Dinglefest: And the festival continues...

thankful that God has confirmed many things for us lately

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 05:10:00 +0000

I know I've been MIA over here until the past week, but I thought I had mentioned our upcoming move before. Maybe I didn't, given the number of questions I've gotten about my mention of it in our last post, so here goes...

Back in May, I shared our plans for adoption with y'all. And at the end, I mentioned that we were planning on staying in our current home forever and ever, amen. Right after I posted that, I told Lee, "You know, now that I've declared this publicly, this means we'll end up moving." That's how it tends to go with us. God is concerned about shaping our hearts in the process, so going through the process of buying a home we thought we'd stay in forever and making renovation plans to add space was beneficial.

But.

He has led us to change those plans. In June, Lee's sister and her husband were looking at homes in the area, and I started helping them. In doing so, Lee and I started finding houses in our price range that were larger and closer to all our frequently visited places (work, church, schools, etc.). We waffled about the idea for a while and, while praying about it, focused our efforts of wrapping up little projects here and there to get our house ready to sell if we did... or to enjoy ourselves if we didn't.

Long story short, we decided that we would move toward selling and wait to begin the adoption process until we're in a new home. A lot of factors weighed in, but one was my health. We actually expected to have the house on the market by October, but my body changed our plans.

In September, my knee gave out, a result of rheumatoid autoimmune disease (which is a term my friend Kelly is advocating for, since it's more accurate than "rheumatoid arthritis").

In October, I had knee surgery.

In November, the breathing problems I've had on and off in the past couple years became much worse.

In December, I was diagnosed with asthma, most likely due to RA lung damage though we won't know that for sure until I see a pulmonologist. (Hi, my name is Shannon, and I'm addicted to specialists.)

Some wonderful news in all this is that the RA damage is not continuing. My IV meds have it under control. The knee and lung issues are the result of RA damage that occurred in the year before I was diagnosed and the year after that when we couldn't start strong treatments because I was pregnant with Robbie and recovering from childbirth.

But isn't it neat how God confirms things for us? You see, one of the reasons for the planned move was that a three-story house for a woman who has a chronic disease that can affect her joints and lungs and heart... well, that's just not the smartest plan. It has become clear to us that we need a home that will work for us, even on my bad days. We had already determined that we wanted our new home to be wheelchair accessible so that we can host all of the families we get to know and love through our church's special needs ministry, and it could turn out that I need that level of accessibility someday too. (Given the success of current treatments, that's not expected, but the prognosis for RA was much bleaker 15 years ago and the meds that work so well for me now have only been out for that long, which means that long-term side effect aren't known. That makes it much more comforting that we worship a God who does know all that this life will hold, doesn't it?)

My recent health issues have confirmed adoption as the right next step for adding to our family too, because another pregnancy would require us to stop my meds. Any prolonged break in treatment makes it more likely for my body to reject the medicine whenever I'm ready to restart it, plus stopping meds means that the damage we've stopped would likely start again.

But the cool thing is that God set adoption on our hearts before we got married. Our premarital counseling surveys are in a box somewhere, but I remember that in response to a question about how many kids we wanted, we both wrote that we hoped to have a couple of biological children and then adopt. For us, adoption was never our plan B. It was and has always been part of plan A for our family. God has just used my health circumstances to confirm that.

So next step, get this house on the market next month. Then, sell it and find another house and buy that one and move. And then get underway with adoption plans.

Please pray for us. In my ideal world, we'll get an acceptable offer the first week our house is on the market and have time before closing to find the perfect-for-us home to buy so that the whole process will be as brief and painless as possible and we can move full speed ahead with the adoption plans. I know that's not the most likely scenario in the current housing market, so you can either pray that everything will go according to my ideal scenario or that God will sustain us through the different scenario He has in store. :)

And also pray for us as we research a tough topic related to our adoption plans. I wish I could share more than that cryptic comment, but I can't yet, except to say that God has drawn us to consider something we hadn't considered before and that we need to be bathed in prayer.

Thanks, y'all.

There IS a right choice for schooling your child.

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 16:11:00 +0000

When Lee and I were considering school options for Jocelyn for kindergarten next year, everything was on the table. Homeschooling. Christian private school. Secular private school. Traditional public schools. Magnet schools. Charter schools.

We sought to talk to parent friends of ours who had school-aged children, hoping to learn from their choices and experiences. What did we learn?

That there IS a right choice for us, but there ISN'T one single right choice that applies across the board to every family.

That's where this blog post title comes in. I do think there's a right choice for schooling your kid. I just don't think the right choice for my family and the right choice for your family have to be the same thing.

I had a great conversation in the church hallway with another mom last Sunday. We have made different choices for next year, but we were still able to encourage one another. It was nice.

And, sadly, I think sometimes that sort of thing can be rare.

I think as each of us are convinced of the right choice for our own families, we can erroneously project that right choice onto other families. We live in a culture that increasingly preaches "what's right for you isn't right for me." And while that relativism can be dangerous in many areas, I think we need a healthy dose of it when we enter the slippery territory of comparing parenting choices that aren't laid out in scripture.

Are all parents responsible for teaching the truth of Christ to their kids and discipling them in God's word? Yes.

Will that happen in the same ways, at the same times, and through the same means in every family? No.

And what choice have we made? Well, I wish I had an answer. We are participating in the public school choice process, and we know which school we would like. We also know that we really, really, really don't like the other options. If we get the school we'd like, then Jocelyn will probably start in public school in the fall. If we get our choices two through five, we don't feel comfortable sending her to those. In that case, we'll apply for a transfer - listing our number one school as well as another one that isn't an option for us right now - and then, if necessary, go through the appeal process. (We are planning to move this year, but our number one choice would be the same, no matter where we live, because of the Spanish language program it offers. In other areas, though, we could have applied for that school as a magnet program last month, whereas that wasn't an option in our area since it's on our proximity list instead.)

(Let me pause our regularly scheduled program to explain: Our ~~oh-so-helpful~~ ~~unbalanced~~ ~~ridiculous~~ ~~ignorant~~ school board put a plan in place that gives each family a list of schools in proximity to their local address, a system that under the guise of "neighborhood schools" ensures that kids in each neighborhood will likely be divided among many schools. They've done this while also failing to communicate details clearly so that only the most educated and informed parents understand the process. I could continue on that rant, but let's get back to the process... For kindergarteners, we each have to rank at least five schools in order of preference. Our address's list only includes five schools, though, so I have to rank all our options. The choice period opened yesterday, but it doesn't end until late February, so we won't know anything for a while. The magnet school selection period was in December and those families have been notified, but any school on your address's proximity list doesn't appear as a magnet option for your family, even if it is a magnet option for other addresses.)

Homeschooling? Honestly, that's where we thought we'd end up. But now? We're open to it, especially if Jocelyn gets placed in a school we don't like and if none of our other options (including a couple of charter school lotteries we're considering) work out, but it seems that God is leading us toward public schooling. We aren't closing the homeschooling door with absolute certainty, but due to my health and a few other reasons, that's not the direction we expect to go.

And private school? Setting aside financial concerns, we've decided that we're not comfortable sending our kids to a school in which kids with disabilities aren't welcome, and that's the reality for most of the private school options in our area and all of the ones we think would be a good fit otherwise for our family. We spend a lot of time and energy working to eliminate barriers to church involvement for families with special needs, and it seems incongruous to us to spend our time doing that while supporting (albeit, passively) similar barriers in a school setting, particularly in a Christian school setting. (I don't share this to say that it is wrong to send your child to private schools that exclude kids with disabilities, just that we've decided that it would be the wrong choice for our family.)

