Loving the Chaos (with twins and a toddler)

Giving Presence

2014-08-06T12:14:00.003-07:00

     My six year old made a comment to me several months ago that went something like this: "Mommy, you play on your phone all the time." At that moment, I was actually responding to something important, so I pointed that out to her. A few weeks later, she said again, "Mommy, you are on your phone sending messages all the time." Each time she said it, I automatically felt and acted defensive. The problem? She was right. Don't you just hate it when that happens?

     We live in a world that is very "social"...Well, maybe we should say we are very "connected"...No, that's not exactly right either. What are we then? I have over 1,000 "friends" on my Facebook, and this blog has been viewed a little over 9,500 times. Wow, I must have some social life, huh? NOPE!

     Social media can be a great tool. It keeps me in touch with my family that lives 500 miles away, it helps me stay up to date on old friends from high school who I otherwise would have lost touch with completely, and it has helped me to "talk" more with people who were just acquaintances before. However, it doesn't help me to never feel lonely, and I surely don't feel more social. What does it do more often than help me stay connected? It disconnects me from those who are right in front of me.

   In order for us to feel that we are "up" on what's going on in our news feed, we must constantly check in. That means, when I'm playing with my kids, I'm constantly scrolling my Facebook. When I'm visiting with a friend, I'm commenting on posts and pictures. When I go stay with my parents who live away from me, I'm seeing what is going on back in my hometown. I'm so connected to online people, that the flesh and blood in front of me is being ignored. It feeds a loneliness, because I leave these moments feeling unfulfilled. We take our phones into doctor's office waiting rooms to fill the time, thus ignoring those around us. We occupy ourselves on road trips, thus leaving the driver in his/her own silence. Why?

     I asked myself why it is that we can't give those who are with us our presence. I don't want to just sit in the room with someone, I want their attention. I don't think that is too much to ask. I also don't think that is too much to give. It is safe to say that in my life and the lives of many of those close to me, time is as precious of a commodity as money. Time is dear to us, yet we waste what we have by ignoring our friends and family so that we can stay "connected". Shame on us.

     This very post has been marinating in my mind for a while, and every time I thought about not writing it, something spoke to me about it in the form of a commercial, a Facebook post, or even an online video. I didn't know why, but last night as I was laying in bed, it finally hit me. God wants our presence too. Ouch. I spend so much time talking about and working for God, that I know He sometimes feels like that friend sitting across from me at lunch eating in silence while I scroll through my news feed. I'm going to be honest, as I prayed, I mostly had to apologize for giving my time, but not my presence. How hurt He must feel! How lonely my mind and soul felt after all that silence between us.

     I am not saying that is anything wrong with social media. I love it. I use it. I don't see either of those things changing. However, let's learn to not cling to people who may or may not be sincere, who may or may not even be who they claim. Let's give those around us the best gift of all, OUR PRESENCE! It was not easy to set my phone down upstairs at my mother's house and go downstairs to sit with her. What if someone needed to get in touch with me? What if something important happened and I didn't know? What if someone needed prayer and I missed it? You know what? It was wonderful. No, I didn't get to post twenty pictures of all of us sitting around chatting, but I also didn't miss half of every conversation that occurred. They had my presence. AND THEY NOTICED!

     As women, mothers, wives, friends, etc, let's give those around us our presence. Let's touch the lives of those who are right here with us. Let's be present in the lives of our children. Let's be present in our relationships with God. That is my challenge for all of us, here is my prayer:

God, we love You. We love our children, our husbands, our families, and our friends. Help us to give them all of us when we are in their presence. Help us to give You our best attention. Keep us from distractions, even those that are well intended, so that we can truly connect to those who are important in our lives. We praise and love You, amen.

Confidence vs. Entitlement

2014-05-31T07:50:00.002-07:00

     I think we can all see the bothersome trend in generations today of a sense of entitlement. It seems to have started with my generation, but as a teacher, I can see it progressing. It seems that among children, those who work the hardest in school and extracurricular activities tend to have the biggest sense of entitlement. I've heard students (and even their parents) say things like, "I'm a perfect student, can't you just overlook this one little thing?" or "I'm an athlete; I can't get in trouble." The insinuation is that a "good" kid should get a break from the rules, because he/she usually tries to follow them. As Christians, don't we also sometimes have this same sense of entitlement? "I serve You, God, so I shouldn't have to deal with this issue." Or maybe, "I try so hard, Lord, why can't something in my life just go right?" Maybe I'm the only one guilty of this.

   In response to the trend, there is a rather disturbing answer. I see parents all around me who do not want their children to grow up with a sense of entitlement, so they make sure to tell their children constantly that the world "owes them nothing" and "they have to work for everything they get in life" and"nothing is ever free or easy". These statements are true, but sometimes the ideas are taken too far. In addition, they tend to point out their children's flaws so that their children don't think that they are superior to anyone, and therefore deserving special treatment because of being better. They don't mean to tear them down, they just want to show them that others are just a special and deserving as them. Sadly, the lesson seems to eventually lead to a child who has no confidence at all. They seem browbeaten and humbled to the point of....I don't even know, shame, worthlessness, hopelessness? It's most sad to me because I know most of these parents mean well. They really do just want their children to know that they have to work for what they earn in life. They don't mean to tear down the confidence that they are supposed to be building.

     I worry about these issues with my own children, and, after a particularly hard day with Princess, I felt myself struggling with these two opposites. She made comments that sounded very entitled, and without even knowing what I was doing, I began pointing out that God gives us things, not because we can possibly deserve them, but because He loves us in spite of our flaws. I saw her start to crumble emotionally and realized what I was doing. I immediately repented to God for failing to build up the fragile heart he had put under my care. As equally importantly, I apologized to my little Princess and reminded her that she was "fearfully and wonderfully made", and I took a more gentle route of explanation. At that moment, I began to ponder in my heart how a parent could walk the line between confidence, which we are in charge of building in our children, and the entitlement attitude that the world will try to get them to adopt.

Let's see what the Bible says about how we build our children:

Ephesians 6:4 ESV Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.

Proverbs 23:13 Do not withhold discipline from a child

Psalms 127:3-5 Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb, a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.

Proverbs 22:6 Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.

Colossians 3:21 Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.

Proverbs 29:17 Discipline your son, and he will give you rest; he will give delight to your heart.

Wow, these scriptures sure do show me a thing or two about parenting. It made me feel better though, that there is a line to walk between making your children behave with an attractive attitude of grace and gratitude and building up their vulnerable little spirits. For a moment in my life, I was in danger of becoming that parent who withheld praises for fear of making my child feel that the world owed something to her. HOWEVER, maybe if I constantly remind my kids that this world is not their home and God has perfection awaiting us in Heaven, then they won't be concerned with what the world has to offer. In order to do this, I have to first fully embrace that fact myself. I can't live in constant worry about what the world thinks of me (thank goodness, because I'm not feeling a lot of love from the world lately), and I have to live in confidence that God is in control. I have to show them that the things that are given to me in this life, the things I earn, the things I give away, etc., all belong to God anyway. He puts us in charge of things, and we must care for them as His property, not ours. We aren't entitled to anything, but God loves us enough to give us blessings in life, and there's nothing wrong with being blessed. There is also nothing wrong with blessing our children.

What I want more than anything in life is to be the best child of God I can. I also want to be a great wife and wonderful mother. I truly believe that if I become the best child of God I can, He will show me by example how to be a magnificent parent. Keep your heads up, sisters, we'll figure this mommy thing out together. Here's my prayer today:

"God, we love you so completely. We ask you to help us raise our babies to be confident in a world that will try to tear down their confidence. We know that the unconditional love you show us pours through us and on to our children. Help us to express that fact to them in a way that will make them strong. Help us to also teach them that this world will not fulfill them, only You will. We ask that You give us wisdom, strength, and confidence so that we can be great examples to our babies. We love You, we love You, we love You. Amen."

a strong willed child against a crappy job

2014-05-06T18:40:00.000-07:00

Picture this: You have put all of your dear children to sleep after a long, stressful day. You sit down on the couch to watch your show (the one chance you get a day to relax and be entertained). Just as your mind begins to check out for a while, you hear the padding of little feet down the hallway, and you believe that one of your little cherubs is coming for one last goodnight kiss. Sure enough, little Tank with his angel grin comes into the room. You notice he is holding his hands out and mumbling something. You see that there is something on his hands, and your mind goes to the worst case scenario...Yep, poop. There are lots of glamorous moments in parenting life, but there is NOTHING glamorous about potty training (even when the job is done). Why on earth would he poop and then proceed to try and take care of the problem himself? How on earth does the amount of poop that comes out of a toddler turn into so much when smeared on every surface in his room (can I get an amen)? How on earth do you get his clothes off and him in the tub without getting in on his face? (I resisted the urge to just cut it down the back) WHY? WHY? WHY? I say with no apologies that I HATE potty training. I have actually offered to pay my mother to do it for me. She refused. I understand why though, it's a crappy job, literally.

