this.  "God, I just need a little something, a little extra reassurance in this area today.  And if you don't want me to have that, then please just help me to move on, and to find You enough to fill all the areas of my heart-this one in particular.  Just tend to my heart in this area today, so that you receive glory."  This was around 7:45 this morning.  Before 10:00, I had my reassurance.  It came in the simple form of a text message.  An unknowing person, who responded to what they probably didn't even know was a prompting from the Holy Spirit, who was at work, behind the scenes, attending

"Lord help me to pray..." Those words I uttered just a week or so ago, an attempt to reacquaint myself with a blessing of being a follower of Jesus that I so love.  Prayer. I believe in the power of prayer because I've seen God work as a result of it.  I've seen Him move mountains and make the impossible happen.  I've seen Him heal, restore, provide and close doors through prayer.  I've seen Him bring my faith and the faith of others to life, as a result of honest and unrestrained conversation with Him. I also believe in the importance and necessity of Christians praying to bring glory to the Lord.  I've felt a disconnect lately, and I realized recently that at some point I'd begun to pray less.  Sure, I still had my scheduled prayer times.  Mealtimes, bedtimes, church times, frustrated times, fearful times.  But, somewhere along the way, and I'm not even sure when, my habit of constantly conversing with Him all throughout my day about this a

This time last year, I was not winning any mother of the year awards for sure.  I think it's safe to say that I had simply "lost" myself in motherhood. The joy of raising two little ones was replaced by the drowning feeling of just not having anything left-not being enough.  My patience resevoir had been exhausted. Their usual childhood antics were too much for me. I was explosive on a small scale, over reactive, quick to condemn and far, far from the mother I wanted to be. And sadly, I camped out there for around three months-much too long. When I spoke to my closest friends about my children, only negative comments came from my mouth. I could hear myself and hear the ugly and was so, so saddened by it. But I was overwhelmed and stretched and they were a safe place for me. I remember asking a very close friend who wasn't a mommy if her other close friend ever griped about her children the way I did.  Her honest answer stung-"no, not really." I think it was

I've been contemplating lately, what I really want for my children.  There are many things I want for them.  I want them to one day marry beautiful, godly women who adore them. I want them to do well in school and have a positive reputation.  I want them to be well recognized for good manners.  I want them to appreciate playing outside and using their imagination.  I want them to be kind and loving toward others.  I want them to be respectful to adults always.  I want them to appreciate the things they have and understand how blessed they are.  I want them to meet, early on, friends who will stand by their side through their lifetime.  There are many things I want for them. But one thing overshadows them all, and honestly I believe this one thing will dictate all the others in some form or fashion.  What do I want for my children?  I want them to understand early in life the love that God has for them. I want them to know that nothing they do can make him love them any more than he

Lord, Today I give you my boys-I surrender to you, my own expectations of who they should be and I ask you to use them mightily. Lord, I pray they would be young men who love and honor you-young men who stand apart on their own choosing, because they love you.  Wipe away my expectations of perfection, the limitations I subtly assign them, and help me to gracefully parent them, embracing their weaknesses as opportunities to love deeper and point them to you.  Lord fill any gaps, and empty places in there life and keep them humble. Grow in them a compassion and generosity towards others. Help them to give sacrificially and love unconditionally.  Teach them to find themselves only in You.  My prayer for Walker and Will, Lord, is that their life would be filled with a purpose-a fully engaged relationship with you. Lord don't allow them to be distracted by a "religion" with standards, rules and expectations but rather 100% committed to and aware of your grace, mercy and love. 