So, yep, I do think there's a right choice for your child. And I think that choice could change from year to year. Shoot, it could even differ from kid to kid within a family, though I hope that's not the case for ours because I like the idea of keeping them in the same schools if possible.

Whatever your family's choice may be, I hope we can each encourage one another.

PS - The book Chasing Elephants: Wrestling with the Gray Areas of Life by Brent Crowe is an exceptional one about biblically working through issues in which a universal right choice is unclear (and about figuring out what areas are truly gray areas vs. ones that do have a clear black and white in God's word).

PPS - My friend at New Every Morning wrote a post on a similar topic at the beginning of the last school year: Calling a Truce. I highly recommend it.

my husband, the comedian

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 00:41:00 +0000

Alternate title: Because some things just don't fit on the other blog, you get them here.

(By the way, I do have intentions of posing here more frequently, as we're winding down home projects in anticipation of selling our house to move elsewhere in the City of Oaks. No promises or timelines, but I've missed this place. anywho...)

I showed Lee this logo and told him I liked it.

He said, "You have the love for wheelchairs?"

"No, no, no..."

"You love people who are seated?"

Sigh. Eye roll.

"Oh, I see it. You used to have love and then someone sat on it."

"Just go away. Now."

"I, too, am available to speak at conferences!" he boasted proudly, assuming a Superman stance (minus the cape, spandex, and letter on his chest, of course).

To which I, in true ~~tongue-in-cheek~~ ~~Ephesians 5:33~~ Proverbs 32 fashion, responded, "I wonder why you haven't been asked to speak at any yet."

Unperturbed, he confidently replied, "I am undiscovered talent."

one another

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 15:28:00 +0000

I'm not going to lie: it's been a rough and wild week. This time last week I was at the park celebrating sweet Leiana's third birthday, and a couple friends asked if I was nervous about surgery the next day. I said no, that God had given me peace and an attitude of praise, because getting in for surgery this early was a magnificent answer to prayer.

I am glad God had me resting in his perfect peace before surgery, because I had to cling to it with desperation in the past week.

The pain was more intense than I expected. The swelling was more widespread than I anticipated. And the lack of mobility was more extensive than I imagined. And I certainly didn't expect Robbie to have a bad case of croup on Saturday night.

But the outpouring of love and prayers and meals and childcare and ministry leadership from friends held me up, in the way that Aaron and Hur upheld Moses' hands in Exodus 17. And I did something different this time around than I have in previous health crises:

I.
Accepted.
Help.

I don't do that well, y'all. It's been one of the greatest challenges to my faith because I don't like having to rely on or trust anyone but myself. Even God. I could psychoanalyze myself to explain where that came from, but I already paid good money to do that in counseling the year before Lee and I got married so we don't need to go there.

When I had c. diff and had to crawl from my bed to the bathroom because I was so sick, I wouldn't let Lee carry me. And when Norma called to check in and offer to bring a couple of things during that time, she had to verbally strongarm me into accepting help. Other friends - during that trial and others - offered help, and I did my best to graciously rebuff them.

I secretly liked the set-up of my old Sunday school class' meal sign-ups because no one asked if I needed help. If they did, I wouldn't have accepted. They just provided meals - first, when I had back surgery, and later when each of the kiddos was born.

(To be honest, I did - in a postpartum freak-out as I realized we weren't getting meals the first week after Robbie was born - practically accost the gal coordinating them to beg for a meal that week because I couldn't see straight in the midst of the hormones. And I don't think I've ever apologized for that. Caitlin, I am sorry I was such a jerky basket-case that week, and thank you for helping to coordinate meals for us anyway.)

My point is this: (wait, did I have a point? Oh, yes, now I remember...) God didn't design us as islands made of flesh. The Bible is filled with one anothers. I'll be pulling some of my next memory verses from this webpage listing a plethora of those one another verses, like:

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. (John 13:34)

Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. (Romans 12:10)

Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord (Ephesians 5:19)

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. (Hebrews 10:24)

Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the churches of Christ send greetings. (Romans 16:16)

(Don't worry. I'm not planning on planting any holy kisses on anyone but Lee.)

It has occurred to me this week that I've only thought about one side of these verses: the exhortation to do for the one anothers in my midst. There's another side that I didn't realize until this week: the need to receive from others. On other words, the need to - on occasion - be the one another.

(You can go through old posts to check if you'd like, but I'm pretty sure that paragraph wins the prize for most uses of "other/another" in less than four sentences in Dinglefestland.)

If no one listens, there's no point in sharing songs and psalms and spiritual songs. If no one is willing to move toward good deeds, there would be no point in spur one another on. If no one is willing to receive the acts fueled by devotion to one another, then that devotion would dry up.

We each need to be willing to give to one another and receive from one another for it to work.

Thanks, sweet friends, for giving to me this week with your prayers, comments, messages, calls, meals, gifts, and love. We are thankful, and God has used you to teach me much.

it's a good thing she's good at what she does

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 00:09:00 +0000

because if not, I'd probably hate my physical therapist by now. Today I learned from her:

that my knee has a MRSA infection. (Woohoo, more antibiotics!!! And praying, praying, praying that we won't have to do surgery again to deal with this.)

that my hips are funky and that we'll be working on that in a future session.

that my other kneecap - on the so-called good knee - is out of alignment and prone to needing this sort of surgery in the future. (I already had figured that one out, but it didn't help to hear it out loud.)

that even though I'm already making good progress in range of motion, physical therapy is going to be a rough road.

Instead of concerning myself with all that, I'm washing down my hard-core, MRSA-killing antibiotics with this loveliness.

Thanking God for my Bible study leader who fed us well tonight (with lasagna and salad and bread in addition to the pie!), even though my four-year-old admonished her for parking in "my Daddy's spot in the driveway" and declared "I think we're going to have to put a sign up so no one ever does that again."

Nicely done, Jocelyn. "Thank you" would have sufficed.

when you give a girl a camera...

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 08:37:00 +0000

(that is, a certain 4.75 year old. not me.)

she will show you new angles of herself, her doll, the house, and the backyard...

...and she will entertain herself for hours on a car ride with Daddy to Charlotte (and he won't even know what she was doing until you look at the pictures she was taking right behind him).

Choosing joy.

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 18:26:00 +0000

When I was first diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, I found that my blog encouraged new and old friends in a whole new way. One of my favorite passages in scripture is Daniel 3, and my heart's desire is to reflect the same trust in the same God that Hananiah, Azariah, and Mishael trusted. He is wholly trustworthy, even when my joints are not.

Today I wrote on my disability ministry blog that I don't want to be noticed for my limp but that I don't mind people noticing the limp if they notice my God in the process. While I would love for you to check out that post, I also wanted to come back here to talk a little more personally.

