Thankfulness is a Lifestyle

...not just a November thing.

Sure I love Thanksgiving!  Pumpkin is one of my favorite foods, along with warm comfort treats like mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, and turkey.  Of course, that's simply the meal.  More so, I love the gathering of people throughout our home, often orphans and widows, like the check out lady at the grocery store and her daughter one year, or the far from family single women in our neighborhood, or new people in town who know no one.  I'm not the sentimental who only wants to gather my close family around, though I love and cherish them.  But, spend one Thanksgiving in a Children's Hospital among selfless caregivers and tireless staff, friends and family, and the day of Thanksgiving becomes something else entirely.  The meaning not lost on me.

As much as I love seeing what people are thankful for on Facebook, it's important to me to model to my family that giving thanks is a day in and day out act of beauty, worship, and dying to ourselves.  It doesn't only last for 30 days, one month out of the year, but in this life, in this family, we will be intentional about thankfulness, in both the giving and receiving of it.

To be given something for which you are unable to ever repay, this is the true definition of a gift.  The words, "Thank You" may never seem enough, but this is the beauty in giving and receiving.  It's a world changing event which takes place in the admission of gratefulness, every single day.

My friends and I encouraged one another to start these thankfulness posts back in October...because Thanksgiving is one day out of the year, 30 Days of Thanks is apparently a new thingy, but saying "Thank You!" is an every single day of the year privilege, a practice, an act of face to face time with the Giver of all good gifts.

Yesterday this was the thankfulness expressed at our breakfast table, on this particular day, in no particular order:

Jason

• My relationship with God
• My wife and kids
• My extended family
• Friends
• My job at Compassion

Emily

• "You guys"
• "Our family"
• The Ocean
• Friends
• My school

Ryan

• Giraffes
• Zebras
• Cheetahs
• Elephants
• And, elephants!

Me

• Quiet time with God
• "You guys"
• Healthy bodies
• Heated blankets
• Hot tea to warm me

I'm happy people are being intentional about being thankful during the month of November.  My prayer is that after 21 days, it will become, not a habit, but a lifestyle.  Please don't hear I think I am perfect at being thankful.  I am not.  I reject gifts and compliments and helping hands, am too prideful to ask for help, and try to do stuff on my own more often than I should.  I'm learning through this...learning that the giving and receiving of thanks is a lesson of honoring another more highly than ourselves.  

Not an easy Thanksgiving bite to swallow...

Some friends are writing about thankfulness on their blogs:

• Heidi Jo
• Heidi Jo

It's Important for you to Know

It's important for you to know I don't always hate myself.

It's important because it is the truth.

And "hate" is a big word, one which isn't truly accurate for how I feel day in and day out.  But for those of you who struggle with the person in the mirror on occasion, you know when the word "hate" is stirring and feel the brunt of it when it rears its ugly head.

Most days I don't even think about myself.  I love being a wife and mom and friend and neighbor.  All roles I enjoy and have even chosen.

But this morning a thought came to mind.  After processing it a bit with my husband, a friend, and just an hour ago with my counselor, I'll try my best to convey here.

Earlier this week I read this article.  Before you criticize the author, read it and then process it through the following filter:

My intention in attending a 4-year college was not to find a husband.  I mean, really, if you think about it...$20,000/year for private schooling = a really nice dowry after 4 years.  Instead, I got married with a heap load of debt.  I went to school with a desire to learn and grow and explore more of God's creativity, knowledge, and will for my life.  Originally I wanted to be a writer, but after being placed in remedial English my freshman year (WHO KNEW you could study for the SAT???!!!) and being challenged by my parents to choose a "real major," I decided to move forward in pre-med, because I at least knew I wanted to heal people.  (*Pretty sure my parents envisioned a beatnik writer in a smoky coffee shop with a beret handing out free copies of my work or a writer in a cabin in the woods, never publishing but living off her parents.  I think they forgot about journalists and columnists and you know, authors and writers.)

Photo by Ann Larie Valentine

If you've read here a while, you know I didn't make it through pre-med, seeing as how passing chemistry is necessary and all.  With a passion for international travel and culture and a love for God's love story for the world, I majored in Theology with a Missions emphasis and a minor in Spanish.  Upon graduation, my husband and I set off with hundreds of teenagers in tow to Venezuela to share God's love, and that was just the beginning.  (*This doesn't really have anything to do with what I'm talking about here...but you try tracing a thought in your head on paper.  It's tough stuff.)

