There are so many days, as a mother, that I am exhausted. Not just plain tired - any mothers reading this will know what I am talking about. The days where you can't manage to pick up one more pair of dirty pants, wipe another nose, tell one more child to "STOP fighting/yelling/screaming/hitting/annoying each other...." I could go on and on with that one! You can't manage to keep up with the laundry, dishes, meals, and when that's all done - you see the floors that you know you swept at least twice already, dirty again. You collapse on the couch by the end of the day, and you know that whatever you haven't finished - just isn't going to get finished. And you wonder where your time went....
THEN - you have those days. Where you wish God would just, as he did for Joshua, freeze time for a moment - an hour - a few hours. My two oldest children took off with my husband for Hoss' baseball practice this evening, so I took the time to get the younger three outside. We took out the bikes (for everyone except Buddy Boy, who - at 3 - can't figure out how to control his direction on his bike, and inevitably runs in to every section of curb possible in a 10 feet radius!) and went on a walk. Miss Priss and Bug are 19 months apart, and because Miss Priss is my tiny one, they are the same size, and could be twins. It's so fun to watch them together, and know that the relationship there is truly something special. We went on a looooooong bike ride/walk - well, long for kids, and there were moments where some of them were tired of walking, needed a break, we had to stop countless times for cars or for Buddy Boy to pick up a certain stick or rock. Somewhere in the middle of all this, though, I took a mental step outside of the box. I looked at the weed flowers that they had so lovingly stopped the procession to pick for me (how I love being the first recipient of those flowers!!!!), watched the two girls riding side by side, hair flying in the wind - looked down at Buddy's little growing legs keeping step beside me - and had this one thought....
I want this to stay in my mind FOREVER.
I don't EVER want to lose this.....
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Monday, December 9, 2013
The Cracked Bell
*I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago, the day after Thanksgiving, intending to take the appropriate pictures and post! I can't believe I forgot about it, but it's still good and still applies! Enjoy!*
As I pulled out ornaments and lights and stockings this year, I began sorting through a small collection of bells. These weren't mine originally - they came from my mother. She decided about 4 years ago that she was going to try to give some of her own Christmas decor (which thoroughly swamps mine about 5 times over!) and give some to my sisters and I, things she wanted us to eventually have anyway. She gave me a tote full of bells that she had collected over the years. Grateful for the gift, yet knowing I have never once attempted to collect any kind of bells and knew I probably wouldn't put them out, I promptly had my husband put them in the attic and that was that.
Fast forward a couple years, to last year - I decided to look through them and chose just three small ones out of the 15-20 of them to set out.
So today when my husband was helping me unpack my ONE tote of our own decor, and the tote that was full of bells, he began taking them all out and I wondered to myself why in the world he was doing that, and just knew I would end up having to put so many back. As I looked through, I decided it wouldn't hurt to try and put them all out, and arrange them to match as best as possible (they span three decades, so you can imagine the variety in style!).
A few were inexpensive ones - Dollar store finds, etc., or maybe from a garage sell somewhere along the line. I could see my mother's face in finding them, the excitement of having found a bell she didn't yet have. They became a little prettier in that light.
Some were very obviously from specific places - maybe something a friend had given her along the way. I could imagine her joy and appreciation in getting such a gift, and knew she had given me that same gift - it meant so much more all of a sudden.
I saw several that I remembered her putting up, and thought how wonderful it was that my children were seeing me do something that I watched my mother do so many times.
Then I came upon one with a crack in it. Oh, it was barely visible - a lovely bell. But when you looked, you could see the unmistakable crack, sealed in by a very old coating of clear super glue.