It's been a tough week. A week and a half ago, I was considering going on a mile run in the beautiful weather. (I didn't, thankfully.) The next day my knee started acting up, not from an active RA flare but from previous damage to bone and cartilage caused by previous flares and a few injuries from my childhood. By Saturday, my knee started painfully locking into a straight position. Sunday morning I broke down in tears at one point, frustrated that my mobility was limited when I really wanted to poke my head into a few Sunday school classes to check on some of my kids. (And by "my kids," I mean the ones who are supported by Access Ministry. I can't check on Dingle kids on Sunday morning without having them cry to join Momma!) By Monday, I was nearly ready to make reservations for a pity party: Shannon, party of one, please. On Tuesday, I had steroids injected into my knee, and I'll spend Saturday morning in an MRI tube to figure out which (probably surgical) option we'll be considering next.

Since Saturday, I've been fighting against the pity party. I know it won't do any good, but it's still enticing. A few friends have been on their knees on my behalf, fighting that pity party desire for me. And I am thankful.

Something happened last night to change that. I'm not fighting the pity party anymore.

Don't worry! I'm not giving in, either. I just don't desire a pity party now. It's not tempting to go there anymore.

You see, I could count on a blogger I've never met to help me get out of my pity party mode in the past. Sara wrote for {in}courage, but she also has another blog called GitzenGirl. Sara's disease, Ankylosing Spondylitis, has a lot in common with rheumatoid arthritis. In fact, AS and RA are much more similar than RA and osteoarthritis are, so much so that my friend Kelly (aka RA Warrior) is hoping to get the name of RA changed so that "arthritis" isn't even in it. RA, like AS, is systemic but also affects specific joints; both can wreak havoc in specific spots as they weaken the rest of your body as well. And both are treated with the same arsenal of drugs, like my trusty Remicade.

Sara is allergic to the effective drugs that sustain me, though, so the disease just runs its course for her. Her breathing is labored, her movements cause pain, and her immune-related allergies have flared to the point that she can't go outside. Not for a walk, not to get the mail, nothing. She can't even open the windows to let fresh air in or feel a breeze on her face. This has been her reality for years.

Yet the tagline of her blog is Choose Joy, and she chose the word praise as her resolution word to define 2011 for her.

And it will, my friends, in a way she couldn't have known when she chose it back in January. You see, when I stopped by her blog yesterday for the first time in months, I was looking for encouragement. And I found out that Sara is dying. Hospice is there, and she probably won't see October from her current body.

But, praise God, she knows Jesus and has learned to trust and rejoice in him, despite harder circumstances than many of us will ever face. So praise will define 2011 for her, as she will soon praise our sweet Jesus face to face, able to breathe and move and laugh without pain or tears.

And I am so privileged to know her. And I can't wait to meet her in heaven one day.

My blog header will be changing soon in honor of what Sara has taught me. I'll be adding "choose joy" in the corner as a reminder to you, but more importantly as a reminder to me.

Because why would you ever choose a pity party when joy is the other option?

Thank you, Sara. Rest well. I will encourage others to choose joy while you praise Jesus beyond the walls of your earthly home and the confines of your sick body.

Interview time with Jocelyn

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 18:36:00 +0000

Because I want to be like Jenelle when I grow up (or, um, something like that) and because she posted this and because I loved it the last time I did it, it's interview time again...

What's your name? "Jocelyn, remember?"

How old are you? "Four. [pause] Mom, you know this stuff. What are you doing?"

What are you wearing right now? "A dress that is a nightgown sometimes too." (That's true. Sometimes she wears it as a dress, but sometimes she sleeps in it.)

What is your favorite…

Food? "Hot dogs. And ramen with a little water in it and sauce in the ramen."
Cereal? "Hmm, let me think ... pink squares! 'Cause that's a kind of cereal. Really, Mommy, it is. We just ate it a long time ago and that's why you don't remember." (I have no idea what she's talking about.)
TV Show? "I have a lot of favorites. My favorite is Arthur, Calliou, and Curious George, and the last one ... uh ... CyberChase."
Movie? "All my princess movies and The Incredibles."
Book? "All of my books in my room." (Yes, she is her mother's daughter. I can never answer that either.)
Song? "All the songs I know and can sing. Like Twinkle Twinkle, Rock-A-Bye Baby, and Lord, Compare Me." (Hmm, maybe we need to articulate the words to Sanctuary a little better: "Lord, prepare me/to be a sanctuary...")
Thing to do at home? "Have friends over and play in the backyard with them and play with the bubble machine."
Color? "Pink and purple and orange and yellow."
Toy? "All of my toys."
Disney princess? "I don't know because all of them are my favorites so I don't know."
Fast food restaurant? "The one with jelly. 'Cause, remember? Where we go-ed with Aunt Laurie? That's the kind of restaurant I like." (I have no idea what she's talking about! I guess I have to ask Aunt Laurie.)
Sit-down restaurant? "That's the one I was talking about, the one we go-ed to with Aunt Laurie and Uncle Jay." (Oh, Sweet Tomatoes is what she's talking about. She doesn't know what "fast food" means, though she has certainly eaten it before!
Game? "Dora princess game!" (It's a Wii game. Don't get it. She might like it, but I hate it.)

How much do you think the following costs…

New Car? "26" (Nope, no units.)
House? "36" (Maybe we should work on units of measurement.)
Milk? "Three dollars." (Okay, I feel better about the units thing now.)

Where would you go if you could go anywhere on vacation? "To the beach house or to the big city where we went to with Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Laurie and Uncle Jay."

What do you want to be when you grow up? "Remember, Mommy? Make movies! I want to be an actress."

If you could change your name, what would you change it to? "Lizzie Rose."

If you could have one superpower what would it be? "I don't know. The bubble one or a running fast one or the make storms one. Maybe...the bubble one to make big bubbles that get little when you touch them and it doesn't pop once you touch it."

If you could wish for anything and have it come true, what would your one wish be? "I wish I could get back in your belly and get small and then I fall out and then it will be my five birthday and we'll have a party." (Yes, her wishes are to return to the womb and to turn five. I don't know what to say about that.)

And, as a reprise of last year's questions (see her previous answers here!)...
My dad is 30 years old. (Yep! It's his birthday today.)
He weighs 260 pounds. (She ran to the scale to consult it. And he's put on a bit of weight if she's right!)
His hair is black like Mommy's, and his eyes are maybe the same as mine.
He likes to relax by laying down and stopping doing stuff and maybe falling to sleep.
When my dad shops, he loves to buy all the things we don't have.
His favorite TV show is Mommy and Daddy ones. (In other words, not cartoons.)
I make him happy when I love him.
I really love it when he makes me happy.

My mom is past Daddy years old. (Nope, still rocking my 20s for ten more months!)

She weighs 500 pounds. (Wow, I've put on some weight!)

Her hair is the same as Daddy's but not curly, and her eyes are the same as mine.

She likes to relax by falling asleep.

When my mom shops, she loves to buy peanut butter and jelly.

Her favorite TV show is Mommy and Daddy ones. (In other words, not cartoons.)

I make her happy by loving you. And I make you sad by being angry.

I really love it when she makes me happy.

I love her. :)

How good the book! (How Huge The Night)

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 21:16:00 +0000

This book is on my list of top young adult book of all time, near the top if you limit it to modern works. (Most of my favorites in this genre are classics.) If you teach adolescents or teens – or if you, like me, are an adult who likes to read their books – do yourself a favor and get How Huge the Night by Heather Munn and Lydia Munn. I think words like well-written and encouraging and inspiring and thought-provoking are thrown around too often in book reviews, but this one truly is all of those things.

(Heads up, though, that this is overtly Christian, so it would be a no go for my public school teacher friends. Sorry! I still think you should read it, though.)