Anyway, way back when my mom told me about reproduction, namely sex and baby delivery, I was cool never being a mom.  And FOR SURE not going through the delivery part.  Ewwww and OWWW!  Kids were fine and all if they belonged to someone else, but for me, it was six in one, half dozen in the other.  Then I met my husband and realized he would be one amazing dad.  And then I met our first child and fell in love.

I hung up the world of Student Development in the college setting, having only been surrounded by college aged women from the time I entered college plus 7 more years as a professional.  And I entered into daily one on one's with an infant girl.  One for whom I was souly (*I meant: soul) responsible, but really had nothing to give in return other than bodily excretions and some lovely sounds and snuggles.  All good, but not the reason I went to college.

Soooo, follow along here for a sec...a few years ago my mom and I were talking about indulgence and contentment specifically how I'll eat to escape.  We talked about how on vacation we are relaxed, enjoying feelings attached to new memories, rewarding experiences, and new pleasures, often times coupled with dining and trying exotic foods or yummy drinks or relaxing on warm beaches.  These are all good and great and obviously a luxury, but all reasons we long for and look forward to vacations, even short getaways. 

This morning it occurred to me, a person who loves authenticity and enjoys the art of writing, whether on paper or in my head, that even though I love being a wife and mom, those roles do not define me.  My friend even said her husband posed the question to her several years ago, "If I died or our children died, you wouldn't be my wife or their mother anymore...so who would YOU be, not what would you DO?"  He went on to say those are roles she may love, but they aren't necessarily her authentic true self, they are part of her but not her.

Are you even tracking with me?  I'm sorry if not...I'm trying here.

So, I can't speak for you, but I'll speak for myself.  I adore my children and am a really good mom.  I'm also a smoking hot, attentive wife who prays favor and blessings over my husband every day.  And during this season of life, which is now going on 11 years as a parent, 20 as a wife, I've put aside much of my own desires, passions, pursuits, and ways in which I am wired, to focus on the here and now, namely my family and their well-being.

I put all my coals in one fire.

Like the British mum who expressed her heart, this is not something I should have done.  Loving myself by keeping one iron in the fire would have kept God's deposits, His gifts, still kindling.  INSTEAD, like many SAHM's and Outside the Home Working Mums, I focused on just one thing and that one thing became THE thing.  And as a result, I have FILLED those places which were rich and fulfilling with temporary satisfaction, namely food.

And maybe you've filled it with an addiction to sassy coffee or keeping a perfectly clean house or volunteering extra hours at things which are good and worthwhile and important or shopping or redecorating and redecorating and redecorating your house or that third glass of wine?  Or maybe you've filled it with accomplishments at work and others opinions of you or checking things off a list or keeping up the image you portray to those around you, no matter how weary you really are?

These feelings we experience on vacation when we are able to escape from the day to day become feelings we want to experience in the day to day when the rubber hits the road and we feel overwhelmed...and especially as Americans, we think we deserve it.

Okay, never mind, I'll speak for myself...I think I deserve it.

I think because I did 7 loads of laundry, cleaned the house, got Em off to school and played trains and dinosaurs with Ryan for three hours and put a healthy dinner on the table, I deserve this or that reward...and truth be told, I crave the reward and instant gratification food or wine or, for sure, chocolate, delivers.

All the while, the reason these temporary indulgences have come up short is because as I dove head first into being a mom, specifically, I didn't leave an iron in the fire.  A writing iron, that is.  The very iron God designed in me as an outlet for creativity and in more recent years, for authenticity, ministry, and healing.

Which leads me to my Facebook post after counseling today:

"Here I go to counseling to talk about disordered eating and unhealthy expectations and body image, and we wind up talking about writing...because apparently when I write authentically, candidly, and with vulnerability, I'm being true to who God made me to be."  #stuffcounselorstellyouthatyouknowdeepdown #killingmonsters #findingfreedomtowritemyheartout

After counseling I had lunch with Jason, then headed to a beatnik coffee shop to write.