In an instant, I reflected on my own day. One that started early, with shopping. Than back home to make pancakes, try my best to stay awake and read and play until that was no longer possible. Then - the luxury of a nap, and yet another trip to the store, for groceries this time. My husband had somewhere to be this evening, so after the tree was assembled and ready for decorating tomorrow, he left. I began dinner, and somewhere around there, the night began to get long - kids were tired, cranky, trying to hold out, and quite honestly - failing miserably. And so was I, despite the nap. The night got longer and longer, and came to a head when Hoss tried to move the coffee table and slammed it into a glass section of our dining room door, breaking it into a hundred tiny pieces. I felt the final straw pull, and decided that sleeping in the living room, by the light of the tree, just WAS NOT going to happen tonight - they were tired, I was tired, and we just needed to be done with our day. I prayed and just asked the Lord what I should do - He reminded me with a still, small voice, that I needed to use the same with them. So, with a small, quiet voice, we re-grouped, and got everyone settled in for a night of Polar Express and tree-light. I thought about this crack, and wondered how it had happened. You see - I can't really remember. Maybe she dropped it when unpacking, maybe the box shifted too rough in a trip up or down out of the attic. Maybe, just maybe.... I broke it. Or one of my sisters. I couldn't remember. I could imagine her very carefully, gently, precisely holding it in place and gluing it back together - making sure every edge matched up just so. Making it presentable again - able to be set out among all the others, trying to move on the way it once was. And for years - it had remained in the collection. The crack was still there, and if you were to pick it up, it would be easy to spot. Yet, it wasn't trashed - it was able to be restored enough to make it all this time. I realized then, that I should react often times as with the bell. Realize there is no way to go back and 'un-crack' what has been messed up - there is no way to change the past. You can sorrow over it, lament what used to be, be sad - angry - even cry a bucket of tears. But then - then you must find a way to pick up the pieces, but them back together the best you can, and move on. Place the bell out with the others, and know that even when all others have forgotten, you will remember the crack - how it got there - how you fixed it. Or maybe, you might find that years later, you can't recall what once was such a big deal. Maybe it wasn't so big after all.
Isn't that what God does with us, after all? We are cracked vessels - broken and unable to be used on our own. We won't ring out His truth, we wouldn't even make it back on the shelf. He picks us up, though - dusts us off, finds all the missing pieces, and carefully glues us back together again. We go year after year, and sometimes forget what was so hard once. Sometimes, the memory is there, and serves as a reminder that we could not make it on our own, but with His hand to carry us through and restore us - until the only thing left of the trial is a faint mark, only visible to a close eye. The marks will change us, but they don't have to destroy us forever - in fact, they can yield a testimony of victory over a trial, and proof that God's hands can hold and heal us, and make us fit again to go another day, month, year.
So this year, if sometimes breaks - remember the little hands that most likely didn't mean to break it. Remember that one day, they will look back and what you do now will be their memory forever. And if you are the bell - you are cracked, broken, torn apart by some valley you are walking through - lean on the One - the Only One - who can pick you up, fit the pieces together, and help you get on down the road. One day, it will be a faint memory - no bigger than a crack on a bell.
As I pulled out ornaments and lights and stockings this year, I began sorting through a small collection of bells. These weren't mine originally - they came from my mother. She decided about 4 years ago that she was going to try to give some of her own Christmas decor (which thoroughly swamps mine about 5 times over!) and give some to my sisters and I, things she wanted us to eventually have anyway. She gave me a tote full of bells that she had collected over the years. Grateful for the gift, yet knowing I have never once attempted to collect any kind of bells and knew I probably wouldn't put them out, I promptly had my husband put them in the attic and that was that.
Fast forward a couple years, to last year - I decided to look through them and chose just three small ones out of the 15-20 of them to set out.
So today when my husband was helping me unpack my ONE tote of our own decor, and the tote that was full of bells, he began taking them all out and I wondered to myself why in the world he was doing that, and just knew I would end up having to put so many back. As I looked through, I decided it wouldn't hurt to try and put them all out, and arrange them to match as best as possible (they span three decades, so you can imagine the variety in style!).
A few were inexpensive ones - Dollar store finds, etc., or maybe from a garage sell somewhere along the line. I could see my mother's face in finding them, the excitement of having found a bell she didn't yet have. They became a little prettier in that light.
Some were very obviously from specific places - maybe something a friend had given her along the way. I could imagine her joy and appreciation in getting such a gift, and knew she had given me that same gift - it meant so much more all of a sudden.
I saw several that I remembered her putting up, and thought how wonderful it was that my children were seeing me do something that I watched my mother do so many times.
Then I came upon one with a crack in it. Oh, it was barely visible - a lovely bell. But when you looked, you could see the unmistakable crack, sealed in by a very old coating of clear super glue.