I love YA fiction, but I’ll be the first to acknowledge that much of it is trash (Twilight, anyone?) and that the bar drops significantly lower when you add “Christian” before YA. Another strike against my expectations for this book was the time period; I’ve read plenty of mediocre fiction about WWII and the Holocaust. But, because the blurb seems compelling enough and because I was itching for a little escape fiction, I agreed to review it.

And my expectations? They were all so far off-base that I can’t even see them from here.

At one point, I expected to gripe a little in this review about the authors’ two-dimensional depictions of all the good guys as great and bad guys as terrible...and then they twisted the story in such a way that no only turned that concept of its head but also convicted me of arrogance and self-righteousness at the same time as the main character was convicted of the same. While there is certainly evil in this book, being set in WWII and including some Jewish characters dealing with the effects of Nazi hatred, the more subtle evils in every man’s (and woman’s) heart is revealed, much in the same way as Nathan’s “you are that man!” speech to King David in 2 Samuel 12:7.

Furthermore, it is rare for two women authors to capture and characterize adolescent boys in a rich and realistic way, but the Munns did just that. I do think that some aspects of one of the two parallel storyline was a little under-developed, but I don’t think I would have noticed that if the well-developed one hadn’t been so exceptional. At one point, the gospel of Christ is presented, but it is done so in a natural way that is logical to the story – starkly different from the forced, contrived passages that often show up in Christian fiction and seem hastily shoved in to add a little more religious content.

I was frustrated by one major misstep, but that was probably the fault of the publisher and not the authors. On the back of the book, it states, “Soon after [event A], [event B happens].” I’m leaving out the specifics, because it gave too much away. Plus event A happened on page 21, while event B doesn’t happen until page 222. In any book – particularly one that is 304 pages – you can’t say “soon after” if the lapse between the events is 201 pages!

All in all, this is a coming of age story for a young Christian boy and his friends who are living in a small town in southern France before and during Hilter’s occupation of the country. And it’s a very, very, very good one.

Many thanks to Kregel Publication for providing this for my review. They did not ask for a positive review, just an honest one.

recent thoughts...

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 15:14:00 +0000

No organization here, just some things I've been thinking about lately (plus some hints at other posts coming in the next couple weeks)...

1) Today I'm ranting about injustice on The Works of God Displayed. It's written more in the style of this blog than that one, so if you're read this one, you'll probably want to check it out.

2) Robbie began throwing up on the way home from church on Sunday evening. And then pitifully looked down at himself and looked up at me and said, "It a lot of yuck, Mommy. A lot of yuck," in a distressed tone. Thankfully, he is running and jumping and bouncing today after 36 hours of tummy bug and fever.

3) We've re-prioritized house projects so that we have everything downstairs in order before we even consider expanding to add two bedroom to the third floor. And, while I posted a few weeks ago about our plans to stay in this house indefinitely, part of the reason for the re-focus is that we're toying with the idea of moving to a larger home closer to Lee's office and our church instead of making more room in our current home. (A new house would also ideally have a first floor master so that I can avoid stairs when my joints are flaring badly.) Finishing projects downstairs will make it so our house is ready to sell if we decide to go that route.

4) Today, though, I'm feeling more like we'd be better off staying put. Our neighbors are wonderful, and Jocelyn is hanging out with one of them and "helping" her with her chores so that Robbie and I can rest. So right now I'm feeling like we can only move if there are two houses available on a new street so that our neighbors can move with us (and then, of course, we'll need to convince them of that...).

5) I have a handful of book reviews, ranging for a quick evangelism book for adults to a young adult novel set in southern France during WWII to a kids' picture book, coming this week. And then next week's posts will be brought to you by Jocelyn's photography skills.

6) Overheard in our car a couple weeks ago:
Lee: "So who's the dead person this time?" (referring to my Kindle, which has screensavers that frequently consist of pictures of authors...dead authors, that is)
Me: "Virgina Woolf."
Jocelyn: "Why's she not alive anymore?"
Robbie: "Because she's dead."

7) I love this post and how it relates to parenting. Yes, it is from the Onion News Network, but satire is one of my love languages: Very Lenient Umpire Tells Base Runner Next Time He Gets Tagged He's Out

8) And thank goodness I'm not applying to college right now. A tweet as an essay? I had trouble keeping college essays under the word limit; 140 characters would not have been enough for my word-loving soul.

9) I am really, really excited about our church's new Sunday school curriculum for little ones through high school.

10) I am very, very, very much looking forward to my IV on Thursday. My joints need meds. And I'm nearly at peace with the idea of moving my IV cycle from every eight weeks to every seven and adding a second drug (well, replacing the current second drug with a different, stronger one). Nearly at peace, so please pray, y'all. And I'm very, very, very thankful for insurance, because my meds would put us back $45,000/year if we didn't have insurance.

11) I like Google+, but I'm not sure I can handle another social media option. Either it needs to dominate something else quickly, or it's not going to stay on my radar.

the post that my son might not appreciate someday

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 15:48:00 +0000

When you have a son and a daughter, particularly when the daughter is older than the son, it's a good idea to let her know proactively what the rules are for playing dress-up with her brother.

Yes, he's crying. One day he'll tell people that he was crying because his sister had the gall to put him in a dress.

On that day, you can decide for yourself whether to let him run with that story or to share the truth.

You see, the sobbing began when I started to take the dress off.

And he cried, "Nooooooooooooo, Mommy, I playing dress up with Jocy. Jocy say I priiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitty!"

Yes, this is a typical day in our house. And I love it.

Endless supply of laughter!

wordless wednesday: why my husband is making wood brackets for the curtain rods

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 18:18:00 +0000

flashback friday: in nana's yard

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 12:00:00 +0000

Mother's Day this year

March of 2010

Once again, this year

And about 15 months ago

My girl is missing AWANA already

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 11:00:00 +0000

Jocelyn loved being in AWANA this year. I'm excited that Robs will be able to join her next year too! (And I may stay home to work on special needs ministry stuff without interruptions. What a thought!)

Honestly, I think the biggest reason she is missing AWANA has to do with missing this girl. She was the youth helper in Jocelyn's class, and she loves her "big girl AWANA teacher friend" (Jocelyn's words, not mine).

Perhaps I need to get together with my sweet friend Tracey to get our two oldest girls together for a playdate.

to grandmother's house we went

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 19:18:00 +0000

Or, more precisely, to Nana's house. Because my grandmother thought "Grandma" sounded too old lady-ish and opted for "Nana." (Which I think sounds waaaaaaaaaaaay more old lady-ish, but whatev. But, for the record, I will not be "Nana" to any grandchildren who might be in my future.)

After lunch with her and my dad, we swung by TJMaxx. Lee and I misunderstood the suggestion to pick out an outfit for each of the kids, assuming she would be buying it since she asked us to do so. Um, no. But by the time we realized that, my daughter - who already has enough clothes to cover half of Africa - had fallen in love with a new outfit. And Robbie had found a dinosaur outfit.

And so it goes.

{Thank goodness it was TJMaxx and not some fancy schmancy store.}

But she is darling in her new getup, don't you think?

And, yes, in case you're wondering, it is a size too big. She is indeed holding the skirt so it doesn't fall off.

And her little brother? Well, he wasn't changing. Not even for a dinosaur outfit. Because when he put his button-down shirt on that morning, he smiled, looked up, and said, "Mommy, I look good. I look real good. I wearing buttons like Daddy."