The girls next to me asked me what I do.

I told them I'm a writer.

A Whole Lotta Tongue in Cheek

Recently someone I know posted a picture of himself being baptized as an infant.  His caption had some sort of smart ass sentiment about "water boarding" and "for shame...I was just a baby." 

It got me thinking.  I started attending church at the same age he was in the picture.  That was about 41 years ago.  And church has looked like many different things over that time, including the last two years where I haven't gone to church really at all...

Why did my parents do it?  Why was I given a head bath at a mass in 1972 in Ohio, one winter day?  Why did they choose Catholic over Lutheran over Episcopalian over Baptist over some other brand name denomination?  Why did I go to CCD, First Confession, First Communion, Confirmation?  Why did we give thanks before meals, pray before bed, talk about our problems and apologize, talk to God and about Him with one another?  Was it just so I could wear pretty dresses once a week?  Was it strictly out of social obligation?  Was it because our grandparents expected it or to escape the gates of hell?  Why did we "leave" the local catholic church, anyway, and how is it we wound up in the different kinds of churches since then?  How come some people danced and clapped their hands while others were solemn? 

One attribute I wholeheartedly embrace as a middle-child is that of peace maker.  I will believe the best in you to a fault, and so, I imagine that next to historical conviction, my parents raised me with faith not to cram their own beliefs down my throat or so us girls would fit a mold and be perfect, but so we would always hear from them and know from God that God is good, God made us, He loves us without condition and wants us to love others the same way because life is complicated, messy, and painful, and that He will come back for us one day, which is a good thing, not scary.

I've heard there are worse things parents can do to a child...I'm grateful my parents chose this form of "abuse" as some would see it. 

How tragic...a child was raised with loving parents who made mistakes and were learning it as they went along seeking Wisdom smarter than themselves, but deep down, at the end of each day, knew God was real even though she couldn't see Him, and that He loved her.  For shame...

The peacemaker middle-child in me isn't a score keeper.  On our family faith journey we haven't always done everything right.  On my personal journey with the Lord, I couldn't even begin to tell you all the mistakes I have made...you can do the math:  I dedicated my life to serving the Lord on May 10, 1987...if on average I screwed up 3 dozen times a day, to be conservative, that adds up to a whole lotta thankfulness for Grace and Forgiveness, that's all I know.

Last night Emily and I snuggled on the couch and watched, "Parental Guidance."  All parents and kids should see this film together.  There are some fabulous lessons all around.  In one scene Billy Crystal and Marisa Tomei, father and daughter in the film, are in the kitchen late at night after the culmination of a weeks worth of fighting and disagreements and misunderstandings and major underlying passive aggressive anger from the past.  The film is a comedy, but I was bawling.  Tomei's character had set up her life in such a way to do everything opposite from the way her parents raised her, a clear statement to them that they pretty much sucked/aka she could do it better, without their help, and quite perfectly, thankyouverymuch.

There are things I have done differently as a young woman, mom, wife, and follower of Christ than my parents, and their parents, and their parents before them.  And I've done many things the same.  Good and bad, because I am a human.

I know I will make many more mistakes in parenting as long as I'm on this earth.  I've already screwed my kids up a little, I'll admit.  But if when they are older the worst thing they can say about me is that I prayed and asked God's help in how to show them how much I loved them, well, then, I'm willing to take that risk.  We cannot force our children to believe what we believe, and it very well may break our hearts if they don't, but we can love them...yep, that part is up to us.

Just make sure you love them with all of your guts...because holding some of your love back just because it may rip out your heart will only leave you never really knowing what it's like to fully live.

Where Lies Your Beauty?

Today, Em and Ry and I were walking through Walmart.  As we stopped to honk the bike horns on the aisle display, parked between youth men's clothing and the craft aisles, my eyes locked on the new Sport Illustrated swimsuit calendar, displayed right next to the Justin Bieber and Harry Potter posters.  Thankfully, come December 21st, all the "athletes" who purchased the calendar already, you know, for "sports" inspiration, oh wait, I mean for the articles, won't even get a chance to look at it each month.

photo "courtesy" of Sports Illustrated 2012 Swimsuit Issue #$%^&*

Tongue.  In.  Cheek.  If only the Mayans were right!  I'm looking forward to my destination...

