Splash the Puddles

Some mornings, Will wakes up as a baby dinosaur.  Sometimes a pterodactyl, but usually a baby T-Rex.  This morning, he had a hard time waking up and stepping into the shower.  So, I encouraged him with a little mommy T-Rex nudge.  I whispered to him, "Wake up, little T-Rex and hurry into the shower before the raptors attack us..."  (I was desperate to not be late to work again, y'all...) It worked. Wide eyed and well aware of my dinosaur ignorance he confidently replied, "But we are bigger and more powerful than they are, mommy T-Rex.  They can't hurt us..." By then he was awake and cold, so into the warm shower he hopped, not phased by the threat of a raptor attack. My boy knows his dinosaurs, and whether it is true or not that a raptor could not hurt a T-Rex is beyond me.  I honestly have no clue. I've seen a Jurassic movie or two.  I'm sure they could leave a scratch, maybe draw some blood, even temporarily weaken a T-Rex with cunning st...

Our little Will has struggled with fear for as long as he has been able to recognize the concept. It seems he’s always had a thing. Fearing Mommy not coming back, afraid of going potty, afraid of going into rooms alone, fear of being left behind, and most recently a debilitating fear of weather. When I say debilitating, I’m not exaggerating. At the beginning of the school year, he’d come out to the playground during our shared recess time and he’d stand right beside me. When I went inside, he’d move to his teacher’s side. The only way he’d go play and enjoy his friends was if the sky was perfectly blue without a cloud in sight. He was terrified of the possibility of what could be, even when there was no justifiable reason to feel afraid. When it actually would storm, a new form of terror would come over him, and it was all-consuming.  I have prayed over him daily. Nightly. And in between. 1 Peter 5:7 was my banner over his life. I begged God to release him from the grips of fear...

I like words. I mean, I REALLY like words. I think there is such beauty in both written and spoken language. If you open safari on my phone, you’ll likely find an online dictionary open in the first tab, if Amazon Prime hasn’t claimed its spot that particular day. (I also love Amazon Prime).  I look up definitions all the time. Ask anyone who knows me better than most. I’m obsessed.  I write words. I speak words. I teach words. These days I even hang words...ALL OVER MY HOUSE! (My best friend and I have admitted we have a problem with this. We have a pact: no more words on the wall. Then Hobby Lobby and Southern With Grace happen. Words, words, words).  They just call out to me. They speak to me. They give me expression. I love word meaning.  At the beginning of each year, I ask the Lord to give me, you guessed it, words . Words for the year, words He wants me to hear. Words he wants me to live. Last year he gave me one word. Peace. This year, like on the interior w...

Last night when we got home, Will was pogoing in the house. (We’ve allowed this because it’s so cold and also he’s obsessed and he’s being active. It helps that we are on a concrete slab.) I was in the bathroom, but apparently Cliff told him to stop and get ready for bed, and it took him another few hops before he actually stopped. He stopped by accidentally landing on one of my new wall decor pieces from Southern with Grace. (Gasp). It broke.  Hasn’t even been hung yet. Have I mentioned that’s pretty much my favorite home decor provider? I knew none of this because I’m still in bathroom. (Maybe hiding for a little peace and quiet. I’ll never tell). I heard him start crying loudly, but figured he’d gotten in trouble about not listening or something and didn’t think much of it. Anyway-when I finally came out of the bathroom he was sitting on my bed crying pitifully. I smiled at him and patted his head, but I didn’t really coddle him or anything because I didn’t want to undo any dis...

Recently,  I read an article about how soldiers prepare for war in the desert. I was intrigued by the necessity of intense preparation for a battle of this nature. Being completely ripped out of the environment they are comfortable in and throw into unfamiliar territory with drastically different living conditions and survival means, requires steadfast determination and devotion to their training program. Learning to conceal themselves in desert environment, becoming undetectable to their enemy, training with endurance to clothe themselves in garments that protect them from war elements, but cause great discomfort due to the heat and climate in the desert are only a small portion of the lengths they go to in preparation of what’s to come. Learning to fire weapons in the hottest part of the day in order to become accustom to “heat haze” and migraines, familiarizing themselves with the enemy’s attack strategies. Learning what motivates and how their foe operates, gives them a clearer...

About two months ago, we moved into our new home. One of the biggest and most unexpected blessings about that, has been having neighbors with children our boys' ages. No stress of prearranged play dates or meeting places, the front yard will do just fine. We get home earlier than the neighbors, and each day, without fail, one and usually both of my boys eagerly await their homecoming. Typically, the anticipation of their arrival begins from the moment we pull into our driveway, which is usually a good two and a half, sometimes three hours before the neighbor family comes home. (Praise Jesus for teacher hours!). "When will the neighbors be home?"  If I had a dime for every time I've heard that since mid-August, I could seriously retire early. Like now. They know the answer. It's the same every day. So, they fill the first hour with a snack, some screen time and homework. At this point, the excitement is kicked up a notch. Time is getting closer, to when they will ...

Last Sunday, very quickly, I came down with some violent fashion of a stomach bug. Hours later, just before I was going to attempt to snuggle up in my super comfortable bed and fall asleep, Walker started with it too. It began for him in such a way that demanded he and Will vacate their bed. We drug a twin mattress into the living room for Walker and moved Will to our bed to sleep with Cliff. In an attempt to isolate the sickness, we decided I would sleep on the couch right next to Walker's make shift bed on the floor. That night, my head laid directly in the spot I call "my happy place" in our home. Next to it sits an end table where my Bible, journal and current study find their home. I sit there, sipping my coffee, spending time with my Lord under the illumination of one of my favorite lamps as the morning rays shining in on me. Usually, I curl up under my pink bunny blanket my daddy gave me as a little girl and the dog snuggles up beside me. I love this place. A lot o...