30 Days of Thankfulness, Day Four

I'll keep it short and sweet tonight, as I'm ready for bed and have been for a while, but am making an effort to actually update daily. Yes, I would like my gold star now.

Today being Sunday, it seems like the perfect time to mention how thankful I am for my church.

I've told the whole church saga on this blog before - how I grew up in one church, felt led to find a new one, felt an instant connection at a new one, felt like a traitor to the old one, et cetera, et cetera. It was not a fun transition. It caused much family tension, many tears, and much frustration.

But the plain and simple truth of the matter is that the first time I visited Osborne, two years ago this month, I felt the Holy Spirit during the worship service in a way that I never had before, in all of my (then) 31 years.

Since then, I have learned so much...about who God is and who I am because of Him, about practical life application of God's word, about loving people and serving joyfully.

I am still so far from perfect. I fail daily, and multiple times daily, at that. But here, I finally feel as though I am maturing in Christ. I can hardly help but be thankful for that.

I have also been blessed with an amazing new church family at Osborne. There are some people there that I went to school with, and love seeing again - if it weren't for one of them posting about Osborne on Facebook, in fact, I would likely have never visited. (Thanks, Liz!) But there are so many more that I have met for the first time there, that I wouldn't have known otherwise, that I love dearly and cannot, now, imagine being without.

I love the music. I love the pastor, although he stomps on my toes weekly. I love that there is a huge and well-run children's program, where my girls both learn and have fun. I love that there are thriving homeschool and adoption/foster care communities in the church. I love helping teach the kindergarteners on Wednesday nights, and big hugs from them between songs at music time. I love praying for my church family and knowing that they are praying for me too, and I don't even have to ask it of them.

If you're a local friend who reads my blog and you don't have a church home - please, come visit with me sometime. I'll show you around and stick right with you until you feel at home.

If you're not local...well, I invite you to check out some of the sermons online. There are LOTS that you can watch, and they're all worthy of your time.

No matter where you are, my wish for all of you is for a church home where you feel welcomed, loved, appreciated, interested, and convicted - a church home that allows you to fully appreciate Psalm 122:1: "I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord."

30 Days of Gratitude 2011: Day Two

If I continue my trend of blogging just before bedtime, maybe I never will feel like that full-on rant after all. I'll suffice it to say that something has been gnawing at me. Okay, several things, but one more prominently than the others.

Today being Wednesday, the girls and I headed to church earlier this evening. They went to their respective classrooms (Milly actually, willingly goes to her class now, which is nothing short of a miracle) and I headed off to my class. There are no Wednesday night worship services; rather, there are classes that run in 8-12 week "series," and you choose the class that appeals to you from each session. There are usually several that sound wonderful, and it's a hard choice. This session, though, was a no brainer - it was called Balancing Life's Demands, and was taught by Pastor Steve.


Tonight was the last class of this series, and I'm sad to see it end...but wow, what a last night. I sat there and heard exactly the words I needed to hear. For discipline. For uplifting. For inspiration. I'll share it all in a later post, but suffice it to say, my niggling "what do I do about this" prayers were answered directly tonight.

That's not an uncommon occurrence at Osborne Baptist, which is why on day two, I am thankful for my church.

If you've been reading my blog for a while - or are lucky enough to know me in person (haha) - then you know how I've been struggling in the church department for the past couple of years. Not with faith, but simply where to go. My husband and I have a "home" church - where we grew up, met, etc. - and the decision to seek out a new church was not an easy one. Feeling like a traitor to my "old" church, it took quite some time to "allow" myself to feel at home anywhere else. But I was fortunate to find one that I love, even though it is veeeeery different from what I was used to.

A wise woman has told me several times now that one needs a church where they are "fed" spiritually, and OBC does that for me. I can't tell you how many times I've had experiences just like the one tonight, where I walk in for a service or class and hear Scripture that applies directly to what's going on in my life at that time. I am so very grateful.

(My word, how many "quotes" can I use in one blog post?!)

Of course, it should go without saying that I am also (so, so) grateful that God loves ME enough that He sent his only son to die for ME...and for you. He has blessed me so many times, with a wonderful family and so much more. Without Him, the church itself would be just another building.

Slacky the Slacker

Story of my life...blog, blog, blog, stop blogging for a little while, mentally compose posts but never find time to post them, get overwhelmed with all of the mentally composed posts that I haven't posted yet, continue to procrastinate. And then it ends up being a month between posts, and I feel like the worst blogger ever.


Anywho, let's see if we can get this ship back on course, shall we? Beginning with what's been going on here for the past couple of weeks. I'll just run straight through the family...