Melted. my. heart.

And he loves big sis so much, often following just like this.

I can understand, though, Jocelyn is a pretty cool kid.

I love Nana's yard. I did as a kid. I do now.

Especially because the lighting and colors show up so nicely on film.

Oh, and the scrape on Robbie's chin? He woke up with it.

We have no idea how it happened. It's kind of like when that psycho chick Michelle woke up with a black eye on the last season of The Bachelor.

(Um, yes, I did just make that reference. Don't worry, I'm hanging my head in shame already. No need to mock me any more than I'm already mocking myself. I had a moment of weakness once a week during that season. Thankfully this summer it's The Bachelorette, which I never like as much. And which is about one of my least favorite girls from last season, so the temptation factor is muy low.)

Now back to my children. Aren't they darling?

And doesn't this just make you want to have a swing like that in your yard?

But they weren't content to stay there.

And Robs is following. Again. <3

And then taking off on his own. Watch out! It's TurboRobs!

Have I mentioned that I love this swing?

I don't know what Lee just said before he took this picture, but it must have been funny!

And I have no idea what was going on here.

I love this shot, though. (Not the crazy one above, the cute one below!)

(Yes, we did bring Napoleon. No, we are not those crazy folks who think that it's appropriate to bring a dog with you anywhere. Those folks annoy me. We just bring ours where he's invited. And Nana loves him.)

I love my fur-son.

And, of course, I love my human babies too!

the post in which I convince you I'm crazy

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Fri, 27 May 2011 19:03:00 +0000

I have mentioned adoption here before. I even included our intent to adopt in our family Christmas letter this year. I’ve just never provided a whole lot of details.

Because I usually don’t want people to think I’m crazy.

And usually adoption makes people think you’re a little crazy. We’ve gotten some of those looks. Even before revealing that we’re not planning to adopt a baby and we’re not planning to stop at one. You know the ones, the looks that people give you during your first pregnancy. The she has no idea what she’s getting herself into looks.

And I didn’t when I became a mom. No conversation or book or website or other resource could have adequately prepared me. It’s a lot of learning as you go with the guidance of others who have gone before you. And a lot of prayer. A whole lot of prayer.

So do we know what we’re getting ourselves into? No. Are we a little crazy? Yes. (But let's all be honest and admit that that’s going to be true whether or not we adopt.) Do we know what we’re getting ourselves into? Probably not. Scratch that. Definitely not.

Throughout the Bible, God calls His people to do seemingly crazy things in his name and for his glory. The whole send the Son of God to earth to live a perfect life and die to defeat sin and rise from the dead to defeat death plan is a little crazy. I mean, imagine if you had never heard the Gospel before and someone told you that. It's not exactly in the realm of logic.

I’m not putting us on the same level of Christ. Certainly not! We’re confident, though, that he’s leading us in this particular sort of crazy, though. And we wouldn’t want to turn our backs on him to embrace the ordinary.

We knew as a couple, even before Lee proposed, that we wanted to adopt. It’s a longer and more personal story than I have space for here, but feel free to ask me about it offline. We began reconsidering that after Jocelyn was born, leaning instead toward having more biological kids instead of adopting as many as we had planned. However, through a series of circumstances, God has brought our hearts back to where He led them in the first place.

After a lot of prayer and research and prayer and conversations and prayer, we're willing to share where we stand in our plans right now. No guarantees that it won’t change, though, because God does his thing (the best thing!) in his time. However, I don’t think it’s unwise to share our plans, just as others aren’t shy about saying “ideally we want two kids” (or one kid or five kids or no kids). We trust that God is sovereign, and we'll be content whether or not his plans are the same as ours.

But since you asked (well, no, I suppose you didn't. but it's my blog, so I can pretend you did):

We are very likely done with pregnancies. My body could do it, but I lost bone in my joints during my last pregnancy, ended up with MRSA (which recurred seven times and once led to c. diff), and – in many ways – could say that I spent four years recovering from my first pregnancy. So, unless Lee manages to bear a child for us, I don't think we'll be adding to our count of biological kiddos. I’ll confess that while we think this is the best choice for us, our hearts are a little broken. I might tear up sometimes when I hold a baby, because a part of me wishes I could hold another of mine. But my heart is full, nonetheless.
We expect to adopt our third child internationally through Reece’s Rainbow, an international Down syndrome orphan ministry. Yes, this means that our third child will have some degree of disability. (If you're thinking this makes us crazy, please refer back to the title of this post.) When we were pregnant with Jocelyn, Lee expressed concerns that she might have special needs because, in his words, “God knows you, Shannon. He knows that you would be a great mom of a child with a disability I just don’t know if I would make a great dad.” He’s not sure in hindsight if he meant “a great dad of a kid with special needs” or just “a great dad” in general. I can vouch for the latter that he is. And now, the same guy who was worried about having a child with special needs is equally or more passionate about adopting one as I am. It’s not a pity thing or a duty thing; as cheeseball as it sounds, it’s a God thing. In the US, a kid with special needs and without a family goes to foster care; it’s not a perfect system, but it’s not always a bad one either. In many other countries, an orphan with special needs – particularly obvious, definitive ones like Down syndrome – is sent to a warehouse called an institution and given little more than basic care. Often the extent of the disability is irrelevant. The idea of welcoming them into families is unheard of. (As a related update, Kirill – the Russian boy I told you about a couple months ago – is now part of the Davis family. I think they should be returning to Alabama next week.) We will begin that process in a year and a half to two years, once our third floor has been converted from all attic space to two bedrooms and a bathroom.
Our fourth and fifth children will likely be a sibling pair from the foster care system. The oldest will probably be in elementary school. We are planning for them to be the youngest children in our family, so that adoption is further down the road considering that our current children are two and four. From the beginning of our conversations about adoption, our hearts were drawn toward older kids. I think it’s wonderful to adopt a child of any age, though, and I wouldn't turn away an infant if the stork dropped one on our doorstep. (What? That's not how it works? hmm.) That's just not the age group we're planning to pursue.

We have some other crazy plans, like our intent to stay in our home until we die (assuming God doesn’t move us out of Raleigh); based on our current payment schedule, that would make us mortgage free in a little more than a decade, but that’s not our only reason. It is cool to think about how we could invest that extra money in God's work, though!

I think I’ll leave the rest of the crazy for another time, though. If you can get past our insanity, would you pray for us?

Thanks.

hardboiled Easter eggs are so blah

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Wed, 25 May 2011 11:00:00 +0000

I never knew what I was missing until I decided to stay home (in Rio Grande City) for Easter instead of visiting Lee or my family during my first year as out of college. I was blessed with wonderful friends, Lori and Xavi, who invited me to join their family for the festivities.

I helped them hide the eggs, not noticing that they were lighter than eggs I had hidden in the past.

I made sure the kids had bags with which to collect their eggs.

I watched them and helped them as the egg collecting fun began.

And I was completely befuddled when Lori and Xavi and Xavi's siblings started telling me to collect some eggs. I couldn't understand why. The egg hunt is for kids. But, because they were being so hospitable, I humored them, convinced that they were crazy.

And then, as I placed an egg in my bag, I saw confetti out of the corner of my eye. What was *that*? I wondered.