     Okay, so it's been forever since I have posted, and mostly it's because I have been waiting to tell you about my successfully potty trained twins. Alas, I am still fighting the fight in this crappy job called potty training. With Princess, potty training was a breeze: we had a heart to heart explaining why she should use the potty, we talked about how big girls didn't wear diapers, and voila, she was well on her way. It wasn't flawless, but once we actually went through with it, she understood the point and tried her best. I always thought she was pretty strong willed, but she was also eager to please which helped the process. Enter Tinker Belle.
   Here's the thing about Tinker Belle, she does NOT CARE if big girls use the potty, she does NOT CARE if going pee pee in her panties equals a puddle in the floor and icky legs. She does NOT want to use the potty. We, my friends, are at an impasse. Dean and I have no idea where to go from here. I have felt horribly about this for months. It's not that I thought potty training would be super easy with twins, but I simply feel like I can't reach them, and Tinker in particular. I can't get her to understand the importance of potty training. She simply won't take it seriously. Then I realized, "SHE'S TWO! Not much is important in her eyes right now. It's not the end of the world!" My kid won't use the potty. Big stinking deal. Why, then, do I feel like my kids should be fully potty trained at two and a half?...Well, here's my thinking. I have said before that I think every moment in life lends itself to a spiritual lesson. Here are a few lessons that I've recently picked up from my "crappy job" of potty training.
1. I'm prideful when it comes to my kids. --This is a sin I work on constantly in my life. I want them to look, act, and feel perfect at all times. Obviously, with a blog bearing this name, I do not feel that I ever reach that moment for long. The sin is still there, and once I realized early in motherhood that I was putting unneeded pressure on Princess in order to achieve perfection, I tried to stop the behavior and assess the cause. I have worked nonstop for the better part of five years to lay off a little when it comes to Princess. I had to realize that when Psalms says, "I am fearfully and wonderfully made", it means that our little personality quirks are part of that as well. Sometimes she doesn't want to match. Who cares? Sometimes she doesn't want to sing that cute song for people. Big deal. The twins have taught me so much about letting go and not "sweating the small stuff". Not enough, I suppose. I decided this week that my untrained twins are teaching me a little humility in a good way. I have always believed I can do the things I set my mind to; however, my heart needs to be in the right place. At this moment, I want to be able to say that my kids are all potty trained just out of vanity. Lord, forgive me. What a silly girl I am. One day, when they are grown and leaving home to start life on their own, I seriously doubt that they will hold it against me that I didn't have them potty trained by two and a half.
2. The mommy pressure.--My mother thinks that two years old is the perfect age for potty training. My brother and I were both trained at two, and she assures me that I was not an easy student in the school of potty use. I suppose I feel, as most girls do, that my mom knows everything about motherhood, and therefore, I should copy her model for everything. It's not working right now. I'm trying mom. I just can't seem to handle pee in my floor as gracefully as you must have. I cry sometimes when dealing with poop. Here's the thing, my mother was/is, in my opinion, the best version of mother in the world. She is most definitely a Proverbs 31 woman, and her children definitely rose up "and called her blessed".
3. I don't like failure.--Now some of you will think this is silly, but I'm betting lots of you mommies out there will understand this one. In my rational mind, I know that not having my kids potty trained yet even though I have tried to do so, does not equal failure. However, there is always that part of me that sees every delay as a failure. I know that one day the twins will be potty trained. However, a part of me feels that I evidently have not tried hard enough or they would be trained now. I have always been blessed with a great sense of self worth. Critics don't bother me much, because there are few people in this world I try to please. (My mother has always found this amusing and refreshing since I actually get along with most people in my life despite this fact.) On the flip side, I have always been really hard on myself. I don't really need anyone to point out flaws, because I can guarantee you, I have already noticed them. I finally realized this to be a spiritual problem when I was out of college and working. I needed a goal, an immediate goal, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't have one. I always relied on the fact that I was smart, motivated, and blessed. There are times in life, though, where a little dose of failure can be healthy. 2 Corinthians 12:9 tells us, ⁹“'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me." Am I saying this applies to my weakness in potty training? Not necessarily, but I do think that there's a hint of something in it for me in this situation. It tells me that I don't have to be able to do everything. I don't have to be strong in every area. I don't have to be the perfect mother in my own strength, because I have a God who is a perfect parent and who will help me along the way.

I know that one day I will look back on this potty training moment in life and chuckle about it. I know that far more difficult situations are on their way. Therefore, I am choosing to be thankful that this is even an issue in my life, because that means I must be pretty blessed to be worried with it. I laughed the other day when my mom asked me how potty training was going. I said, "Well, the optimist in me wants to tell you that Tinker Belle used the potty once. The pessimist in me wants to tell you that she peed in the floor five times. You pick which one you listen too."    That's how we are in life though, right? We try to look at the bright side, but the clouds roll right in. Here's my prayer for any mother who is in a moment where she is struggling to succeed. Maybe you too are trying to potty train. Maybe you're struggling to breastfeed. Maybe you are trying to get back your prodical child. Maybe you are getting ready to send your new graduate out into a scary world, and you just don't feel ready. Either way, let's lift each other up:

Dear God, thank You for being a God who cares about the small things. Thank You for seeing my details and concerning yourself with them. Help me to keep my perspective in life. Forgive me for my vanity. Forgive me for thinking myself so strong that I don't seek you in every moment of my life. Draw me towards You. If failing makes me better, then God, let me fail. You are the only success I need in life. Help my friends who are dealing with issues different and bigger than mine. Bless them, Lord, and touch their hearts. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You. Amen.

Keeping Mommy healthy

2013-11-29T18:48:00.001-08:00

"Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body." 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

     I know that I'm probably the least consistent blogger of all time, and I love you for staying with me. In all honesty, I always think of and miss my blog when I'm not actively working on it. However, my blog seems like a little joy that is easily stolen. Dinner must be made, laundry must be done, but my newest post? Well, that can wait. And it does so much more often than it should. I blogged almost a year ago about going through a spiritual storm. That storm ebbed and flowed for a long time. It started before I posted about it, and it continued to be a bit of a struggle afterwards. I was suffering from chronic fatigue and headaches, and those physical struggles caused me some spiritual setbacks. When I would go to my doctors, they would try their best to treat me, and they would sympathize with my symptoms, but nothing seemed to offer any relief. Eventually, I just gave up and took the medications that would treat the symptoms. They continued.

     I love that modern medicine can do so much for us. However, I think sometimes we as patients limit the medical field. When I would go to the doctor, it would be when I had finally gotten so tired, and then sick from lowered immunity, that I was treated for something that was an effect of the problem. A few months ago, I found myself at my wits end. I had made life changes such as transferring to a teaching position where I would be under less stress, I had worked on my spiritual growth, and I was not "sweating the small things" (as much). It seemed to help a little, but I was still having far too many migraines, and I was absolutely exhausted all of the time. One weekend, I was so tired, I barely got off of the couch. My husband was afraid of what was wrong. Something had to change.

   I decided to explore new options. After struggling over a year, I went to a woman's health specialist. My mother highly recommended a doctor not too far out of town, and honestly, I wanted to go to a doctor who had never met me. It's hard for me to convince anyone who knows what my life is like that I'm more exhausted than I should be. I work full time, I have three "lively" children, and I do extra things on the side; my life is busy. Here's the thing though, I knew I was feeling worse than I should. For an entire YEAR of my life, I allowed people around me, including family, friends, nurses, and doctors (all who I know meant well), to tell me that I felt the way anyone who lived my life should feel. I sort of wanted them to tell me nothing was wrong, because part of me knew something was wrong, and I was secretly afraid of knowing what was ailing me. It doesn't make sense that I didn't seek help sooner now, because I got to a point where I realized that I was missing out on actually living the experiences of my life, because I was just surviving them. What kind of living is that? Didn't God mean more for my life than that? I needed help. I got it.

     I went to one visit with my new doctor afraid that he would see me as a wimp, because I had convinced myself that this is what my other doctors and family/friends must think about me. My biggest fear was him looking at my stats, and saying, "Mrs. Dean, you just have a lot going on, so of course you're tired." I think I would have broken down right there. Instead, he looked at my chart, and then asked me very specific questions. I held my breath when he started to take a guess at my problem, and, to my surprise, he said, "Mrs. Dean, on paper, you look perfect, but if you are feeling badly, something's wrong. Sometimes people who seem healthy are pushed aside if no disease is found, but I'm not going to give up on finding the issue." I teared up a little, because it seems I rarely make it through a doctor's visit without crying anyway (which I've mentioned before).   I was so relieved that he was going to use his different tests and methods to find the issue. A nurse took four vials of blood that day and gave me an appointment for the next week as well as a list of some vitamins to begin that very day.

*Here's my request ladies: IF YOU FEEL THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG, PURSUE IT! No one knows your body like you do. I could've saved myself a lot of exhaustion if I had gone to this doctor the first time my mother recommended him to me. *

     At my follow up appointment, I was even more nervous than at the first. What if all of the tests came back normal? What then? Would he think I was a hypochondriac? Would he believe that I was really feeling sick? Was I just going crazy? Would I be expected to just deal with the issues? He pulled out the results. The first result was good. I felt relief and disappointment at the same time. What he was checking were simple vitamin and hormone levels. If something had to be wrong, those were easy things to fix, right? I began to feel the tears building. It didn't take long, however, for him to reveal to me that I was severely deficient in two major vitamins and I also had some hormone deficiencies. Simple fix with natural vitamins, we hope.