~* GENE *~


It's hard to believe that it's been nearly a month since he started his new job at Goodyear! The first two weeks were just classroom training. This week began the 12-hour days of hands-on training. I'm very grateful that he's on day shift for training. I'm pretty sure that he'll be moved to a night shift at some point - and it could be just any minute - so I'm enjoying the heck out of day shift while it lasts. For the time being, he leaves before the girls and I wake up in the morning and gets home around 8 p.m. That part stinks...but he works a swing shift, which means he works for three days and gets two off, then works two days and gets three off. Every other week, he has Friday, Saturday, and Sunday OFF. That is lovely. It'll take more adjusting to having him home during the week, though - the man really wrecks my routine when he's here. It's hard to impress upon Rachael that she must still sit at the kitchen table and do her schoolwork when Daddy is sitting on the couch watching TV. At any rate, he seems to enjoy his new job (for the most part) and it was definitely a good move for our family. The girls are already pointing out Goodyear things wherever they see them (today it was a Goodyear blimp balloon and a sample Goodyear tire in Walmart) although they still notice and point out Utz trucks too.


On his last Sunday off, he came with me to church. I was thrilled to have him there for the first Sunday in a series called MAN UP! All about being a godly husband and father...and I'm not implying that he isn't, just that we all have room for improvement. The church had rented out a local theater for the weekend showings of the new movie Courageous, and Gene went with me to that too. Talk about a powerful movie...I've never cried so much at a movie in my life. (Even at Toy Story 3, although it was probably close. DETEST that movie.) Anyway, we were both a little apprehensive about Courageous, which was made by the folks that brought us Fireproof. Fireproof having had a great message, but truly baaaaaaad acting. Courageous was so, so, so much better in every aspect - there were rough spots, but the acting was better, there were truly funny moments ("not just church-funny," said Gene), and it was touching in so many ways. Best of all, it sent a clear message to the husbands and fathers: be the man that God called you to be. Accept responsibility for your families. Do not let them down. Just my personal opinion here, but this one should be required viewing for any man that answers to "dad."


~* ME *~


I am, as usual, the least interesting member of this family. In the past two weeks, I've homeschooled, cooked, washed dishes, done laundry, attended no fewer than 68 Girl Scout functions, chauffeured Rachael back and forth to the ranch a bajillion times, swept, vacuumed, sold some Scentsy, read a lot, ate, slept, bathed, and a partridge in a pear tree. (Just seeing if you were paying attention.)

Two minor accomplishments: I started the Couch to 5K running program. I know, ME, running - it's absurd. Definitely not a pretty sight, which is why I do it on the treadmill, in the privacy of my own home.


I also sat down with a crochet hook and YouTube and started learning to crochet. Friends have attempted to teach me before, but I just didn't practice enough to let it sink in...I could make a chain from here to Tuesday, but had no idea what to do after that. I still don't, really, but I'm decent with at least three crochet stitches now. I have lots more videos to go before I'm proficient enough to read a pattern or anything, but at least I've started. It still feels so wrong to have just one hook instead of two knitting needles, and my left thumb hurts a lot (must be holding something wrong), but I'm kind of enjoying the challenge.


That's really it. I clearly need to do something exciting.


~* RACHAEL *~


The most exciting thing that happened to Rachael in the past two weeks was undoubtedly the night she got her pinky finger caught in a metal folding chair, and ripped the entire fingernail off. It was not a pretty sight. Well, I guess it wasn't - I couldn't look at it. Thank God that it happened on a night Gene was here to take care of it. (Blood usually doesn't make me terribly squeamish, by the way - but when it's one of my babies bleeding, I just can't handle it. Cut me instead, thanks.) It bled a lot, and I know it hurt...but she was far more concerned about what it looked like, and refused to be without a Band-Aid covering it for several days. Silly girl. It's now a free-range injury and healing nicely (according to a nurse friend), although it's still a vibrant shade of purple around the tiny stub of regrown fingernail.


She's spent a lot of time at the ranch doing the 4-H thing, and is super excited for the show coming up in November. It's about time to start incorporating the 4-H handbook into our school day, actually, so she'll be well-versed when it's time to be quizzed by the judges. There have been two brand new baby alpacas (a baby alpaca is called a cria - see, I'm learning things too!) in the past few weeks, and she's gotten to love on them both - as well as baby sugar gliders (soooo precious!) The ranch has lost a few more animals, though - something (presumably a coyote or similar) attacked their poultry last weekend. One rooster and several chickens were killed, along with everyone's favorite duck, Noel. Noel was a duck with personality - he'd follow people around and if you stopped, he'd peck at your shoes. We loved him, but (thankfully) she didn't take it as hard as she did Bluebell's departure. RIP, Noel, I'll miss the little guy.


It's just amazing to me to watch her at the ranch - handling the alpacas and llamas so comfortably, teaching me how to do "critter care," even shoveling poop - which they call "poop-lates" (think "pilates.") She's always been a princess that didn't mind getting a little dirty, but I just couldn't have imagined her being a little farm girl. (Note to self: get picture of her in the barn in her boots and braids!)