This display, with two extra large calendars side by side, was at Ryan's eye level.  He was too busy honking the bike horns to notice.  Thank.  You.  Jesus.

However, Em's eyes went there and I caught it in the corner of my eye, taking mental note of her response.

We headed to the check out and then to the car.

Me:  Em, I know you saw that poster of the woman in a bathing suit.  What did you think about it?

Em:  I thought it was kind of weird.

Me:  Why did you think it was weird?

Em:  Why would you take a picture of a girl in a really small bathing suit like that?

Me:  There's a magazine called, "Sports Illustrated," that is supposed to be a magazine about sports.  You know, like football, basketball, baseball, soccer, tennis, swimming, lacrosse.  You know, sports.  But every year they have one publication dedicated entirely to women in their bathing suits.  What do you think about that?

Em:  What does that have to do with sports?

Me:  Uh-huh.  Who do you think might look at that particular magazine?

Em:  Someone who is kind of weird.

Me:  Actually, it could be anyone.  But do you think it's necessary or beneficial to the person looking at it?

Em:  No.  It could make them think all girls should look like that.

Me:  Some religions have gone to the extreme to make women cover themselves, as not to draw attention to their outward beauty.  There is nothing wrong with being beautiful.  God made us that way.  But there's a problem in our culture, in particular, Em.  Some women don't know they are beautiful.  They believe that what shows on the outside is what matters, and by wearing very little they will get the attention or approval of men.  Our culture has gone to the extreme by encouraging women to wear very little, focusing on our outward appearance.  What do you think about that?

Em:  I want people to know me and love me for who I am on the inside.

Me:  Yeah, me too.  There's nothing wrong with wearing a bathing suit, Em.  Please don't hear that.  What I'm trying to say, that's difficult to understand, is some people look at models and then compare themselves to them, wishing they were like them, assuming they are perfect.  Mommy felt badly about herself for years because I believed in my head those girls were prettier than me.  And, then other people might compare the people in their lives to the women in the calendar, wishing their wife or girlfriend was more like her.  Some guys then get feelings for the women in the magazine and want to be married to them, wishing they could have sex with them, instead of their own wife.  What do you think about that?

Em:  That's really sad.

Me:  Em, God made you.  He made all of us with unique gifts and strengths, and we are all beautiful.  It's the world that has tainted that beauty.  I mean, it's so messed up, Em.  Take, for example, chips.  Some companies have hired a beautiful woman with big boobs and very little clothing to eat chips in their commercial.  I'm not sure what that has to do with chips, but it sells because guys watching the commercial are drawn to the sexuality of the woman.  What do you think about that?

Em:  I think she ate too many chips and her boobs got fat.

Me:  (*note to self:  save breast implant conversation for another day...dear God!)

Me:  Em, the point is:  our beauty comes from inside.  Some people have tried to make women into objects of beauty, just by focusing on our outward appearance.  We are a bigger deal than just gorgeousness!  We are brilliant, smart, kind, and we can change the world!  Literally!  We are not simply objects and our beauty isn't just on the outside.  If it is, we're in big trouble because we get wrinkly and crunchy with time :)  There's nothing wrong with being beautiful, Em.  Period.  But do you think a guy looking at a magazine full of women who are barely covered makes him want to be a better man to God, his wife, and his kids?  Or to his future wife?

Em:  I think the calendar is stupid.

Walking, Part 2

My mom's not a huge fan of crowds but she wanted to do this walk.  She didn't want to stay for the closing ceremonies or anything like that.  She said walking together was her celebration, so that's just what we did.

Three generations, riding the Light Rail at the wee hours...HOW AWESOME DOES MY MOM LOOK?!?!

Sisters

"Bebe's Girls" (team name...)

This year we'll stay right...

Emily doing a cartwheel on Speer Boulevard over I-25

Granddaughters and their Bebe

A sea of thousands of people affected by cancer in one way or another...aka, thousands upon thousands of STORIES!

One Year Survivor at the Mile 1 Marker

A dude dressed as Pink Panther...he even had a British accent (not that PP ever talks, but whatever...)

A pom squad cheering us on...