Soon I would find out. These were not just any eggs. They were cascarones, hollowed out eggshells that were dyed, decorated, and filled with confetti, with tissue paper glued over the hole. As you collect eggs, you also smash them on each other's heads. Confetti and colored eggshell fill yards and neighborhoods and streets and your hair for at least a week.

This year we decided to postpone our trek to south Texas until the fall, which meant we would not find stand after stand of cascarones on the side of the road. In preparation for this, I began cracking eggs at the very top and saving the cleaned shells to make my own.

And we were able to share this wonderful tradition with two families who we love dearly.

We're already getting ready for next year. Who wants to join us?

The Greener Grass Conspiracy by Stephen Altrogge

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Tue, 24 May 2011 15:09:00 +0000

Lee and I returned Sunday from four days at the beach for a marriage retreat with our church. That even meant we were gone on Sunday morning, which marks the first Sunday away since we began coordinating special needs ministry. It was a delightfully sweet weekend, rejuvenating spiritually and physically.

Returning has been sweet too, particularly because all the laundry in our house was clean and put away when I left, the house was clean (my in-laws were staying here, so I scrubbed things I don't usually get to!), and our kiddos were extra cuddly after having missed us (though they had a blast with the grandparents). Also, I had an IV of six vials of Remicade on Thursday, which has fully kicked in now, making me feel like Superwoman compared to the 150-year-old woman I've felt like for the past few weeks. And, finally, the AC in my car is broken, so we're homebound for a few days while that get fixed, which gives joy to this homebody after I was away from home for a bit. I feel no pressure to be out and about at the store or museum or bouncy places or friends' houses.

I feel very content. More so than last week? I have to admit that the answer is yes.

One of the main points of Altrogge's book is that contentment isn't meant to be circumstantial. I have much to learn before I can say that I can be content in every situation, like Paul learned. (Praise God, though, that Paul says he has learned contentment, because that means there is hope for me to learn it too. Contentment doesn't came naturally, especially not to me!)

It's a light read, with humor and brevity, but it is incredibly powerful as well. I shared that power last week, and now I'll share some more quotes from Altrogge:

This book is not the memoir of a contented man. It's not the poignant reflections of a white-haired guru who has finally figured out the secret to contentment. It's more like sweaty bloody, hastily scribbled notes from a battlefield...I can see contentment in the distances, like a hazy oasis, but I have to pick my way through a minefield to get there. (Introduction, pg. 14)

(About Paul's words about contentment in Philippians 4:11-12) These words should startle us and cause us to catch our breath. Paul says that he has learned to be content in every situation. Not just the happy, comfortable, "why, yes, I will have another latte" situations. (p. 19)

...I really do live every days as if I were the center of the universe. I want each day to unfold in such a way that I receive maximum joy and happiness. I want all the circumstances and people in my life to contribute to my happiness. When something interrupts my wonderful plan for life, such as a crying baby at 2:00 A.M. or a sinus infection, I'm unhappy because this is my world and these kinds of things shouldn't happen in my world. I don't actually speak those words, but every day I'm tempted to believe them, live by them, and treat others according to them. (p. 21-22)

Discontentment is the result of misplaced worship. It's the result of giving our heart to someone or something that should never have it. (p. 37)

When we complain, we're loudly saying that the blessings of the gospel aren't enough. We're saying that the death of Christ isn't enough. We're saying that eternal fellowship with God, purchased at great cost to God, isn't enough to satisfy our souls. We're saying that forgiveness of sins and peace in God is nice, but not that nice...We're saying that God himself, who is the very definition of goodness, isn't good enough. We would like a little something more, if you don't mind. God plus [insert desire of choice] should do the trick. We we complain, we accuse God of being stingy, of not giving us enough. (p. 72)

When I complain, I'm declaring that I serve a helpless, bumbling God. That my life is out of control. That he hasn't been faithful. That he isn't using circumstances for good. I'm smearing God's character and forgetting his past faithfulness. I'm telling the world that God is a pathetic, disorganized deity who can't seem to get my life straight. I'm telling a lie about God. (p. 106)

And finally...

Discontentment begins when I start trying to be God. Discontentment happens when I attempt to displace God from his rightful place at the center of the universe. When I think that everything should run according to my plans instead of God's plans. When I forget that God is God and that he is allowed to do with me whatever he wants, whatever will bring him glory. Discontentment results from a big view of myself and a very little view of God. (p. 24)

Crossway provided this book for my review, but they neither asked for nor required a positive opinion about it.

the style of our home

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Fri, 20 May 2011 20:18:00 +0000

In the past year, we've changed a lot about how our house looks - the arrangement of furniture as well as the furniture itself and many elements of decor - and we're still in the process of doing so. Because I've become addicted to websites like Nesting Place, I've realized that I need to clarify what our goals are for our physical space. Otherwise, I'm tempted to be drawn into things that look pretty in someone else's home but that don't really work for us.

I'm not sure I've fully meshed out those goals, but here's the current working version of them:

I want our home to be a haven for my husband and our children. We're pretty laidback, so - for us - that means that comfort is key. And it also means that the arrangement of our home doesn't conflict with living our life, nor does the expense of decorating create hardship for us. And that means that I aim for my attitude in keeping our home to create a haven-like environment as well.
I want our home to be an inviting place. In other words, I want that haven to extend beyond our family. This most often means, in a practical sense, that I want my home to be tidy enough that I'm not embarrassed to invite others into it, even without much advance notice. This also means that while we aim for our home to show that we have small children in that we don't hide away all the toys (because that would violate my first aim, that of creating a haven for them), we also - in so much as is possible with two small children - aim to have places for toys to go so that they don't always have to be underfoot.
I want our home to reflect the hope we have in Christ. While this is only authentic when our attitudes and dispositions also reflect that, I like to have scripture and Christian symbols around our home in obvious ways. Not only does this display that hope to others, but it also encourages me because so much of our time is spent at home. Plus it helps us, in one way, live out these verses:

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.
You shall love the Lord your God
with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.
And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart.
You shall teach them diligently to your children,
and shall talk of them when you sit in your house,
and when you walk by the way,
and when you lie down,
and when you rise.
You shall bind them as a sign on your hand,
and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.
You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

Deuteronomy 6:4-9

My latest home addition was this Wood Carved Wall Hanging from Dayspring.

It will eventually hang below this plate and painting (also from Dayspring, found here), but I need to move them up so I can have all three hung at a height that it out of reach of my little guy.

The back allows it to be hung either way, and I don't know if there's a traditional way to do it. Should the fish's nose point left or right? Or do I just make an arbitrary call? Any suggestions?!?

What are your aims for your home? I would love to know!

Many thanks to Dayspring for providing this item for my review. Though they didn't ask for or require a positive post, I do love it!

The right words at the right (though unexpected) time

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Wed, 18 May 2011 16:14:00 +0000

I'll be posting a review tomorrow of Stephen Altrogge's fantastic book, The Greener Grass Conspiracy: Finding Contentment on Your Side of the Fence. I was planning for this post to be part of that review until I realized that what I have to share here isn't really about the book. It's about me.

You see, RA isn't obvious, and neither is my pain. Most of the time I'm not irked at that facet of my life being overlooked. I don't think I'm entitled to anyone's compassion, and I certainly don't seek pity. I realize RA isn't an illness that is noticeable. I know it doesn't affect as many people as cancer or AIDS. I get that it isn't a hot cause for research or funding.