She's doing so well in school...she's memorized the first 18 books of the Old Testament and most of the New Testament books, and she can rattle off the names of Jacob's twelve sons like they were personal friends. English, spelling, vocabulary...well, we're very much alike in that she doesn't struggle with those. She's loving her new math curriculum and thinks that multiplication is FUN (!!!), knows the sound that each Latin letter makes (with and without macrons), and still adores history more than just about anything. I am a lucky, lucky homeschooling mama to have such a good, willing student. But I will surely pay my dues plus interest with Milly when she's a bit older.


~* MILLY *~


She is a little more dramatic, but truth be told, she hasn't been doing badly with school either. She LOVES her Explode the Code workbooks, and will happily sit and race through a dozen pages at a time if I let her. We started with the first book in the series, and I just bought the other two in the preschool series, lest she run out and go ballistic. I have a strong feeling that I'll be starting kindergarten books with her before this school year is over! She's doing well with her first year of Bible lessons too - she knows the same "Sons of Jacob" song as her sister, and she can name the New Testament books through 2nd Corinthians. Not too shabby for a 3.5-year-old! The thing with her is, she does school on her terms. When she's ready, you'd better not tell her that you don't have anything for her to do. And when she's done, her school day is over.


In spite of her being demon possessed temperament, something remarkable has happened in the past week... Before Goodyear, Gene would usually take Milly to church with him. On the rare occasion that we attempted to bring her to my church, she would not - and I mean would not - go to her Sunday school class. Epic tantrums ensued. Much clinging and screaming, tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth. In the end, it wasn't worth it to make her stay - I hated to leave her in such a state, and hated it doubly for the hapless volunteer who would have to deal with her.


But with Gene working every other Sunday now, something had to change. If she didn't go to her own class, she would have to sit through the worship service with me (distracting me) and then through my Sunday school class as well (distracting everyone.) So I talked to other parents in the church. Emailed the preschool director. Emailed the Sunday school teacher. Worried a lot and prayed a lot. And when Sunday morning came...she stayed in her class. The whole time. I'm talking 9:30 until a few minutes past 12 - this was major. We had talked it up and told her what to expect, and she was excited about it...until we got into the room. Then she started edging behind me and whispering that she'd changed her mind. And the tears started, but no howling. That's when her teacher, Miss Melissa, let her know that *ahem* MOMMY NEEDED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM...so I ducked into the bathroom that connected the two four-year-old classrooms (yep, they promoted her to the four-year-old room!) and exited through the other classroom. Startling the other teacher a bit, but it was worth it. Milly stayed and had a great time, and I've heard of little else but Miss Melissa all week.  :)


Wednesday night was a little harder - she threw a full-fledged tantrum and preschool director quite literally pried her off of my leg...I felt horrible once again, for leaving someone else to deal with a Milly tantrum. But again, I found out later that she cut it out almost immediately, and had a great time in class. She even got to play the hand bells - and if she keeps going and practicing, she'll get to play them in the Christmas program this year. (I am quite opposed to this; my BABY is not big enough to be in a Christmas program!! But I digress.)


Milly is enjoying some time at the ranch too. This past Saturday was Oktoberfest, and they took several alpacas, a llama, the donkey, chickens, goats, an angora rabbit, a tortoise, a snake, and a sugar glider...and set up a little petting zoo uptown. Naturally, Rachael stayed with them rather than accompanying me to my boring old Girl Scout table...but once I was relieved and Milly and I headed back to the critters, Milly was eager to get right in the middle of it. One of the younger alpacas, a handsome solid white dude named Russell, is just a little taller than Milly - she promptly claimed his lead line and led him all over the place for other people to pat. Looks like I have another 4-H'er on my hands...once she turns seven. No rush.


Both girls are excited about Halloween...and Thanksgiving...and Milly's birthday...and Christmas. They have the remainder of 2011 planned out quite nicely. Wish I were so organized.

So, that's what's been going on with us. I have more thoughts to share later, now that the dreaded update is finished. And I have three - yes, three - giveaways to post later! Perhaps I'll get around to that tonight, now that I'm done procrastinating. For now.

Do Everything

So, in my travels around blogdom, I've been seeing links to Spiritual Sundays posts all over the place. I finally made my way to the website this weekend, and decided that it was high time to join in!

My first thought was to blog about this morning's sermon at church. We've been studying the book of Romans for a while now, and I've learned so much about grace, salvation, sin, obedience... Today, the narrower topic was "Winning the War Inside Me." As believers, we have opposing natures that are always at war within us - our original, sinful nature (our "default" setting) and the new nature that is created in when we are saved. However, just being saved doesn't automatically make us perfect - as any Christian very well knows. We still have to fight that default setting and strive to let the more perfect nature shine through. Not always easy, is it? I am so thankful for a Savior that helps me whenever I call on him.