I've been taking the vitamins for a month now, and while I don't feel like I'm 15 years younger, I do feel better. My mother and husband both say that there is a noticeable difference. Why didn't I do something sooner? Well, I'm the mom. I don't have time to be sick or feel badly. I have things to take care of here. Don't you say the same things yourself? Please ladies, take care of yourselves. God tells us to do so, so why do we feel that we should be the health martyrs of our families?

Here's my prayer for us:
"Dear Lord, we thank You for these bodies You have given us. We may not always feel they are perfect, but God they do so much for our families. Help us to remember that our bodies are a temple, and how we treat them directly reflects how we care for our gifts from You. We praise You for strength to push through physical ailments, but we praise You for Your healing hand. We promise here and now to strive to take care of the temple You have chosen especially for us. We love, praise, and adore You above all. Amen."

Submissive Wife--Part 3

2013-09-13T07:15:00.002-07:00

     Here's part three of the Submissive wife series!! I thought about naming the post something else, since it seems that at least a few people are stumbling upon my blog in search of something else and feel it necessary to "enlighten" me on the error of my beliefs. However, in a world constantly screaming at us to be "open minded", I think it's time for others to be open minded of my lifestyle. The last two key elements of my decision to be submissive are:

Being submissive does not mean you do not help with the decision making.
      I'm going to be honest. If being a submissive wife meant I had no control over anything that happened in my life or the lives of my children, it would be a much harder lifestyle to accomplish. As I have said before, being a submissive wife doesn't mean you are someone's personal doormat or slave. Dean has always been the kind of man who is very thoughtful about making decisions. Even before we were married, he would seek my opinions and advice about big decisions. Therefore, when we got married, we were used to confiding in the other about insecurities with certain decisions. It wasn't perfectly seamless; I was used to being on the go constantly and spending money however I chose before we were married. In turn, he didn't always consult me on decisions with his farm business. These were hard lessons learned to a newlywed couple. I had to be more conscious of his feelings if I had my whole weekend booked up with activities that didn't invole him. Honestly, going from a college student who only needed spending money to an adult with bills to pay caused the money spending issue to solve itself rather quickly. I still try to take his feelings into account when making big purchases, and he does the same for me. In turn, Dean has continually integrated me into the farm business. I know I may not seem like the farming business type, but it's very interesting, challenging, and takes such dedication, that I can't help but love being on the "team" when it comes to our family farm. I feel myself to be a very important aspect of Dean's decision making process, and he feels the same about being an important part of mine. I felt like we had finally made it to this point when I realized that each time I made a decision (even a little one), I thought about the effect it would have on him.
     If you find yourself in a relationship where your husband does not take your feelings into account when making decisions or he does not involve you in the decision making process, hang in there. One way to encourage this progress is to simply talk to him about the issue. Ensure him that you want to be a part of the process even though you support him no matter what, and if he makes a decision that hurts your feelings, tell him in a LOVING way. Also, as with anything in life, be the example. Go to him and ask him how he feels about the decisions you make, even those dealing with your job. Express to him that you are concerned with his feelings with every decision you make from which movie you rent to buying unnecessary make up. These examples may be extreme, but if you want him to think of you each time he makes a decision, you must think of him when you make your decisions. You'd be surprised at how touched someone can be when they realize you bought their favorite cereal without them even asking.

Being a submissive wife will make your husband a stronger, more confident man.
     I think the most important job of a wife is to build her husband up. Women and men are astronomically different, but one thing we both crave is to be encouraged, complimented, and supported no matter what. My husband is a very confident man on many levels; however, sometimes the pressure of running a family business, and even a family, can make him second guess himself. We all understand that on some level. No one wants to fail. Everyone wants to be wonderfully successful in life, and being in charge of the success of others can be burdensome. I have learned as a wife to always express my support and how proud I am of my husband. I always thought he knew how proud I am of him, but during our marriage, I have learned that I have to constantly reinforce the way I feel about being on "his side". I'm his biggest fan, and I make sure I tell him often.  If he makes a difficult decision, and I know he is worried about it, I make sure I tell him that I am behind him no matter what, even if his idea fails. It is important to him, and when he has to make those hard decisions, it makes him stronger in what he chooses when he feels that I am behind him. There are times when he must face others who question the decisions and express concern. He doesn't back down when he knows I support him. He is stronger because of the fact. I love that his love for me is so strong that he trusts me as his top support. He may be the president of this life we live, but rather than the first lady, he makes sure I feel like the second in command. When a man feels that he has the world on his shoulders, it helps to know there is someone there to help him balance it.

Here's my prayer for the last post in the submissive wife series of my blog:
"Dear Father, we adore You. Thank You God for being bigger and stronger than we ever could hope to be. We pray Your blessings on our precious husbands. We ask that You give us the strength and wisdom to protect our family units by being the wives You have called us to be. We give You all the praise for every lesson learned and every success achieved. You, Lord, are our first love, and we thank You for giving us a relationship that strengthens our understanding of love. Thank You, God, for these ladies who encourage me. Bless them, please."

Submissive Wife--Part 2

2013-08-29T16:15:00.000-07:00

Okay ladies, I know it wasn't supposed to take so long to get the part 2 post out, but I have been trying to evaluate myself as a wife and be the submissive wife I feel I should be before I go trying to encourage anyone else to do the same. However, I feel like now is the time to look into some of the things that hold us back from being the submissive wives we should be and some of the things that can make submission easier....

1.    Being a submissive wife is easier to a Godly husband.
   I know this sounds obvious, but look at the statement closely. Many Christian women who are looking for a husband say that they want a “Godly man;” however, what they mean is they want a man who is a proclaimed Christian. A godly man is one who isn’t just saved but he is also a man who seeks God in every aspect of his life. He is a man who understands the family unit and the parallel it holds to the relationship between Christ and the church. He knows that taking a wife means he is responsible for her safety, well-being, and the spiritual state of the entire family. Why then, do so many Christian women settle for a man who is not godly? I think the biggest reason is due to our natural instinct to connect ourselves to a mate. I’ve seen so many young ladies get to the point in life when they just want to be settled, so they begin to panic over finding a mate. They end up settling alright, but sometimes it’s for someone who is less than she deserves. I know there are some thinking, “Geez, Rae, it’s not that easy to find a man who is compatible to me, lives where I want him to, does what I think is the right kind of occupation, AND is Godly…” I’m being facetious, but think hard about what our criteria for the “perfect man” tends to be. When did being Godly become less than the first priority for choosing a spouse? When did we stop teaching our daughters that the most attractive trait a person can have is to love Jesus? Shame on us! We want our children to choose someone who “is a hard worker”, “makes you happy”, and who “makes you feel loved.” I’m not saying those are bad traits, but if a person is Godly and truly seeks to live a life pleasing to God, don’t you think those other traits will fall into place? I’m lucky. While Dean was not as focused on his walk with Christ when we met as he is now, I always knew that God was important in his life in a very real way. He could say the same about me. Therefore, if you are in the situation that you and/or your significant other aren't in the right place spiritually, get moving (closer to God, that is).
    Now we must deal with the issue of what to do if you are already in a marriage with an ungodly man. If possible, submit. Proverbs 31:10 says, “A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies.” Even a man outside of the will of God can appreciate a wife with “noble character”. Now, I know there are circumstances in which a Godly woman has to choose to either submit to God or her ungodly husband. I sincerely hope none of you are in that situation, but if so, I think you already know the right choice to make. I’m no marriage counselor, so please don’t try to read into this for an excuse to stay in or get out of a relationship with an unsaved person. That, my friend, is between you and God. Feel free to email me though, and I will offer all the support I can give.

2.    Being submissive doesn't make you weak, but shows that you are strong.
     So many women today hate the mention of submission because they feel it is a term that signifies weakness. I completely disagree. Of all of the married women I know, those who are/ were submissive in their relationships with their husbands are by far the strongest women. My mother, who is the strongest woman I know in my adult life, has worked hard to be a submissive wife. I asked her after my first post how easy it was for her to become a submissive wife. She and my father were not living for Christ when they got married, and I suppose I thought she would say that when they recommitted to Christ, it was easy. She didn’t. My mom, who is rebellious by nature (though she didn’t say that herself), said, “it’s still not easy 34 years in.” That was NOT the answer I wanted. I started thinking then about why she is such a great example of wifely submission in my life if it isn’t something that comes naturally to her. Then it hit me; she is a great example of submission because of the fact that it isn’t easy and she does it anyway. My mother has followed my dad all over the southern states, and honestly, she didn’t always want to do so. Why did she? My father told her that he felt God moving them to a particular job/place, so she went. Wow, right? I can’t imagine leaving behind my entire family like she did and just moving 600 miles to a place where we knew no one and had no connections. That, ladies, takes strength. Did she complain? Yes. Did she cry? Absolutely. Did she mourn for the things and people she had to leave behind? Of course! However, she followed her husband, because she knew that is what God wanted of her, submission.