And I'm okay with that.

What I'm not okay with is a dismissal of it as if it isn't that big of a deal. People have made comments like, "At least it's not cancer or anything." Yes, I am thankful it's not cancer, but really?!? During the month or two that I was in remission, it wasn't that big of a deal. But it can be painfully consuming when I'm not in remission land. And even when I'm in remission, the daily pills and bimonthly IVs give me a regular reminder that my body is not whole.

While I'm sad that my remission was short-lived, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for it because, as I wrote about here, three years of daily pain had worn on me. I've mentioned this before, but the latter part of 2010 was a struggle with depression. My body? I can handle that wasting away. It isn't meant to be eternal anyway. My hope, though? It is eternal. And as I focused on my circumstances instead of that hope, its glow in my life was dimmed. I loved Jesus, but I grieved my life. And I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until God rekindled the joy of life in Him here and now with sweet remission.

The remission didn't stay, but the hope did. I'm not living defeated like I was. Remission is a possibility. That helps me consider, in the words of Paul in 2 Corinthians 4, this to be “light momentary affliction…preparing for me an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” And though I wrote about the bad day when the remission ended here, it hasn't been all bad days since. And even when the days have been physically difficult, God has sustained my spirit in ways that I can't adequately describe, other than just telling you to read Ephesians 3:20-21.

And the days have been difficult. My IVs are spaced every eight weeks right now, but the meds wore off around week 6.5. We'll probably be changing my schedule to every seven weeks now because we're already at the top dose for my weight. (Which - by the way - had my doctor quipping one day: "Well, we can keep it at every eight weeks if you'll agree to eat more cake" to put on the extra eight pounds I would need to qualify for the next dose level. I haven't taken him up on that, but how many of you can say that your doc told you to eat cake?)

Thursday morning I get my next IV, and it will mark a week and a half of pain with each step and each turn of my head, given that my hips, knees, feet, and neck are affected this time around. (It will thankfully mark the end of that painful period, though, because the medicine takes effect quickly. I'll feel a little flu-like on Thursday night, but I'll be feeling wonderful by Friday or Saturday.)

I say all this to set the stage for reading the second to last chapter in Altrogge's book. I was soaking in a hot bath, because that's what I do in the evening when my meds fail me.I helps make the pain subside for a little bit. I wasn't glum, and I wasn't having a pity party. I was just enjoying the water and a good book. I didn't even know that the chapter that would make me sob was coming.

And then I got to (with the italics below added by me, not the author):

Chapter 11: The Furnace of Suffering

This chapter doesn't begin with a joke or clever illustration or mildly amusing personal story. In fact, I'm not sure where to begin, because this chapter is about finding contentment in the midst of suffering.

I've suffered very little in my life. No chronic illnesses, no tragic deaths, no world-shattering events. Yet.

But I've watched many people suffer in awful ways. There are men and women in my church wh have endured, and are enduring, fiery, world-twisting trials. Chronic arthritis that puts hot nails between every joint. Extreme, unrelenting, chest-squeezing financial pressure. The slow, fierce creep of Alzheimer's disease. The persistent joy-sucking gloom of clinical depression. Terminal brain cancer.

These friends are my heroes, because in the midst of suffocating suffering they still honor God. They don't curse God. They don't hate God. Yes, they weep. Yes, they have questions. Yes, they have days when it hurts to get out of bed. But they praise the Lord anyway. They bless the God who gives and takes away. They set a breathtaking example for me to follow.

This chapter is for my heroes. For those of you who are following Christ through high waters and hot flames. For those of you who are living martyrs, testifying to the power of Christ as the fire licks your feet.

I don't want to give you pat, trite answers. I don't want to tell you just to trust God and everything will be okay. I simply want to connect you to the God who is bigger than your sufferings and who fully understands what I don't. I want to connect you to the only person who can carry you through and give your contentment in the midst of suffering. I want to connect you to Jesus.

I couldn't even type those words without crying. I have never written a thank you note to an author before, but I will be writing one to Stephen Altrogge. Those words and the rest of the chapter had me sobbing (in a good way). I'm used to being encouraged by chapters like this one, but something about his specific reference to my specific sort of suffering triggered a flow of tears that I didn't know was dammed up.

Yes, Stephen, I weep and I have questions and I have days when I hurt as soon as I begin moving. And, yes, praise is a choice that I have to make daily. I wouldn't agree, though, that my life is heroic. The rest of the chapter pointed me toward the hero of the story - Christ - and that's who I hope my suffering in life points to as well.

I'm not great; Jesus is. And I'm thankful He led Altrogge to write this book. I'll be reviewing it in full tomorrow. Until then, I'll leave you with these sweet words:

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;

when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned,

and the flame shall not consume you.

For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior."

Isaiah 43:2-3a

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay,

to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed;

perplexed, but not driven to despair;

persecuted, but not forsaken;

struck down, but not destroyed;

So we do not lose heart.

Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory

beyond all comparison,

as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.

For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

1 Corinthians 4:7-9, 16-19

Cuddling with a half-eaten Pop Tart

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Tue, 17 May 2011 15:14:00 +0000

We have been sick nearly non-stop since October or November. And while I think we're finally entering healthy land, Robs is struggling today. I *think* it's just allergies, but I'm not positive. Especially after he passed out on the floor this morning.

Yes, that is a Pop Tart. I know they're not the healthiest things, but it was a special treat. Plus Pop Tarts are his love language. If your kid's love language was quality time, I wouldn't tell you to cut him off from that. So there's that.

Please pray that the kids would be healthy as the grandparents arrive on Thursday so we can go to our church's marriage retreat. We had to go a day later than planned last year due to a little guy with a high fever, and while I don't think we'll postpone it this year (since Momma Bear is more comfortable with leaving a two-year-old with a runny nose than I was a one-year-old with a fever), it would help me relax to know that he's feeling fine and having a blast without us!

And now it's time to get off the computer and transfer a little sleeping man to his bed.

(Why, yes, I did just take pictures, upload them, and write this post with him asleep on the floor.)

Materialism run amuck

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Tue, 10 May 2011 20:34:00 +0000

Nope, this isn't a post about our culture. Or America's insatiable appetite for stuff. Or any of that.

It's about me. And my heart.

I love stuff. I love that I can get free books from publishers to write reviews. I love that I'm part of Amazon's reviewer program, which has provided me with hundreds of dollars worth of products for the cost of nothing but my written review. I love that other vendors who have been willing to partner with me simply because I am willing to share my opinions.

I love the new winter coat I just bought on sale, in part because it's cute and in part because my old winter coat was a couple sizes too big and let in icy air. I love homeschool supplies, and - even though I'm only certain that we're homeschooling through preschool - I could have happily purchased every item in the local homeschool supply store here. I love owning DVDs, even though I rarely watch any of them other than my Gilmore Girls series. I love shoes, and I can get pouty when the joints in the lower half of my body limit me to nothing but Crocs.

I love stuff.

Which is exactly why I knew that the book Unstuff by Hayley & Michael DiMarco would be a good one for me to read.

And while I certainly don't intend to sell everything we own to tour homeless shelters from a tiny RV for three months like the DiMarcos did, my life could use some unstuffing. One of the first statements that grabbed me was this: "the truth is that it put our concern for stuff over our concern for people." While my house doesn't resemble this statement right now, it is not uncommon for my desire to have an orderly house to motivate me to ignore my kids. It's not really neglect, but it's not an attitude that esteems my love for them over my love for stuff.