Next week our school will observe Red Ribbon week.  We will celebrate giving drugs "the boot" and raise awareness as we promote a life lived drug free. It's a wonderful program-I fully support it. It's a fun week, lots of opportunities to come to school dressed as you usually would not-camo day, team sports day, etc. There are poster contests, t-shirt designing contests, parent involvement activities and more.  That being said, there's a huge part of me that is not looking forward to next week. This year, at the innocent age of six, my oldest son will learn the word "drugs."  He will know after next week that a substance exists that can alter your mind and body in a terrible way. He will have a little more awareness of the darkness of this world. And while I know I cannot shelter him from things of the world forever, my heart longs to fight for and protect his innocence as long as I possibly can. He is, after all, my baby.  Drug awareness is important. S

I love taking pictures. It's a hobby I'm really no good at, and don't really care to be-I just genuinely love capturing memories in a 4 by 6 rectangle I can have forever.  Truthfully, I haven't printed pictures since I printed the ones from Will's arrival day and the few days that followed, with the exception of ones Walker has needed for projects here and there.  The pictures in our home are dated-most from when we were only a family of three.  Despite this, I love a good photograph. Or a bad one-doesn't matter to me. What I love is the memory it holds.  At times, I'm lovingly picked on by my family and closest friends for whipping my iPhone out to capture everyday moments. And let's face it, I'm  probably also made fun of by some Facebook followers who don't really care to see how high my boys can climb. But you know what?  I truly don't care. I know a moment I want to hold in my heart forever when I see one.  My grandmother cherished pictu

I caught a glimpse of His glory recently.  I was on the treadmill, nothing particular on my mind-just enjoying the feeling of doing something healthy for myself, when I had a flashback. A flashback of a year or two ago, to a time when I really didn't like myself very much and there was a good bit of "ugly" in my heart. A time where my actions, words, thoughts, feelings and emotions were driven mostly be insecurity. A time when I sought human approval and acceptance above the unconditional and freely given love, grace and acceptance of my Savior.  Scripture tells us, that "a good man brings out good things from the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings out evil things from the evil stored in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of." Around a year ago, I began to do a bit of inventory in my own life, a heart check, we can call it. I knew there were some evil things lurking in my heart-some unforgiveness that was crippling me, some r

We were driving down the road the other day on our way to CFA for our school's spirit night, and we were chatting about our day. Things got quiet at a red light, and then Walker said, "Mommy, some of my friends won't listen to me when I tell them about Jesus."   He sounded so sad.  I asked him what he meant and he said, "They won't listen to me about Jesus. They think when you die alls that happens is you turn into a skeleton." I would love to be a fly on the playground (where I assume these conversations take place) when he talks to his friends about Jesus.  I can't help but wonder what he says. I know he understands the need for salvation, and it thrills my soul that he love his friends so much that he tells them about Jesus too.  I talked to him, the best I could with him being five, about how the Bible is clear that the Christian life will be difficult. That he has chosen to live his life in a way that at times won't be "popular" am

The list was long.  Wash all the laundry. Take a load to Goodwill. Clean out my closet. Put some tubs of baby clothes in the attic. Repair the rotting cabinets under the sink. Finish filling out paper work from identity theft. Switch cable companies to one with channels more suitable for the boys. (And  NFL Sunday ticket).  Write out a plan for implementing five small healthy/snack meals for next week so I can begin to unpack all I've packed on. Make the menu for next week and grocery shop.  The list was long. The list is still long.  Those were the ideas I tossed around in my head of what could be accomplished this weekend, but none of them were. And I am so glad.  Instead, an afternoon nap and a fun Friday night with some of our best friends and all the kiddos, which included the perfect laughter of a one year old beauty and a two year old charmer, who chased one another round and round. Laughter I wanted to bottle up and release an ounce at a time the next time I had a day like

It's been on my mind today, this paragraph I wrote in my blog post last night... " Taking the Lord's name in vain is not something that comes natural to me. It's just not something I practice.  Some may read this and think I'm being ridiculous-"it's just an expression, a saying" they may argue. I disagree." It's not often I publish before being fully confident I have said what I intended to say, and last night wasn't an exception necessarily...this is just a follow up. My thoughts were moving faster than my fingers (which I am convinced are affected by carpal tunnel) and I didn't finish my point.  When I say it isn't a struggle, I don't mean I never use the term. I also don't mean I never have typed OMG in a text. I surely have. Just today, in my classroom, I caught myself utter "Lord..." under my breath in frustration at someone not listening to me. When I say it's not a struggle, I mean it doesn't consu