3.    Being submissive is a healthy example for your children.
     I truly believe that one problem with the family unit today is that children to often see their parents in a struggle for control. They don’t know who the leader of the family is, so they see marriage as a battle of wills. This gives them an unhealthy vision of marriage. Rather than two people who uplift and support one another, they see two people trying to win a game of tug of war. It teaches them to either not want to be married, or it makes them think that in order to be married, you have to constantly fight for control. My five year old daughter is old enough to understand the idea of someone being the “boss”. When she asked one day about who the boss is at our house, I sat her down and explained it. I told her that I was the boss of them, daddy was the boss of all of us, and God was the boss of everyone. She loved the idea of daddy being my “boss”, and while that term may hold negative connotations to some, I felt it was a good time to let her see that I don’t mind letting daddy make decisions because I know he will do what is best for all of us. I also let her know that if someone is a “boss” over someone else, it is actually a hard job. Being a boss is a big responsibility. When daddy makes a decision, he has to be sure it is what God wants so that the outcome is a good one. Now, I want to also add that if I make a decision at home when Dean isn’t there, he is always sure to back me up. If I tell Princess that she can’t have ice cream because she didn’t eat dinner, he stands behind me. If I tell her that she must go to bed earlier because she was naughty, he supports the decision. It didn’t take her long to understand that trying to work us against one another would not end with her getting her way. Do I make decisions in our household? Every day. Dean works longer hours than I do, so I have to make decisions constantly. I DO NOT make any decisions that are life-changing, finance changing, or will have big, long term effects on any of us without asking him first. He, in return, does the same for me out of respect. Neither of us would ever want to do something like buy a piece of land without consulting the other first. I wouldn’t want to make my husband feel undermined in his place as our caretaker, and my husband doesn’t want to make me believe that my feelings are unimportant to him. Therefore, we have always made those decisions together, and often, we consult someone outside who we trust to give us good advice before making those big decisions. By working this way, we hope to show our children that being a submissive wife doesn’t make me unimportant, and being the head of the family doesn’t mean daddy doesn’t need or want mommy’s help and advice.

I have a part 3 post that will cover the other two sections of my reasons for being a submissive wife. I would love for you all to share your own feelings and experiences of wifely submission. Here's my prayer for us who are on this journey together towards Godly submission:

"Dear Father, help us to be consciously submissive in our marriages. Please touch our husbands and bless them as the head of his home. Let us be wonderful examples of Christians and wives to our children. Please lead us towards Your will for us always. Most of all, Lord, help us stay committed to being submissive wives even when it isn't easy. We praise You, love You, and worship You only. Amen"

Why I am a submissive wife.

2013-06-25T20:23:00.000-07:00

     It seems that submission is a dirty word to us today. It is an even dirtier concept for marriage in our society. However, I am a rebel to society in this case. I feel that my willingness and ability to be a submissive wife is a key to maintaining a Godly marriage. Please know that I am not here to upset anyone, and I don't want to debate. However, I do feel that we hear a great deal from women who do not believe in submission to their husbands and very little from the other side. So, here I am, unqualified as I may be. Keep an open mind.
     I think the world hears the phrase "submissive wife" and pictures a June Cleaver type lady but one who is brow beaten, talked down to, and mistreated by her husband; or maybe one who lacks confidence, courage, or intelligence; or possibly a weak woman who simply can't stand up for herself. I don't buy into this stereotype. Do these ladies exist? Yes, and I pray for them, their husbands, and their children. However, I don't believe they are the portrait of submission that the Bible paints. In return, we often think of men who believe in wifely submission and think of egotistical bigots who want a woman they can walk all over. Do these men exist? Yes, and I pray for them, their wives, and their children. The Bible tells us that a wife should submit to her husband, and that is enough reason for it to be a goal of mine.
     Dean and I didn't really discuss this particular idea before getting married. I don't know why, but for some reason it didn't seem necessary. I grew up in a family where the husband was a natural, strong leader, and where the wife was a natural supporter. This idea was instilled in me, but I can see where it could be a struggle for a woman who did not experience how well the pairing could work. I think there are a few things we need to keep in mind when deciding to be submissive wives:

1. Being a submissive wife is easier to a Godly husband.
2. Being submissive doesn't make you weak, but shows that you are strong.
3. Being submissive is a healthy example for your children.
4. Being submissive does not mean you do not help with the decision making.
5. Being a submissive wife will make your husband a stronger, more confident man.

     I can't possibly talk about all of these points in this one post, so I will have several posts about this topic. I promise that I will post as quickly as I can about these ideas as I seek out wisdom and scripture to express myself. I know that I am a lucky woman. I rarely "feel" that I am submitting to my husband. Dean is a wonderful man to be aware of his leadership in our family while making sure our children see that Mommy is a very important part of our success(es) as a group. As we start on this journey together, those of you willing to follow along, I want us all to get in the Bible about the idea. The two most obvious scriptures that come to my mind are:

Ephesians 5:22 which says, "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord."
and
Colossians 3:10 which says, "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord."

I want this to be our diving board. Don't just look at these verses, but go to your Bible or online and read the whole chapters. See what is going on, get a feel for the setting, and then digest it with prayer. These scriptures offer up large orders. Submitting my being to God isn't even that easy, and He is perfect. Now I am asked to put myself completely in the hands of a mere mortal to the same extent as I do with my Savior? AND He sees that as glorious to Him? Wow. Here we go ladies. Let's start off this Saga with prayer for ourselves AND our husbands/future husbands.

"Heavenly Father, give me wisdom. I feel so unworthy of even dealing with this issue, but I know it is what you want me to do. Help me to gain the knowledge I need on this journey. Help my sisters who choose to live this way. Give them courage, strength, and your blessings. Help our precious husbands as well. Make them men who are worthy leaders, Godly leaders, and sensitive leaders. Help our sisters who believe that submission is a negative trait. We praise You, God."

Please know that I understand some readers will get upset about this series of posts. I also understand that these posts could lose some readers/followers for the blog. I know without a doubt there are people who will scoff, laugh, and shake their heads. It's okay. I am a pretty secure woman. I welcome comments from anyone, but I will not let this turn into an angry or hateful debate of any kind, so I will only allow respectful comments to be made public. I am writing this feeling like part of a minority trying to give voice to women who choose to be submissive in their marriages. I believe that there are more of us out there than most people would like to believe. I am fighting a cultural agenda that began before my time, while I refuse to buy into society's lies that tell me I am ignorant if I let a man have any kind of power over me. There is freedom in submission to God; therefore, there is freedom in marital submission.

Wish me luck. Better yet, pray for me.

Kitchen Dances

2013-05-07T07:43:00.001-07:00

     Dean and I live pretty high stress lives at times. In reality, I don't know many people who don't. I talk a lot with Dean and my friends about how to destress. Dean likes to farm, AThack likes to run, Sissy cleans, my dad gets out in nature/plays golf/goes hunting/etc (his long list makes me think he either feels tons of stress or none at all, I can't decide), and I like to go to my local park and walk the trail. These are all things we do just to escape the stress that gets us down from time to time. Life is stressful, period. I hate going to the doctor and being asked if I feel stressed, especially since this happens mostly after having a child it seems. I've taken to the response, "Yes doctor, I do feel stressed. Most of the adults I know are stressed. As a matter of fact, I bet a job like yours leaves you tired and stressed as well. How are you feeling mentally today?" I'm not trying to be snotty to them since I know they mean well, I'm just saying that our culture, or maybe just life, tends to lead us into stress. Even Jesus felt stress at times. Remember Him turning over the tables in the temple, weeping over Lazarus when he saw Mary and Martha crying, or being so burdened that he shed tears of blood before His crucifiction? Crazy as it sounds, I think stress has it's place in life; it helps us to look forward to the perfect peace of heaven. I also think it is a logical part of marriage, and what I think our culture lacks is couples who know how to destress together.
     My dad has been in the ministry my whole life, and while it's a blessed calling, it is also one that tends to carry a great deal of stress. My parents, like any adults, had to deal with individual stress in their lives. However, they took destressing one step further and dealt with stress as a couple. This is how they taught me what a good marriage can be. For as long as I can remember, my parents have dated. Now, don't get me wrong, they have been happily married since 1978, but they will tell you that a major key to the success of their marital bliss is that they never stopped dating. The idea is so ingrained in me that I have a hard time believing that there are those couples out there who ever stop dating once they get married. Marriage is wonderful, AND it is hard. Parenting is an amazing blessing, AND it is hard. Being an adult is rewarding, AND it is hard. We, as married people, need time away from all of the difficulties of life to just be together with our spouse and remember who we are as a couple. I love my children desperately, I love being with them, I love taking them places, but if I don't get away with my husband by myself at times, then we are no longer a joined force in the family unit, but two individual members of that unit. I believe that there is comfort in a united front from Mommy and Daddy to everyone in the family. Proof of this is the pain and struggle of the family unit when there is disunity in the marriage. I also believe this is one reason why in marriage, God tells us that we become one. It's not "me" working alone on the family unit; it is "we" working on the family unit. I'm never working against Dean, I'm always working along side him. It makes things a lot less lonely and weary when you have someone at your shoulder to lean on when you get tired.
    All that being said, I know it's hard to get away to date sometimes. It was easy when it was just Princess. People fought over babysitting her. Now that we have three, it a much bigger commitment to keep our kids for a date night. In addition, the fact that we both work full-time keeps our sitters pretty busy, and there are times when we would desperately love to go somewhere, anywhere together and just talk, but there's just no way to make it happen. We've adapted though, and something we've always done as a simple gesture has become an important moment away in our minds, we dance in the kitchen. Dean is a wonderful man to be willing to help me clean the house after working (most days two different jobs) all day. We get the little ones to sleep and double team the mess in our house. We also turn on some music. It's not usually romantic music, just songs we like. Dean is a huge fan of 90s music, so we sometimes find ourselves dancing to Nirvana, Bush, Foo Fighters, or even whatever is on a station of the sort. We also pull out our old wedding song "Broken Road" by Rascal Flats and dance to that. We just hug up and slow dance around the kitchen, or living room, or whatever room we happen to be cleaning at the time. It seems like the kitchen is the room that we usually end up dancing in, so that is what I think of when I imagine us dancing. It's a moment in his arms when I can block out whatever stress is going on in life and just remember who we are as a couple. It's a small thing, but aren't the small things in life the ones that stand out in our minds? If I'm frustrated, feeling that I'm carrying a heavier load than I can handle, feeling tired from motherhood, or even just feeling angry at Dean over whatever married people get angry about, just a small dance around the kitchen helps. If there isn't any music easily available, we just dance anyway. We destress for a moment, and then we suit back up, and go back for more of what life has to offer.