In an instant, I reflected on my own day. One that started early, with shopping. Than back home to make pancakes, try my best to stay awake and read and play until that was no longer possible. Then - the luxury of a nap, and yet another trip to the store, for groceries this time. My husband had somewhere to be this evening, so after the tree was assembled and ready for decorating tomorrow, he left. I began dinner, and somewhere around there, the night began to get long - kids were tired, cranky, trying to hold out, and quite honestly - failing miserably. And so was I, despite the nap. The night got longer and longer, and came to a head when Hoss tried to move the coffee table and slammed it into a glass section of our dining room door, breaking it into a hundred tiny pieces. I felt the final straw pull, and decided that sleeping in the living room, by the light of the tree, just WAS NOT going to happen tonight - they were tired, I was tired, and we just needed to be done with our day. I prayed and just asked the Lord what I should do - He reminded me with a still, small voice, that I needed to use the same with them. So, with a small, quiet voice, we re-grouped, and got everyone settled in for a night of Polar Express and tree-light. I thought about this crack, and wondered how it had happened. You see - I can't really remember. Maybe she dropped it when unpacking, maybe the box shifted too rough in a trip up or down out of the attic. Maybe, just maybe.... I broke it. Or one of my sisters. I couldn't remember. I could imagine her very carefully, gently, precisely holding it in place and gluing it back together - making sure every edge matched up just so. Making it presentable again - able to be set out among all the others, trying to move on the way it once was. And for years - it had remained in the collection. The crack was still there, and if you were to pick it up, it would be easy to spot. Yet, it wasn't trashed - it was able to be restored enough to make it all this time. I realized then, that I should react often times as with the bell. Realize there is no way to go back and 'un-crack' what has been messed up - there is no way to change the past. You can sorrow over it, lament what used to be, be sad - angry - even cry a bucket of tears. But then - then you must find a way to pick up the pieces, but them back together the best you can, and move on. Place the bell out with the others, and know that even when all others have forgotten, you will remember the crack - how it got there - how you fixed it. Or maybe, you might find that years later, you can't recall what once was such a big deal. Maybe it wasn't so big after all.
Isn't that what God does with us, after all? We are cracked vessels - broken and unable to be used on our own. We won't ring out His truth, we wouldn't even make it back on the shelf. He picks us up, though - dusts us off, finds all the missing pieces, and carefully glues us back together again. We go year after year, and sometimes forget what was so hard once. Sometimes, the memory is there, and serves as a reminder that we could not make it on our own, but with His hand to carry us through and restore us - until the only thing left of the trial is a faint mark, only visible to a close eye. The marks will change us, but they don't have to destroy us forever - in fact, they can yield a testimony of victory over a trial, and proof that God's hands can hold and heal us, and make us fit again to go another day, month, year.
So this year, if sometimes breaks - remember the little hands that most likely didn't mean to break it. Remember that one day, they will look back and what you do now will be their memory forever. And if you are the bell - you are cracked, broken, torn apart by some valley you are walking through - lean on the One - the Only One - who can pick you up, fit the pieces together, and help you get on down the road. One day, it will be a faint memory - no bigger than a crack on a bell.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
What's With All The Babies?
My husband and I were out a few days ago for a couple hours of 'Daddy, Mommy' time, which amounted to going to pay a bill together, do some early Christmas looking, and eating quickly at Subway.
I know that doesn't sound super interesting, but sometimes you take what you can get, right? :)
We got to talking about babies and children, and what some people refer to as a *big* family. Here I might add - we have five children, and I don't at all consider us to be a big family. For some people that might seem large, but to me - it's just not.
I was surprised to find out, however, that the opinions of others my husband works are quite the opposite, even going so far as to question if religion plays a part in it! Which leads one to wonder - DOES religion play a part in how many children a person has?
Obviously, the answer to that one is - maybe. Maybe - you are in a 'religion' that believes in big families, and you have one because of said 'religion'. Maybe - you know someone who had a large number of children, and sadly only did so to get more government benefits. I know that sounds harsh, but unfortunately, we know some who have done just that. Those reasons, however, aren't why we have what so many consider to be a 'large' family.
You see, when we got married - we flip-flopped about how many children we planned on having.
He wanted 2, I wanted 2 - then I wanted 4, and he still said 2 is a nice number - 1 for each, you know. We said we would have them 1 1/2 - 2 years apart - perfect spacing, you know.
THEN - God showed us that what we think we have planned out has NOTHING on His plans! Little Mama was born in September of 2004, and exactly 1 year and 10 days later, Hoss joined us.
Pleasantly surprised, we said "Let's make sure he gets to 6 months old before I got pregnant again". Hah - see - we were trying to plan it all again. Hoss was 16 months old when we found out I was going to have Miss Priss, which meant that we would have three children born in September - I mean, really - WHO PLANS THAT?
* God does - that's Who *
The best part of the story is the youngest two - both surprises as well, because I am surprised I got pregnant with them when I did.
Of course, God wasn't. Both of them were born at times where you could easily say it was the worst time to have a baby, for many different reasons that just don't matter now. We spent less money on diapers and baby food and essentials with these two than we ever did on the others, God provided so many times, and continues to. I have always been able to stand behind the saying "God won't give what He can't provide for!", because I have seen it play itself out in the first years of all my children.