On Facebook (ironically) I posted a link to http://www.thelogoff.org/ It's cute. And witty. And a wee bit convicting. Because the truth is that I love my online stuff too. Sometimes I love reading anonymous people's thoughts on blogs more than I like interacting with people outside of the interwebs. Because you know what? Online, I can close the window if it gets too messy. In real life, I have to deal with it in a more mature way than that. In a more Jesus-like way.

Another good tidbit: "If you're feeling overworked, there's a good chance it's a sign of stuffing." I work hard to manage emails and blogs and tweets and laundry and dishes and food and sewing supplies and toys and... Really? Is stuff what I worship? No, but does how I spend my time and my energy show that? *gulp* sometimes.

The book does talk about debt and all that, but it doesn't shine as much there as it does when it's addressing other symptoms of overstuffing. Like this: "The sin of overwork is seen in things like worry, fear, anger, bitterness, lack of time for God, lack of time for family, and lack of time for rest." (If you do want a good read about money stuffing, Money & Marriage by Matt Bell is a great one that I reviewed here.)

My one criticism of this book is that it hits so much that it doesn't dive deep in many places. I don't think that's a bad thing, though, because it's still powerful and convicting. Every Christian book doesn't have to read like a seminary text to point us to God and His Word.

And thanks to Tyndale for providing this book for my review. They didn't ask for a positive review, just an honest one. And thanks, also, to them for giving me another structural member for my bookshelves, because they are so overloaded at this point that I stack books in them in such a way that the books themselves support the weight of the other books because the shelves are beyond their limits. It's handy that my husband is a structural engineer, huh?

random thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Mon, 09 May 2011 20:08:00 +0000

1. I'm a wee bit jealous that our church has begun handing out The Jesus Storybook Bible at baby dedications. Why? Because the ones they gave Jocelyn and Robbie were meh. Not so exciting. Or accurate. Or awe-inspiring. So I'm 90% excited that these families are being given a really fantastic Bible storybook, and 10% envious that they weren't doing that when our babes were dedicated.

Because, of course, we all know that the most important thing about baby dedication is which Bible you get to bring home.

2. Laundry is drowning me.

That is all.

3. The Advance the Church 2011 conference was ah-mazing. Will Johnson has posted a lot of the notes he took over here. I'm not ready to intelligently post anything yet, but it will be coming.

4. We ordered pizza for Mother's Day. Best dinner ever, in my opinion. Menu planning will commence again tomorrow after dinner with my dad tonight, but I'm a low-class broad who loves pizza even though it and my affinity for sugar are to blame for my rheumatoid arthritis. Well, that and my lack of faith and the ineptitude of my prayer life. {insert snark here}

5. Domino's won me over for life when they added garlic salt to their crust.

Well, for life or until another chain gets the hint.

6. I love my dog. He is goofy and protective and not incredibly intelligent. And he's perfect.

7. I don't know why this item is italicized, but I'm too lazy right now to undo it. I'm thankful, though, that while my hips, knees, and feet are being affected by my present RA flare, my hands and wrists are not. So typing and writing and reading and all that aren't affected.

8. There isn't much I love more than a hot, nearly scalding bath. With bubbles. Even though the angle of my bathtub faucet makes it hard for it to hit the water as forcefully as necessary to create said bubbles.

9. (Geez, the italics again?!? What on earth.) I love, love, love my friend Jenelle's new haircut. Love it.

the poor neglected middle child

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Sun, 08 May 2011 20:01:00 +0000

I was going to say first born, but then I remembered that I dabbled with Xanga, which makes this my second blog child. I have completely forgotten my first born, though, other than that it was called SillyShenanigans but I never ever wrote about anything silly on it.

Let's see if I can find it...hmm, there is some funny stuff there. Like this:

Interesting quotes from my husband this evening...

"How can I be 'the honorable'?" after Secretary of Education Margaret Spelling was introduced as "The Honorable Margaret Spelling" on Celebrity Jeopardy. (Amusingly enough, our Secretary of Education couldn't beat out a couple of actors. Sad, huh? Not that this was a surprise, though, since this was a re-run that I watched the first time around...)

"Don't we need cookie mix?" in response to my suggestion that we use the caramel-chocolate chips for cookies later instead of adding them to the cake batter tonight. I showed him the back of the bag of chips, where the recipe can always be found, so he could see the exact ingredients required to make cookies. A few moments later came the next quote...

"So you mean this is just flour and sugar and some other stuff?" he asked while holding the bag of cake mix.

"You're right. This bag has a recipe too!" as he held up another bag of chocolate chips.

"So who reads your Xanga?" he asked after I told him I was beginning this post. He was okay with it once I explain it's only Jenelle and sometimes Derek.

Which was true. But more of y'all read this blog. Or at least you did before it became my neglected middle child blog.

I have been posting a ridiculous amount over at The Works of God Displayed. It's where I write about special needs ministry stuff.

And it's official, based on pageviews, visitors, and Twitter followers: my ministry is more popular than I am.

And I'm okay with that. Well, I wasn't totally okay with it, and then a sweet friend reminded me of the verse at the end of my emails: "He must become greater; I must become less." {John 3:30}

So I'm okay with it now.

What I'm not okay with is neglecting this space. Because, as much as I love my ministry stuff, I love my own space that doesn't have to be specific to any one topic. The eclectic area that fell together here sort of like the original Dinglefest did ... you know, the crazy carnival wedding reception that we threw together in Texas after we scrapped the wedding we planned in Florida? It started as a joke by my man, and it evolved to the best wedding reception ever.

My first real post here was about my then one-year-old daughter preferring dead leaves over the company of Mommy and my then twenty-five-year-old self preferring the rubbish of the world over the treasure of Christ. And while the blog has changed much since then, I still want that fresh, real attitude to be here. Along with the other randomness of life I've added in.

All this to say: my newborn blog is two months old today. It has 45 posts, most of which I love. And while I would love for you to check it out, I wanted to share with you that I think we're through the late nights and difficult first days. I'm thankful for the hundreds of folks who care what I have to say there, but I miss the comfort of the tens who like to check in on me here.

I'm back. No promises about how frequently I'll be back, but I'm back. I missed y'all.

fun with friends

noreply@blogger.com (Shannon Dingle) — Tue, 03 May 2011 12:25:00 +0000

The week before Easter, we went over to our sweet friends' house and hung out for the morning. Knowing that Leiana would love to dress-up and knowing that Jocelyn wouldn't want to leave her costumes at home, we brought them with us! Such a fun day, for which I am thankful because since then we've each had a stomach bug, the kids have each had another virus that gave them high fevers, and Jocelyn now has poison ivy. It's a good thing I'm reading Stephen Altrogge's The Greener Grass Conspiracy right now, because it would be tempting to become discontented if I weren't reading solid reminders of why that's not God's best for me. (And, yes, a review is coming; I still have a couple chapters to go, so I can't write it just yet!)

But enough about that...how 'bout this precious princess?!?

I think she's bummed that the prince isn't willing to play along.

And all the dragon wanted to do was read a book about a dragon.

Thankfully, reading was an activity they all found agreeable.

Love them!

Hmm, Robbie just looked over my shoulder and said, "Baby Leiana cute." Isn't it a bit early for that?!?