     Maybe this post is a strange one for you, but I have a feeling that someone out there needed to see this, and if you are a wife or one day may be, then here's my prayer for you:

"Dear God, thank You so much for creating the marriage relationship. Thank You for sending me a wonderful man to love and honor in this life. Thank You for working in him and drawing him to You. Help me to be the wife I should be, and help me to love my husband as I should. Please help my sisters in Christ out there as they deal with the stress of life. Help them to draw closer to their husbands and to You. Lord, please give them moments of peace in marriage, and God, if any of my sisters are in a relationship with a husband who doesn't know you, help them be the light leading to You, God. Touch our husband's lives; bless them, Lord. Show them your favor. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You. Amen."

I'm including this picture, which is actually way more glamorous than our usual dances. We were dressed up to chaperone a prom here, and I had a photographer (aka my mom) at hand. I knew I wanted to deal with this in a post soon, so I asked her to snap a picture of us dancing. Usually, I'm in sweats, a t-shirt, and my bare feet so I'm standing on my toes. Sometimes, there are little ones at our knees dancing along or crying to be picked up. It doesn't normally look this glamorous, but it always feels just as special.

Be the Peace

2013-04-15T11:33:00.003-07:00

     I had the strangest nightmare the other morning, and I've been quietly turning it over in my mind ever since in an attempt to find the spiritual lesson in it. I'm going to tell you about it, but I'm not going to name a few key people, because I don't want to freak anyone out... You'll see what I mean.

        All at once, I'm standing in the middle of a playground with two small children who are very dear to me. I'm just letting everything come into focus in my mind when I realize that my dream has no sound. What's even more odd is that it's a deafening silence, as if someone has hit the mute button, but I can still hear the little buzz of sound trying to come through. It's an amazingly bright day, and everything seems to have a glare from the sun. In an instance, I know for a fact that, even though I can't hear it, someone has fired a gun into the crowd, and I turn without thinking and catch one of my little dears as they fall. I calmly tell the other child to duck down next to me, and I know the little one does so. I don't know how I know all of these things, I just do. Here's the crazy thing: I am not afraid. Normally in such a dream, my heart would be pounding out of my chest. It's not. I absolutely know that my little dear one will be okay, I know that there will be no more gunshots, I know the shooter will get caught. There is absolute chaos around me. I realize that the park is in the middle of a wooded area, and everyone is running into the woods. I wonder to myself why they are so panicked. I notice that my instincts kicked in because I have my hand over the wound on the little one's side to stop any blood loss. I know that no organs were hit by the bullet. The child isn't panicked, but just lays calmly, allowing me to apply pressure. Both of my little dear ones are calm; we know that help is coming. We know that if he just stay where we are, if we keep our position, everything will be okay.

As suddenly as the dream began, I awoke. I waited for the fear to creep over me. It is an extremely bothersome dream, I know. However, I never become afraid. (It may not seem that bad to you as you read it, but think of a small child you love dearly being present with you during such a dream. It's horrific to the point that I almost didn't write this post.) This lack of fear is very unlike me. I have always hated nightmares. They plagued me as a child so badly that my sweet mother would write down scriptures and put them in my room, and when we prayed together, I would pray that I would not dream at all. I hated any dream, because I associated dreaming with fear. I laid in my bed after I awoke from that dream, waiting for the fear, almost hoping for it since I knew I should be bothered by such a dream. I walked back through the whole thing in my mind so that I could tell Dean about it. (He had already gone out to work on the farm, and I was afraid I would forget it before I saw him at lunch.) All I felt was the same peace that dominated my dream. I was left feeling calm and wondering: what does that dream mean?
     I immediately felt like the dream must have meant something. It had to serve a spiritual purpose. It has been over a week, and this is what I have gathered. (Maybe I'm looking too closely at this dream, but I couldn't let such a crazy dream go without trying to learn something from it.) This is a crazy world filled with danger, anger, hate, and chaos. However, as a child of God, I have the opportunity to be the peace for those around me. I can be the calm eye in the hurricane of life for my family. When I think of the Godly women I know, they have one thing in common. They are the anchor of their family. They are, in essence, home to their husbands and children. They are the ones who everyone tells their problems to, the one giving constant, unconditional encouragement, and they emit peace to the family unit. In the midst of troubled times, even though my mom herself might have been stressed to the max, she brought comfort and peace to the rest of us. I think that is what God was trying to show me. Just like in the dream, I can keep a peaceful heart because I know things will be okay, even when danger is present. I can rest peacefully, even when I'm in the middle of surviving this life because I know from where my help comes. I can have peace, even when the unseen enemy attacks because I know that God will be my vengeance. I can keep a calm heart, even in the middle of life's nightmares becasue His peace rests within me. I just have to praise God every time I think about that awful dream.
     I still don't really understand how such a terrible dream could give me so much peace in my heart, but isn't that the amazing thing about our God? He can take the most horrible of things and use them for good. Somebody better be shouting about that out there!! I know this particular post is a bizarre one, so I'll try to post again this week. I just wanted to share this lesson with you while it was fresh in my mind. I wanted to show how peace can be present at unexpected moments in our hearts. I pray for peace constantly, and I'm so amazed that I found it in the middle of one of the worst nightmares I have ever had. I don't know how many of you are seeking peace in your lives right now, but I want to share a scripture with you that my mommy wrote on a post it and put on my mirror as a teenager. It helped me with it's literal meaning, but I hung on to it, and it has helped me during times when my sleep was robbed, not by nightmares, but by other things such as stress, anxiety, depression, anger, or even nerves. Maybe it will help you too. I usually end with a prayer, but at my darkest times, I would just read this scripture as my prayer when I couldn't form words of my own. If you ever find yourself there, maybe you can do the same.

"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety."( Psalms 4:8)

The Rash of Resentment

2013-04-03T19:27:00.001-07:00

     I've decided that nothing rubs you raw quite like resentment. One of my sweet little angels, Bubby, gets diaper rashes very easily. To complicate matters, he's allergic to most diaper ointments (you know, only the ones that actually work). We try our best to prevent diaper rash, as most parents do I suppose, but no matter what we do, he sometimes eats or drinks something that comes out in a toxic way and leaves a rash behind. I tell you all of this, not so that he'll have a reason to hate me when he's older, but as a comparison in my life. I don't know if everyone in the world struggles with resentment or if it's just me, but I try my best to just avoid situations or feelings that I know will lead to resentment in my life, because, well, it just rubs me raw. It leaves me irritated, frustrated, and all around grumpy; I end up much like Bubby when he gets held down for me to rub that poor excuse for an ointment on his little tail...I'm ready to fight for all I'm worth, even if I know I shouldn't. However, try as I may, there are times when resentment creeps up on me, and I'm learning to read the signs.
     Spring time should be a happy time, but it's one of the hardest times for me in struggling with resentment. All around me, I see people exercising, dieting, tanning, and doing other self-help type things to prepare for....well, I don't know what they are preparing for, but I want in on it. I want to get tan for vacation (which doesn't make much sense really). I want to lose 15 pounds before that vacation (so I can eat like a pig and gain it back while on said vacay). I want to exercise (kinda). I know I sound whiny. (I literally laughed at myself as I typed the last sentence, because a spiritual blogger would have followed the statement up with a "but" phrase that justified the statement, but I've got nothing.) I just want to be able to work on myself sometimes, but I find myself in this wonderfully blessed life that just doesn't allow for these little privileges anymore. Every single Spring since having my first child, I have cycled through 1. low-self esteem, 2. anger, and then 3. resentment. Dean tries to help me with this issue, but Spring is a pretty big time for him too. Spring is when his second full time job of farming really kicks back in, and making time for me to go hike the trail at the park just doesn't seem all that important to either of us many days. That doesn't mean I always make the sacrifice with a joyful heart though. Then, to make things even better, people say, "Oh, just get you a little exercise video to do at home." Don't worry fellow mothers, no other female with three small children has been foolish enough to suggest this. It's not that it's a bad idea, it's just an impossible one. The only way I would be able to successfully complete an exercise video with my three kids present is if I locked them out of the room, and I'm pretty sure they'd destroy the room that they were gated into just to get back at me (not even taking into account that my five year old can climb any gate we own). To be honest, I've had to let them completely destroy the living room just to type this blog, and I've had to stop eight different times to scold or rescue my little (ahem) angels. Then, there's the commentary from my brutally honest five year old from the time I tried exercising with her when the duo was napping..."You don't look like that lady"... "You're belly jiggles"..We won't go further. Anyway, back on track with resentment. My ultimate question is, "How do I control this resentment"?
     I've been working on just that. I can't pay another sitter to come in so that I can workout an hour a day. (Well, I technically could, but I don't feel right doing it right now.) I can't change my lack of time for myself. I can't make my daily routine include more "me time". However, I can try to control my resentment. Now don't roll your eyes, because I hate those, "You can't control the situation, but you can control how you react to the situation" sayings just as much as you, but I honestly have to either succumb to the resentment or move past it. I looked up some scriptures about resentment, and here's some of what I found:

“The godless in heart harbor resentment"(Job 36:13 )
"Resentment kills a fool"(Job 5:2)
"And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful."(2 Timothy 2:24)

Well, you didn't expect it to be complimentary did you? Ouch, though. It did kind of hurt. I knew resentment was bad for me, but to be called godless, a fool, and quarrelsome. YIKES!! That is what we English folk refer to as a Shrew in Literature, and my husband might not always disagree as far as it describing me. So here's the thing ladies: Being a mom is hard (so is being an adult..or a human for that matter!). I don't have the awesome body and nice tan that I had but didn't appreciate when I was young. I don't have time to put together a diet that I can go on but despise now that I'm so busy raising kids. It's not all about me. BUT THAT'S OKAY! Now, I just have to get over that fact, and be happy with the time I do have for myself, the body I'm left with after it has done its child bearing duties. I have to enjoy every bite of sinful chocolate I sneak from my kids' Easter baskets (finally, an easy one!). I also have to fight off the devil's attempts at making me resentful. Careful ladies, he's smart. He'll stand right by you and whisper in your ear that your husband just doesn't appreciate all you do. He'll make you look longingly at how tiny that lady is in the Wal-mart line (who, by the way, has never had twins). He will show you on TV what a woman is "supposed to be". Don't buy in to the resentment. It's a lie. It'll make you a quarrelsome, godless fool. I don't know exactly what that looks like, but I can guarantee, it's not a happy picture. Let's end with a prayer for the resentful among us:

"Dear Father, life is hard. It's not fair. As women, we sometimes get resentful of our jobs, our places in this society, and frankly, Lord, we get resentful of each other. And wrongly so. FORGIVE US WE BEG! May we always remember who our King is. In those weak moments when resenment comes creeping in, help us to cling to your promises God. Help us remember how precious we are to You. Help us remember how precious our dear little families are that we work so hard to protect. God our love for You and them is so great, but so overwhelming that our weak human selves just can't handle it sometimes. Help us to step back, breathe, and put it all in prospective. We praise You, God, for all that You have given us. Thank You for the unfairness, Thank You for difficulties, Thank You for peace that passes understanding. Thank You for hope in a hopeless world. We love You, we love You, we love You. Amen."

Breaking the Silence in my Spiritual Trial

2013-01-13T12:58:00.003-08:00

     Hello long lost friends. First, I want to apologize for being gone so long without so much as an explanation. My last post promised a journey towards refuge from a weary refugee, and then I basically fell off the face of the social media earth for a while only to pop back up recently. I wish I could say that my journey is complete and that is was quick, painless, and I am right now resting in my spiritual place of refuge. However, I can't.
    Side note* Have you ever ulgy cried? You know what I mean. The kind of cry where you lose control of all facial features and it's not just letting a tear roll here and there, but you have snot dripping, your face is contorted, and your coloring has gone haywire. Well, I've done so much of that lately that it's not even funny. Anytime I refer to crying in this post, you can safely assume I am referring to ugly crying, not movie star crying where one tear drop delicately rolls down my face. I'm just not that kind of girl...*
   I am still going through one of the toughest trials of my spiritual life. I wasn't exactly sure what was going on with me spiritually for a long time, but I know now. I thought at least knowing what God was doing in me would help. It doesn't. I thought I had been through spiritual trials before in my life, and I have, but on a different scale. You see, as we grow spiritually, so do our trials. It is awesome that God finds us worthy of testing, but don't go glamorizing the process, it hurts. Dictionary.com defines a trial as, "the act of trying, testing, or putting to the proof. A tentative or experimental action in order to ascertain results; experiment." This lets us know that a trial does not last forever and the purpose is to get results. What results will it yield? Well, that depends on us. Trials are often a painful part of our spiritual walk, so the bigger the trial, the more painful the moment in life that trial may produce (not always I suppose). This trial has been a bizarre one for me.
     As I said in my previous post, my one strength in my Christian walk is my ability to communicate with God. That's about all I had going for me, so I took great pride in that one strength, and you know what the Bible says about pride, it "comes before the fall". Well, my trial is this. Not only did I quit hearing from God. I started feeling as if he didn't hear me.   Now, I know because the Bible tells me so, the God hears my prayers. However, when it feels as if God doesn't hear you for one day, it's easy to tell yourself that He hears you even if it doesn't feel like it. When you feel like God doesn't hear you for a week, it's a little harder. Two months later, you find yourself throwing a hissy fit on God asking Him why He is mad at you, crying like a baby, rolling on the floor like a little kid in the check out at walmart thinking that making a ridiculous display will force the parent's hand. Anyone else been there? I was doing the seek and pray thing until I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown, and to be honest, most of the people closest to me were getting pretty worried too. To make sure He really had my attention, God didn't just stop there with the trial.
     Dean and I also started having strange things happen that would make life stressful financially. Car trouble, hot water heater breakdown, closing costs on a loan that were triple what we had been told, more car trouble (talk about a rough month). I wasn't sure we could handle much more bad news. Then my dad told me he had gotten a promotion...and relocated. yay (read with sarcasm). Now they haven't relocated yet, but you all know how much I depend on my mother and the army around me just to survive, so losing her is like cutting off one of my arms. There were other little nuances as well that the devil threw in the way just to trip me up, but it always went back to the fact that I just couldn't see what God was doing. What was He preparing me for? If I could just see a reason, a point, get a word of encouragement from Him, then I could make it through.
     I tried to just keep pushing on. I kept up with my responsibilities at home, work, and church. Actually, if something extra needed to be done at church, I picked up on it and took over. There weren't necessarily big things to take, just little things to plan here and there. Still, nothing, silence. I thought for sure He would give in eventually and just talk to me. Finally, I got a chance to talk to JoyMac, one of my friends at work who I always go to for spiritual advice. I was sitting in her room blubbering on and on about how I was praying and seeking my little heart out and getting nowhere, when finally, she said, "Now don't get mad, but why don't you just stop? Maybe you just need to quit talking and listen. Maybe you're looking and looking, and what God wants is for you to let Him lead you."  Ouch. I don't know about you, but when my friends start out with the phrase "don't get mad", they are about to say something they know I need to hear, but they know I am not going to want to hear. Thankfully I also have friends who love me enough to say it anyway and who know how to say it in love. She's right. I've spent my whole life preparing myself for God to use me, and now that I don't know what to "do" in preparation to be used, I'm at a loss. That is one thing this trial is all about.  It is in part at least to make me stop working towards a goal of readiness.
     The trial still isn't over, and I'm not sure why. In the darkest point of this trial, I finally said to God, "I know You're there, I know You love me, and I know You hear my prayers. I know You're faithful to me, and I will be faithful to You, no matter what." It was all I could pray for a while. It was that or nothing, honestly, so I thought that was better than nothing at all. Somedays, I still put that in there. Then, somedays, I would have a small breakthrough during that prayer. Other days, I would be listening to the radio and have a breakthrough in a song. One day I was singing "How Great Thou Art" in my car and had a break through. I didn't hear God speaking, but I felt His comfort, and that was enough. I just needed something, just a little touch to know I hadn't been completely forsaken, just a hand on my shoulder, even for a moment so that I knew I could make it through. I'm not saying I have gone through this trial gracefully. I have spent many a Sunday crying so hard the whole church service people have asked me if I'm okay after church. I have been affected emotionally so much that when my mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas, Princess spoke up and said, "I know! What she wants is to not have a nervous breakdown, Nana." Out of the mouth of babes, huh? My poor husbad has prayed with and for me, and I've apologized so many times for dragging him through this trial with me. Maybe had I been more faithful, I could be on the mountain top looking down on this experience now rather than making my slow climb up still. But it isn't all bad. Even in the trial there were blessings and happiness. I learned new things from myself, I saw new strength in my husband, and I sought new truth in the scriptures.
     One of my favorite biblical characters, David, encouraged me through my trial. I've always loved him because even though at one point he was a colossal failure as a person, Christian, and leader, he loved God so unashamedly and he always gave God credit for his redemption. When I just couldn't take it anymore, I would go to the Psalms and just skim through until I found a first verse that suited me, and then I would read the whole chapter. David (though he didn't write all of the Psalms, he wrote most of them, and my Bible tells me which ones) would praise God through everything. Sometimes with a happy heart, sometimes with a broken heart, sometimes for his people, and sometimes for himself. Amazing. Here are some beginings I like. "Have mercy upon me, O God, According to You lovingkindness; According to the multitude of your tender mercies, Blot out my transgressions" (Ps 51:1) "I waited patiently for the Lord; And He inclined to me, And heard my cry." (Ps. 40:1) "I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth" (Ps. 34:1) I read these and tried to mean them even if I didn't. I read them and cried, I read them and laughed, I read them and related, and sometimes I read them and felt nothing. I'm on trial. I don't know when it will be over, but hiding away won't make it end faster. For those of you out there going through a trial yourself, here is my prayer for both of us:
"God, help us as we go through trials. Help us to know that they are not to hurt us, but that they will make us stronger. God, please help us stay faithful to You no matter what we may face in this life. God we love You. I ask that You protect my friends and put up a shield of love around them. I ask that you cover us with Your comfort. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You. Amen."