Recently my five year old son overheard an adult he doesn't know say "Oh my God" multiple times in a row in reaction to something going on.  This bothered him. A lot. With confusion and brokenheartedness all over his face, he walked over to me in a soft voice and said "Mommy, that lady keeps saying Oh my God." He had tears in his eyes.  I should mention that we have talked to Walker about why we don't use the Lord's name in vain, and what that means. But the conversations haven't been lengthy, and it hasn't been an issue in our home or family. He hasn't been in trouble or chided by anyone about such usage.  I can't shake the image of his expression when he came to me. A small child, a new member of the family of God. Someone who has just recently recognized his need for a Savior and responded to God's calling to accept Him as his Savior and Lord. Heartbroken over three words uttered from the mouth of a stranger. Words that affected hi

Kindergarten. It hit me like a ton of bricks tonight. My baby, my precious firstborn, the little person who first made me a mommy, is going to kindergarten.  I'm trying to figure out how this happened. Weren't the nurses and midwife just screaming orders for an emergency c-section STAT and kicking all our friends and family out of our hospital room?  Wasn't it just moments ago, I was pleading with God, begging Him not to take my child when his heart rate wouldn't come up? Wasn't I just laying on that operating table, so out if it, I couldn't remember what we named him, gazing at his adorable face and trying to make sense of all that had just happened?  Weren't we just holding him a few days old in the wee hours of the night, as we stood in amazement that he was ours?  Didn't I just watch him roll over, crawl, and take his first steps? Didn't we just move him from his crib to a big boy bed? Didn't we just send him off to two year preschool?  And t

We all want (and need) that one person who can sympathize with us and whatever we may be going through. I know I find so much comfort in knowing that I am not the only one who's been "there."   When I'm struggling in my parenting, I find so much resolve in conversing with other moms of boys. When I've had a difficult day with my students, I lean on one of my teacher friends. When my weary emotional self feels insecure, I turn to special friends who know me inside and out and also struggle with their own insecurities to remind me where my security lies. And that I'm not alone in my struggle. When Walker is covered head to toe in hives and I've had it up to "here" with unidentified triggers, it's helpful to talk to someone else who's dealt with the frustration.  When a lizard jumps off the table  directly at you while you are peacefully sunbathing at the beach, causing you to hop up and run faster than you ever have before, all the while sc

Our family has very recently been the victim of theft. Again. This time it's a little different than when our van was stolen from our driveway. This time, our privacy was invaded on a much more personal level. This time, the hands of thieves touched clothes hanging in my closet, socks and underwear tucked away in our drawers. Their hands touched a precious gift someone gave us that has photos of my children on it, in order to take something plugged in behind it.  Their fingerprints are all over our home and could very easily be on our hearts if we allowed it.  Thankfully none of us were home, and we are all safe. All glory to God for that most important detail.  When something like this happens to you, especially twice, I think it could be easy to harbor bitterness and live in fear. And if I am being honest, both times this has occurred, those two things were my initial reaction.   However, bitterness and fear bring darkness and anger and those two things have no place in our life

You know, there are moments right after I push publish on a post when my whole body cringes and I wonder why in the world I just bared my soul to the world. Why in sam's name did I feel the need to share all that?  Why?  What if it's misunderstood? What if it gets on someone's nerves? What if people are sick of hearing about mud puddles? Or most recently last night, WHAT if someone thinks my marriage is in trouble, when it isn't, because I shared a "season" we are in where it seems more difficult than before to find one on one time together?!?  What IF??? There are those moments when no immediate feedback comes my way, and I ponder why in the world I subjected myself to the wonderment of whether or not readers think I'm crazy. Insecure. Delusional. Needy. Wordy. Irrational. (In truth, at times, I can be all of those things...) -side note: I don't do this for feedback. That's my insecure side shining through.  Then it happens.  Someone comes to me p