"Give me a B!  Give me an O!  Give me another O!  Give me another B!"

Thank you to the Denver Police Department for blocking off traffic throughout the city in order for us to walk together!

Here, Em and I stopped.  I said, "Do you see all those people walking?  Look ahead of you, behind us, all around.  Do you know why they are all walking?  They are walking because their lives have been affected by breast cancer.  Every single person here has been affected by it, whether in their own body, as a friend, spouse, parent, child, sister, cousin, aunt, co-worker, grandparent...every. single. person. and they all have a story."

"I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back." The Message, Philippians 3:12-14

Front Row: Young Bevy Girls in the making...knowing the importance of time with other women and showing support!  Nice job, girls!

My mom is a strong, loving, and selfless woman.  I have a lot to learn from her.  I'm really proud of her and so grateful we were able to walk WITH her today!

"Goodnight Moon!"

On August 28th, our son Ryan turned 2 years old.

Dad was out of town so we celebrated officially once he was home that following weekend with family and friends and sort of allergen-friendly cupcakes...and balloons.  Lots and lots of balloons.

When Emily was 6 months old, we chucked her pacifier to the curb.  Not literally since that's littering, but you know what I mean.  But at 6 months, she didn't remember a thing, so it was a non-issue.

Well, fast forward and enter baby brother and mom's "Advanced Gestation," aka, mid-life pregnancy/crisis, and let's just say, I threw other things to the curb, like, say, rules on pacifiers and rigid sleep training and all the modern rules, like giving a rip what any book might say!  Yes, I "sleep trained" Ryan, but not quite as militantly as I had Emily.  And I've fed him very clean, which I didn't do as well with Em, but all of these things are partially a knee-jerk result of the 8 year gap, which is really only a 4 year gap, if you know what I mean...

What I'm sayin' is:  when your big brother dies, it both works in your favor and detriment as to how on earth your parents may "wing it" and raise you, accordingly.

So, ANYWAY, as far as a pacifier goes, I chose not to get my panties in a wad about it and let Ryan suck, suck, suck away.  At least until Daddy returned shortly after his 2nd birthday.

A reader here a while back, but I don't recall who, gave me the idea in the first place!  (Thank *you*!)

I prepped Ryan for about a month...

Me:  Ry, you are almost 2 years old and so that means you'll be BIG.  This also means you won't be sucking your pacifier any longer.

Ry:  (blank stare...while sucking...)

Me:  And, so, on your 2nd birthday, we are going to tie your pacifier to some balloons and send it to the Moon.  Every night when we go to bed you can look out the window and tell the Moon and your pacifier, "Goodnight!"

Ry:  (sucking voraciously...staring with possible, no, probable, comprehension...)

Me:  So, it'll be so great, Ry!  We'll wave bye-bye as it goes up, up, up to the Moon and you'll be BIG and won't need it anymore!

Ry:  (eyes wide as saucers now...)

Now, let me preface this to say that one of my dear, dear friends who also lost a child encouraged me as I let Ry suck away for 2 years, "OH!  Don't take away the one thing that brings him comfort!"  And that's exactly what I did.  I didn't lose sleep or worry about it, because, of course, there's always braces, right?!

But there's more to the story...

You see, Ryan, our son, is named after his Daddy's good friend, Dr. Ryan Arnold.  And Dr. Ryan Arnold was an exceptional orthodontist.  And Dr. Ryan Arnold would have been our kids' orthodontist, but he passed away living selflessly.  The week before Dr. Ryan Arnold passed away, he examined Emily's teeth and gave us a loose plan of how we'd move forward with her bite and such...and, since I was pregnant and he never actually SAW our Ryan's mouth, he left me with these words, "Ade, don't let your kid suck a pacifier...but if you do, I'll fix it later..."

And then he smiled his great smile, which, incidentally, was straight and white...

Nice.

Nice, except Jason and I are taking "Financial Peace University" right now and let's just say several thousand dollars for Ryan's braces could, indeed, be used for his education one day, or towards a vacation for me and the hubster, or supporting a hospital in Ethiopia, or, or, or, I don't know, maybe getting out of debt!?  But that's another post...

So, anyway, back to "My Mom Rocks," and whatever it was I was saying...