From refugee to refuge

2012-10-14T11:55:00.000-07:00

     Let's first begin by defining some terms together in order to be certain we're all on the same page. According to dictionary.com, refuge is "shelter or protection from danger, trouble, etc.". It defines refugee as, "a person who has fled from some danger or problem, esp political persecution". My idea for this blog is discovering how to go from being a refugee to finding refuge. When I think of the term refugee, I think of one who is running for his/her life in that moment of definition. I think of someone who is in danger, one who is struggling, one who is anxious. Once the person has found refuge, they would probably no longer use that term as their identifier (in my mind). I constantly feel like a refugee in life. I feel like I am running from one thing and toward another, and as hard as I try and pray, I can't seem to break the cycle. I'm tired of feeling as if I have my whole world shoved in a pack and strapped to my back. I'm tired of feeling like a failure when I know I'm not, not yet anyway. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not doing something well, or that I'm not good enough. Mostly, I'm tired of feeling tired. I know I complain about this a lot, but stay with me, I promise there is something relatable for most people in here...
   Satan knows how to get to me in life. He starts giving me thoughts that start out simple and true but then turn into something ugly and evil. I constantly have thoughts like: "I'm frustrated at home because I'm tired of staying behind on things that need to be done." It's a true thought. There is nothing at all wrong with feeling frustrated over being behind on laundry, struggling to keep your kitchen clean (relatively at least), or forgetting to pay a bill on time. However, my thought, after a while, becomes: "I'm a failure as a person because I can't even keep up with laundry, my kitchen is disgusting, and I can't even manage finances. I GIVE UP!" Do you see how a simple, true thought has led me to a place of hopelessness? IT'S LAUNDRY!! WHO CARES?!?! We all know the answer to that, me. In your case, you. We do care. We have to care actually, because laundry does eventually have to be done. The danger and evil are in the progression from frustration to hopelessness. Here's another one. I begin with the thought:"I'm frustrated at work, because I can't stay caught up with my work, and I don't feel like I even know my co-workers anymore." In a few weeks the thought becomes, "I hate my job because I am a failure at it, and there's no way I could ever do any better than I am now because I don't have any more of myself to give." The first thought is simple and true. The second thought is not. It is destructive; it is hopeless. I'm tired of taking those thoughts, piled up with more thoughts which are related to things as simple as menuing, grocery shopping, or making dinner, to things as important as, health, weight, and relationships, and having to run as far and fast as I can in what I assume to be the right direction. Where then, is my refuge?
   I know that literally God is my refuge, but how do I find my way to His place of comfort? We all know, thanks to Science class, that it takes more energy to begin motion than to keep something in motion. My problem is that I feel the need to literally stay in motion. Have you ever said something like: "I better do it now, because once I sit down, I won't get back up"? I do. That means that I run in from work, immediately begin cooking dinner while trying to play with and hold my kids, feed them as soon as it's ready, hurry and clean the kitchen, work on whatever other thing is absolutely necessary for the day, and then collapse around the time my kids go to bed. What part of the day was enjoyed? None of it. Sad, huh? It's amazing that the days I accomplish the most, are sometimes the most miserable. I take this as proof that my joy is being stolen by my obligations. My God and my family are what is most important to me, but those are the places where my life suffers.
   Dean and I are constantly saying that we don't want our kids to get the worst of us. We want to give them the best of who we are, and we want to give each other the best of ourselves as well. It's hard though, because we use ourselves up before we get a chance to really even be together. My relationship with God suffers because my quiet time either doesn't happen or becomes a complaint session on my part. I pray a great deal, without ceasing so to speak, but I'm pretty sure my prayers are starting to sound like directions given from a waitress to a short order cook. "I need an order of peace with a side of patience and kindness! Don't forget to go heavy on the blessings, please! Oh, and you didn't forget about the hope I'll need later!" Forgive me, Lord...Or maybe I sound more like a sick patient in with the doctor, "You see, I need help with this pesky little ache of stress, and then I need you to fix the heartache from missing my kids, and then I need you to take a look at making me happier, and if you could, maybe you could soothe this little frustration over here, and then.........." God help me remember who You are.
     I've always spoken very openly to God, I mean He does know everything anyway. As a child, I basically adopted the idea that God is who I am constantly addressing in my every thought. Rather than ping ponging thoughts around with myself, I feel that God is who I am really wanting feedback from, so I constantly talk to Him. It has made me good at prayer. The problem is that I still need to set aside prayer time. Talking to Him all day has, in some ways, hurt the way I talk to Him. I need prayer time where I am still and quiet, waiting for a word. It's great to pray constantly, but I need to remember that I can't always be the one doing all the talking. God knows my heart. He knows that I am sincere in my prayers, and He knows that I acknowledge Him as the creator of the universe. I am the slave, and He is my master. I mean no disrespect in my prayers that come out sounding demanding or whiny, but I still don't want that to be my instinct. I want to go from feeling like a refugee, to resting in my refuge. I just haven't gotten there yet.
     I am determined to take action in this situation. I need to change several habits in myself in order to do so. I need to work on my prayer life, enjoying my children and husband, and trying to find balance in necessities. My first goal is to change my prayer habits. Every time I catch myself saying one of those split second "God, please help me" prayers, I will add to it a praise and acknowledgment of His greatness. I will make sure that at some point each day I seek God's will for me. Step one starts this week. I will let you know how it goes, and I sincerely hope that if you are in the same situation I am, you will try this with me. Here's my prayer for week 1 of going from refugee to refuge:
"Lord, You are so awesome. You are why I am alive, and God, You are what I live for. Help me to remember that You are my reason for living as I go through this life. I want my every thought to be pleasing to You God. I was not put here to live a life of stress and anxiety but to bring glory to You, and while I know that this imperfect world is full of those things, I also know that in You, I can find peace. I am so sorry for becoming the mess I am. I beg your forgiveness, and I praise You for Your love and blessings. Please guide me on this journey to Your refuge, God. I seek Your face. Bless my friends who need this journey as well. We await Your guiding touch, and we praise You no matter the outcome. We want to be the women You created us to be, and we will start now. We bless the Creator of the universe. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You. Amen"

Mother of the year....NOT!

2012-10-03T11:53:00.001-07:00

So I found myself in this situation a few weeks ago where I was driving down the road after literally running out of my work place (don't worry, I got my class covered), telling myself not to cry, get upset, or even show any sign of stress. I had somehow forgotten to get Princess picked up from school. Luckily, the sweet ladies at preschool were taking good care of her by having her just keep on going into the afternoon program like nothing was wrong. I was devastated. Princess seemed fine, but she asked several times that day why she had to stay late. This is when it is hard to be a working mom when you're shuffling everyone between so many people that something gets forgotten. My mom normally picks Princess up on that day, but she was on vacation and somehow I had forgotten. It's an honest mistake, but what if Princess hadn't been in a school that offers such a wonderful environment? To make things worse, it happened again the next week. Luckily, my father-in-law called to check, which prompted my babysitter to call SIL, who then went and got her. It worked out, but the fact still remains that I forgot to have it taken care of, which bothers me. I feel like I am absolutely doing the best I can with the juggling act I have in life, but there are still some major moments of failure, and I honestly don't know how to do any better than I am doing now. I go through times when I say I'm going to quit my job and stay home so that I don't have to worry about the hectic schedule I have, but then we'd have to give up private preschool, my health insurance, my retirement, and basically all unnecessary things in life...HMMM..nah! I could hire someone fulltime to keep my twins everyday and pay (at the very least) $600 every four weeks....*Cough* Not an option....I have a calendar that I fill out to help, but there are always little added things and changes that I just can't adjust for most weeks. It's a stressful, seemingly hopeless cause which makes me feel like a failure.
AND THEN I REMEMBER as a 9 year old girl getting left at the church by my parents who had driven separate cars, not once, but twice. I remember my dad's secretary having to come to the school 15 minutes after it ended to pick me up once. These aren't important memories, they are just things that happened. The schedule got hectic, an appointment ran late, I got lost in the shuffle. I didn't feel any less loved. I didn't feel distressed by the evidently hectic lifestyle my parents were leading. In fact, until just this moment, I assumed that my life now is more chaotic than my mother's was at my age. How selfish is that? I believe myself to be an exception in my chaos when in reality I am simply an average mother. Is it right? Does this make it okay? Has our society done this at harm to us? I don't know the answer to these questions. One thing I do know is that no matter what the situation, motherhood is hard. It is hectic, stressful, and sometimes frustrating, but man is it worth it!
I love being a mother. I am so proud of my children who are so special as little individuals. I look at them and constantly see all the good in the world. Maybe I do fail sometimes, but they all know at the end of the day that mommy loves them so much. For them, that's enough. So, I'll pick myself up, brush off the dust of guilt, lean on Jesus, and walk on forward in this journey...and all the while, I'll still be learning to love the chaos.