You ever feel like your life isn't how it's supposed to be?   Just take that in for a minute.  Right now, I feel that way. I'm laying in the bed beside my boys. Together, Cliff and I have worked in this house a good portion of the day.  It's a wreck. And honestly, there isn't much to show for all our hard work today.  Every time we turned around, one of them was pulling out something we had just cleaned up, or creating a new mess for us. I'm not talking a few toys strewed on the floor. That, I can handle. I'm talking mess. The kind I am beginning to believe only my boys can create.  The kind that seems to encompass me. At times it seemed they were doing it on purpose. Maybe they were. But I'm sure they weren't. They were just being kids. And they both helped a good bit today also.  We've had a good day. Don't get me wrong. We've all been together. iPhones have been put aside. We've laughed and had fun. It's just... I'm tired.

No one (in their right mind, anyway) really enjoys revisiting past hurts. That makes sense. The rainbow of healing that shines after the pain of a storm in your life leaves you ready to move forward, with a smile on your face and a broken heart mended. That's how it should be. Or so I thought. And still do think. Though recently I have been challenged to revisit a hard place. A time of heartbreak, confusion, anger and darkness for me...a very painful place I resided in the midst of a very exciting and joyful time in my life. I haven't shared on my blog about this storm. In fact, with the exception of my husband and the very few people I let in during this time, no one really knows the extent of what I experienced. Though I am far removed from it , the memories of the feelings I experienced during this time of my life still hurt. Deeply. And most of the time, I simply cannot let my memory go back there. I can't allow my thoughts to wander to some of the things I thought

I love when God continues to bring a portion of scripture to my attention frequently over a span of time. There are a few scriptures that He just keeps showing me through my time with Him in His Word, through conversations with friends and family, through prayer and at church lately. I've shared before, that I have a burden to help. I want to be a helpful person, and be remembered as someone who went above and beyond to step up to the call to serve. So many times, I feel I fail at that. The desire is there, but the ability to follow through isn't always. There are so many people in my life who help me so much on a daily basis. I want to be that person. I want to help. Instead I often find myself unable to help, unable to serve, because I am tied down to my two young children who very much need me for almost everything. A few days ago, I decided to meet a few people at my church and stuff baggies for a local race where some members of our church would be handing out snack

It's been one of those days. Shoot, it's been one of those weeks. The kind that makes you long for your blissfully quiet and peaceful days of marriage before you had kids... If you are a mom, you know the kind I am talking about. Unless of course, you are one of those moms who pretends you never have days...or weeks like that. In that case, shame on you :) for giving future mothers everywhere the idea that everyday is a picnic and that motherhood is all smiles and sunshine. It's not. And by the way, I am thankful none of my close friends are those kinds of moms. It's a special gift God gave me, having a couple of close girlfriends who also have days and weeks like I have and are willing to be open and honest with me about it, how they feel and that the harder days are probably still yet to come from me. Who also know that no matter what is felt and expressed during frustration, that we love our kids more than anything ever in all the world. Being a mother is by far

March, due to a couple of unforeseen events and expenses, was turning out to be very tight for us.   We’d recently paid two different expenses, both right around $200 each, totaling around $400.    Two hundred of it was money we hadn’t planned as an expense and therefore wasn’t written into our budget.   Then there was the $200 check that we had written to Walker’s preschool the day, maybe two days, before we moved him to my school. (another God story, so see the post below!)   Now, I have no problem giving that preschool my money.   They have been wonderful to us and for Walker, and we truly believe in their cause.   However, there are times when we could really use the extra $200 that we paid for a month of school he wouldn’t attend there, and now is one of those times! Cliff and I are currently doing a 40 day prayer challenge.   We are reading through a book called “Draw the Circle,” and we are learning so much about growing our faith through prayer.   We are learning to pray bold