And even though that's a perfectly wonderful topic to blog about, something else struck me this evening instead.

The children had just headed off to bed, and Gene was on the couch watching TV (which is his personal default setting.) Not wanting to watch what he was watching, I figured it was as good a time as any to tackle some housework.

Sunday night has become the new Monday morning for me. I rather dread them. Sunday night nearly always means grocery shopping, so that particular trip won't interrupt our homeschool routine on Monday. Other plans for tomorrow have tossed our routine to the wind anyway, so I decided to postpone the groceries until then. A small reprieve for my evening.

But there was still the little matter of the kitchen to clean up. Not such a little matter, actually. There were still dishes in the sink from breakfast (had to hurry to church!) and from lunch (naptime!) and now from dinner too. Exacerbating the issue was the fact that Gene had cooked dinner - a task for which I am very grateful. However, the man is capable of utterly destroying the kitchen in mere minutes. He had made hamburgers on the griddle, so there was grease splattered for at least four square feet to clean up. Every remaining clean dish was now dirtied and piled precariously in the sink. Leftover lettuce and tomato was still piled on the cutting board. Cheese wrappers. Bread crumbs. The mayonnaise that didn't make it back into the fridge. It was actually a little amusing in its atrocity. I'm not sure I could make a mess like that if I'd tried - and certainly not as quickly!

So I cleaned all of that up. Gathered up the scattered remains of the morning newspaper from the table. Swept the floor. Folded the laundry that was waiting in the dryer, so I could dry the load waiting in the washer.

It was in the middle of all of this, as I wiped down the table, that I started to mentally grumble. Why was I doing all the work while he sat on his butt and watched TV? Sure, he has to get up early in the morning and go to work, but it's not like I have an easy day ahead of me either. Homeschooling while babysitting, visiting my mother-in-law in the hospital, and grocery shopping with what will certainly be tired and hungry children by the time we get there. Oh, and I have to get gas first, since he parked the van with the gas light on after church today. Not to mention the emotional aspect of my day tomorrow (please, if you're reading this, pray for my dear and hurting friend...)

No, my day will not a piece of cake, but I'm expected to "do it all" anyway. Why isn't he helping? Why does everything fall on me? Can't I be tired too? Can't I have a break? Whine, moan, complain.

Then, I happened to remember a song that I heard on the radio earlier today. I've heard it before (and love it), and I'm thankful that it came back just when I needed it. It's called Do Everything, by Steven Curtis Chapman, and it could easily be a full-time mom's anthem. The very first words are: "You're picking up toys on the living room floor for the fifteenth time today; matching up socks and sweeping up lost Cheerios that got away."

Oh yes, this is a song for me.

But the ultimate point of the song is not lamenting the role of the mom (or student, or businessman, or burger flipper) - it's remembering why it is that we do what we do. Check out the chorus:

Do everything you do to the glory of the One who made you

'Cause He made you

To do every little thing that you do to bring a smile to His face

And tell the story of grace with every move that you make

And every little thing that you do.

I so needed that tonight. And as I hummed it, I felt so much better about the "little" chores, the "meaningless" tasks, the "thankless" jobs. Turns out it's all about perspective, and they only seemed little and meaningless to me.

Thank you, Lord, for a home to keep and a family to care for. And not necessarily in that order.

Here's the (really cute and very creative) video for Do Everything - take just a couple of minutes to watch it, and I bet it'll bring a smile to your face too!

Whiter Than Snow

"What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus."

So goes an old hymn that is sung often in our little church, and one that I love. It confused me as a little girl...how could you wash in blood and come out clean on the other side? It seemed gory and gross to me then. I didn't want to be washed in blood! Thank goodness we outgrow the literal mindset of early childhood, huh?

Psalm 51:7 says, "wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."

Yesterday, Rachael followed through with her decision to be baptised. She had been thinking it over, learning about it, praying about it, for months - and when the opportunity arose, she was ready. Despite her fear of the water, and especially of being under the water, she never wavered in her resolve to publicly declare her acceptance of and faith in Jesus Christ as her Savior.

I am so proud of her. It must be one of the most fervent desires of any Christian mother's heart to know that her child knows and loves God. For the past seven and a half years, it's been my job to do things for her until she was able to do them on her own, to make the best decisions for her until she was capable of thinking them through herself. This decision, though, was never up to me - believing, accepting, and obeying were decisions that she had to make for herself.

And she did.

To have a child who understands so much at such a young age, and who is so eager to be obedient to Him...I can't express the joy that fills my heart to think of it.

Here's my sweet girl, freshly baptised...whiter than snow. <3

PRAYER WORKS!

 

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