So, yes - we do happen to love our babies. And, personally, I would have another... and another, and another - until God said "That's My Will for you". I didn't write this to offend someone who doesn't have a 'big' family - how many children you do or don't have is up to you and your business. There are some people that, for medical reasons, don't have many children, or any at all, and maybe can't because it would be life-endangering for both parties. God knows that. There are some women who would give anything to hold a child of her own and give it more love than you can imagine - and they can't. My heart goes out to women like that, for I have known a few myself. I wrote this just to say, it's not always some superficial reason why people have a lot of children, and it's definitely not because we just *can't figure out what causes that* - yes, I've heard that one before! I prayed, and still pray, that God gives me just as many children as He wants me to have, and pray daily that I love my children the way He loves me. I'm definitely not the perfect mama - I fail many times, and many times have to ask my children to forgive me. I wouldn't have my life any other way, though, and if you are 'one of those mamas' that have children running here and there and everywhere - don't let people's opinions discourage you.
God said, "Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward." (Psalm 127:3). Cherish those babies, for one day - they won't be babies anymore. One day, we will only be able to look back on these days and remember what we once had and realize how blessed we are!
I know that doesn't sound super interesting, but sometimes you take what you can get, right? :)
We got to talking about babies and children, and what some people refer to as a *big* family. Here I might add - we have five children, and I don't at all consider us to be a big family. For some people that might seem large, but to me - it's just not.
I was surprised to find out, however, that the opinions of others my husband works are quite the opposite, even going so far as to question if religion plays a part in it! Which leads one to wonder - DOES religion play a part in how many children a person has?
Obviously, the answer to that one is - maybe. Maybe - you are in a 'religion' that believes in big families, and you have one because of said 'religion'. Maybe - you know someone who had a large number of children, and sadly only did so to get more government benefits. I know that sounds harsh, but unfortunately, we know some who have done just that. Those reasons, however, aren't why we have what so many consider to be a 'large' family.
You see, when we got married - we flip-flopped about how many children we planned on having.
 |
~ My handsome husband and I on our wedding day ~
He wanted 2, I wanted 2 - then I wanted 4, and he still said 2 is a nice number - 1 for each, you know. We said we would have them 1 1/2 - 2 years apart - perfect spacing, you know.
THEN - God showed us that what we think we have planned out has NOTHING on His plans! Little Mama was born in September of 2004, and exactly 1 year and 10 days later, Hoss joined us.
 |
| Little Mama and Hoss - they have never known life without each other :) |
Pleasantly surprised, we said "Let's make sure he gets to 6 months old before I got pregnant again". Hah - see - we were trying to plan it all again. Hoss was 16 months old when we found out I was going to have Miss Priss, which meant that we would have three children born in September - I mean, really - WHO PLANS THAT?
* God does - that's Who *
 |
| Miss Priss at about 1 month old |
The best part of the story is the youngest two - both surprises as well, because I am surprised I got pregnant with them when I did.
 |
| Bug, at about 8-9 months old |
 |
| Buddy Boy, just a couple of days old |
Of course, God wasn't. Both of them were born at times where you could easily say it was the worst time to have a baby, for many different reasons that just don't matter now. We spent less money on diapers and baby food and essentials with these two than we ever did on the others, God provided so many times, and continues to. I have always been able to stand behind the saying "God won't give what He can't provide for!", because I have seen it play itself out in the first years of all my children.
So, yes - we do happen to love our babies. And, personally, I would have another... and another, and another - until God said "That's My Will for you". I didn't write this to offend someone who doesn't have a 'big' family - how many children you do or don't have is up to you and your business. There are some people that, for medical reasons, don't have many children, or any at all, and maybe can't because it would be life-endangering for both parties. God knows that. There are some women who would give anything to hold a child of her own and give it more love than you can imagine - and they can't. My heart goes out to women like that, for I have known a few myself. I wrote this just to say, it's not always some superficial reason why people have a lot of children, and it's definitely not because we just *can't figure out what causes that* - yes, I've heard that one before! I prayed, and still pray, that God gives me just as many children as He wants me to have, and pray daily that I love my children the way He loves me. I'm definitely not the perfect mama - I fail many times, and many times have to ask my children to forgive me. I wouldn't have my life any other way, though, and if you are 'one of those mamas' that have children running here and there and everywhere - don't let people's opinions discourage you.
God said, "Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward." (Psalm 127:3). Cherish those babies, for one day - they won't be babies anymore. One day, we will only be able to look back on these days and remember what we once had and realize how blessed we are!
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