Oh yeah.  So, here are some pics of the day Ryan's pacifier went to the Moon...the day he became a BIG boy...the day he saved us a few thousand dollars, or at least, the day his mom had peace in her heart that she was honoring a dear friend and finally taking the expert opinion of a professional.

RIP Pacifier.

Prepping Ryan that sending his pacifier to the Moon is going to be fantastic!  AKA, tickles with Daddy.

Running around at his birthday picnic, oblivious to what is to come...

Sharing a second birthday with his cousin, just days apart....

Daddy wearing his hat always in memory of Dr. Ryan Arnold...

The birthday picnic went a little late so the next morning we gathered what balloons remained...

Ryan willingly giving over his pacifier...

...sorta...let's just say he wanted one last suck...

...a suck that lasted a while...until the release.

The reality set in as he watched his pacifier set soar into the western skies.

It's been a week and a half now.  Naps on day one and two were a bit rough, but he has adjusted beautifully.  His teeth haven't straightened out, and he does point to his teeth and tongue when I put him down to sleep, but then he says, "Goodnight Moon!" and all is well.

So, let's face it:  we all have "pacifiers."  If you were to take to heart the sentiments of a selfless man, who was saying more to me than just the obvious, what "pacifier" would you give up?

* We miss you, Dr. Ryan Arnold, and think of you and your beautiful family, every. single. day.  xoxox

Little BIG Feet

If you don't know how much I love feet, scroll down to the bottom of this page...I'll wait...

Okay.  So, let me clarify, because by "love feet" I want to make sure it's clear which ones I mean:

• NOT stinky, sweaty, hairy, scaly ones
• BUT YES to: chewy, teeny, tiny, pink, plump, yummy ones

But seriously, I love the symbolism of feet.  Genetically we were designed to have two.  Whether we all have two or not, and whether they "work" or function as intended, doesn't disqualify us for the symbolism of feet or not.

You see, you, or someone you know, may have really big feet or small, petite ones, but it's the footprint you leave that will make the lasting impression. 

Five years ago when Noah died, he had the smallest feet in the family, simply speaking size here.  However, his teeny, tiny, chewy, yummy, sweet little feet left the biggest footprint on my heart.  His little BIG feet caused me to re-evaluate life on many levels and got these size 8's on the move.  Not just to move around and add chaos to the world, but on the move to start living the way I was intended and Designed to live.

Do I do it right all the time?  Nope.  I'm a student on this earth...

I just met another mom that loves feet.  And by "loves feet" I'm not so sure Chelsea loves them the same way I describe above, but it's clear she loves the journey and makes the most of her treasured times with her husband and their 3 sons.  And though from reading her blog I can tell she loved them well prior to meeting her most recent little BIG feet, it seems, once again, that a sweet little boy with teeny, tiny, yummy toes has "walked" into her heart and brought about even more joy, life and perspective, through love and heartache.

I was able to meet Trek and his Mommy and Daddy yesterday here in Colorado.  I even got to snuggle her little lover in my arms for a brief moment, trying to give Chelsea a chance to eat her breakfast, but Trek knows his mama and I handed him back into her loving arms.

Trek needs your prayers.  And so do his parents.  And his big brothers.  And their family. 

I have a crush on him, I'm not going to lie.  He is one handsome guy who gave me a few smiles and just reading about how he came into the world and how his life is inspiring others to live, well, you can't help but get a bit wrapped around his cute little toes.

Trek has a genetic disorder, one they tested Noah for.  His parents are so brave and strong!  They are going to spend his beautiful days here on earth building memories as a family.  As they do, please keep them all in your prayers!

The size of your feet do not matter...it's the kind of footprints you leave here on earth that make a lasting impression!

And by "Busy" I mean...

This guy keeps me on my toes. He's napping now which has allowed me this brief moment to post a few pics and random thoughts.

This is his cupboard.

See.  He actually sleeps in there.  Kidding, kidding!  But it is his cupboard where, if he's not reading a book, throwing the dog her ball, trying to climb the stairs and walking around things, he's pulling out the unbreakable contents of this designated cupboard.

This drawer, the napkin drawer, and by "napkin" I mean 500, was not a designated drawer...except we hadn't put the latch on it yet, so Ryan found it and designated it napkin party central!

These are actually Jason's shooting ear pluggy cover thingamaboppers, but Emily likes to put them on once in a while to drown out "background noise" aka, her little brother...Ryan just likes to put them on to look like a recording artist...or Bob the Builder...

When my little lover is contained in his booster chair, I'm able to breathe deep for the brief amount of time it takes for him to snarf down his food before he's onto the next adventure.

I can't imagine life without him!  I am so grateful God has allowed us the life we have lived thus far, the good, bad and ugly, in order to have met the kids we have, the one we don't anymore, and to gain the perspective that even in the day to day mundane, there is beauty, laughter, and meaning.

Okay, except that wasn't what I was going to post :)  But I'll leave it at that.  Grateful.  Thankful.  Busy but with good stuff.  Finding joy in the day to day.  Asking God to lead me by His Spirit so I'm not just doing things to do them or to please others, but to glorify God and walk in obedience to Him.   

Yeah, that...

What's in your man-cave?

So, I was reading Proverbs 31 for the millionth time the other day. I have a lot of thoughts on this wife and mom, but for this particular post, I will share what stood out on that day. First, here are the scriptures:

" 10A wife of noble character, who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. 11Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. 12She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life." Proverbs 31:10-12

Verse 11 is where I started jotting things down. The word "lacks" first jumped out at me. Followed by "value." I have a good friend that is a professional organizer. She has worked some modern day miracles in peoples lives, helping them purge and reorganize. She's even worked with big time hoarders. If I were to guess here, she helps clients determine what is of value to them, and then, with those things the client deems valuable, she helps put them in places where they are easily accessible. The things they are able to get rid of, those things that are simply taking up space, or lack value, they either donate or throw away.

It's all about creating margin. Space. Not only in their physical homes but in their hearts and minds. Less is more.

Now, in all fairness, if you dropped by my casa right now you'd witness my organized chaos and want to call my friend the organizer to tattle on me. Don't worry, she's knows :)

But that's not what I'm talking about here...

I looked up the definition of value. It talks of worth, both "material value" and "human value."

Which one is verse 11 addressing?

It's not difficult to realize that in light of eternity, the obvious answer is the eternal, Godly value of life and love. But the problem is, in America the land of excess, I think there is a big blur between our material and human values. I don't think it. It's rather obvious.

Do our husbands feel loved and have full confidence in us because their garages are chock full of man toys and their basements pimped to resemble something of an IMAX theatre? No. I mean, hopefully not. Hopefully if those things were swept away in an instant, you two would still have a foundation. (I'm not judging you if you have a lot of toys or a home theater. That's not the point.)

The point is, if two people without earthly possessions can fall in love and stay in love, isn't that man's life full? He lacks nothing because he has what is truly valuable. He has love. He has relationship. He has trust.

On earth, we can get caught up in a rat race of the realization that there will always be someone else out there with more stuff than us. Filling our lives with more stuff won't give us more value. Heck, even if you had an expensive house and genuine diamonds, were in all the right social circles and had loads of finances in the bank...if your heart was empty, your family distant, and your marriage a shell, compared to one of Jason's (my husband) moms in Bolivia whose home is made of mud and wardrobe made up of two articles, but she has food on her table and beautiful children laughing and running around, well, it's not hard to see which husband has value and which one is trying to fill his life with meaning.

Having lost a child it's not difficult for Jason or me to not attach heartstrings or value to things.

Life is short. People are God's very creation, an expression of Himself to share His love with the world.

And as moms, our children are only with us for a short time. That time is valuable. And, their lives are priceless. I guarantee that if you give your kid a hug and kiss and tell them how very special they are to you, they will feel so much more valued than if their toy box is full and they wear the latest fashions.

I know I have a lot of margin to create in my home. I have a list of projects that include purging, cleaning, donating and organizing. But when Jason comes home from his blessing of a job, arriving in his paid for car, to our beautiful house, he doesn't hug the wall and kiss the television and the Blue Ray. Instead, he puts his computer bag down, tries to calm the spastic dog, crosses the kitchen to give me a kiss and then embraces and loves on his sweet kids that he hasn't seen in hours.