Mirror, Mirror

2012-09-12T19:45:00.002-07:00

     I'm sure there is a moment in every mother's life when she looks at her child, or children, and feels as if she is looking directly into a mirror. This has been happening to me a lot lately. I can think of several different occasions within the past two weeks that I looked at each child individually and saw myself. The problem with it is that I didn't see the good version of myself that I have pictured in my head. I saw the uncontrolled, pushy, demanding, temperamental parts. Geez.
    We'll start with Bubby, since he's the least like me. He has this tendency to just plow over people to get what he wants. He will literally run over his twin to get to me. If I'm standing at the sink washing dishes and he wants me to pick him up, he forces his little body between my legs and the cabinets and pushes with all his weight against it to get me away from the sink. I don't know where he learned to be so adamant about getting his way. Oh wait...
     Then there is Tinker Belle, who is mostly expressionless. She has recently learned a new look. It's the "I'm gonna kill you" (but not literally) look. If you say something she doesn't like or look at her a certain way, she lowers her little eyebrows at you. I can't imagine where she saw such a mean look. Well, maybe...
   Lastly, there is Princess, my mini-me in life. She was nagging (ahem) me about wanting something for two straight hours before I lost my cool and ranted about how she had to stop nagging me, during which my voice cracked and I almost cried, which made her begin to cry because she can't handle it when I cry, and she yelled back at me in the same tone, with the same desperate expression that she just couldn't help it. It was some twilight zone type stuff...THEN she developed an unexplainable fear of our bathrooms. She doesn't want to be in there by herself, and it's not exactly easy to drop everything and take her all the time. This fear started randomly because of a decorative crab made of brass that was my grandmothers. I can't imagine why anyone would have such a bizarre fear..(*nervous chuckle*) Wonder where that came from? Perhaps it could be...

     I know that I have some good traits as a person. I truly care about people, I'm tender-hearted, and I am loving. Why is it then that I feel like the only traits I have given my children are bad ones? My parents told me once before the twins were born that Princess was strong willed and that while she needs to learn control, that is a trait that will help make her successful in life. I'm not sure it's very endearing in preschool, but I know they are right. I also know that the trait came from me. Dean is definitely strong-willed, but she got the agressiveness from her mother. I sit here asking myself, "Why don't they mimic the good things?" "Do I not do anything that is positive in front of them?" "Do I subconsciously only see the bad traits I pass along to them?" "Should I start saving up for bail in the future?" (just kidding)

This is one of those times that I'm just going to have to try to improve the personality traits I project and pray really hard. Here's the best I can do in my current state:

"Dear God, you know I'm crazy. You also know that I don't want to make my children that way by showing them only uncontrolled behavior traits. Help me, God, to realize that I have three little people depending on me to stay close to You so they can learn how to act. Make me better, Lord, as a person, mother, wife, teacher, and woman. I will praise You forever. Amen."

Sparrows (and other little things)

2012-09-05T12:12:00.001-07:00

^"29Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.³⁰And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. ³¹So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Matthew 10: 20-32

"Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" (Matthew 6:26)

     I've always loved these verses of scripture that remind us of how God feels about us as well as the song they are said to inspire. That song, "His Eye is on the Sparrow" written by Cevilla Martin, has always spoken to me in an intense way, especially the key line that says, "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me." I am in awe that I serve a Creator who takes care of even the smallest of His creations. What is even more humbling to me is that He doesn't just watch over me, insignificant speck that I am, He also cares for the "insignificant" parts of my life. Why is it He does so? He has an entire universe under His watch and care, so surely I can tend to the little things in life, right? Even if I mess up the little things, they aren't going to destroy my being, so why does He feel the need to tend to my tiniest of woes? Let's think about it...
     I found myself with only my youngest of children at home the other evening, which rarely happens. Princess was with Papaw, Tinker had charmed Dean into taking her with him on the tractor, and Bubby was left with me. He was grumpy from allergies and not at all happy about being left behind. At 14 months old, he didn't understand why a little case of allergies made a ride through a hay field with Dad a bad idea. In an attempt to cheer him up, I did what I knew he would love best...I took him outside. Those who know me, know that this is a big deal. I am not crazy about being outside just for the sake of being outdoors. I have no problem with the outdoors, I just get bored hanging out in the yard. I really wanted to be inside cleaning up so that I could get in bed as early as possible, but I knew it would help Bubby's mood, so out we went. I've already confessed that I'm bad at imaginative play, but in addition, I'm also bad at coming up with a way to play outside (I mean that is why we bought a swing set, right?). At a loss for what to do, I walked him around the yard, looked at the butterflies on the butterfly bush, knocked off the tiny flowers on the white crepe bush, piled the few dead leaves up in a tiny bunched for him to stomp through, and had a little tickle fight on the ground. The tickle fight was his favorite part. He'd throw his little head back and let out a laugh that surely started in his toes. He'd start laughing before my hands could even touch him. He looked at me with those blue eyes that you could swim laps in, and I know for sure that I saw true joy deep within them. Then it hit me.
     It was the small gestures of my attention that made him so joyful. The time and effort I put into helping him forget how bad he felt made him feel loved. At one point, he wrapped his chubby little arms around my neck and planted a slobbery kiss right on my face. Would he have been okay if I had stayed in and let him follow me from room to room while straightening up? Sure, but he would have been miserable and the mood would probably have worn off onto me. Why then, would I put off things that had to be done in order to just cheer him up and tend to the little problems in his life? Because I love him, of course. A sense of renewal ran through me as I realized that God wants to do just that for us. He wants to take us out of our sour mood and show us the beauty and joys of life. He wants to give us moments of love and affection. He wants us to know that even the little moments matter, and we're not alone. What a wonderful Savior we have.
If ever you feel alone, ladies, just remember, you serve a God of the details. For surely, if His eye is on the sparrow, He's watching you and me too.

"God, I'm so in awe of Your love, that I am truly speechless in Your presence. Thank You for caring about the little things. I will love, praise, and worship You forever."

The problem with GUILT and SPANX

2012-08-31T12:47:00.001-07:00

The problem with guilt and spanx is that they'll both make you find yourself in a moment of panic when you realize you can't breathe.

First and foremost, you need to know what spanx are. Some women feel them to be a wonderful tool of compacting your body so that nothing jiggles. They are sort of like control top panty hose on steriods. You can buy them in various lengths and they extend up to your ribcage. It's sort of like being a tightly packed sausage link. While nothing jiggles and you do feel thinner, you should never try to take a "short" potty break, because these bad boys are not easy to get on and off. Do yourself a favor and give up liquids for the day. If you feel like you're going to pass out, it's normal.

     As you all know very well, I'm never short on things to feel guilty over. As an educator, I'm given a nice amount of time off throughout the year to be with my kids. The drawback to that fact is that I feel like we are settled into a routine just long enough to get comfortable, then it changes for a week, two weeks, or the summer. Then, we adjust to a new little schedule and things change again. It's like starting a new job every year, and having just enough breaks to make you want more. PLEASE don't think I'm complaining. I honestly don't think I could do anything that required more time from my kids, so I'm extremely thankful for my job, but there's always a little guilt involved when my little chickies have to readjust and I'm forced to leave them crying after me. This is has been the worst year so far.
     Princess was elated to begin preschool. (She attends a half day session at a Christian preschool nearby.) The first two days were wonderful. Despite the fact that she has never had to get up at a certain time in the morning, she hopped up, got dressed, and was ready to go. After those two days, however, she informed me that she would not be returning to preschool, and as a matter of fact, she didn't think her dad should go back either. If he were to decide to stay home, she reasoned, she could simply give him the money from her piggy bank so we could pay bills. As precious as the offer was, I had to break it to her that preschool wasn't something she could quit. Thus began the mommy guilt.
     Due to the location of the preschool in repect to our work, I am the one who takes Princess to school. I have to drop her off as early as they are accepted in order to make it to work on time. However, Princess decided (AFTER entering the school on the third day) that she didn't want me to leave so quickly and began crying rather obnoxiously. It was every mothers nightmare. My child seemed broken hearted and I had no choice but to 1. leave her crying and feel heartless OR 2. give in and forever cement in her mind that throwing a tantrum will get her way. There's no way to win. Maybe, MAYBE, if I hadn't left two crying 13 month olds at home, my heart wouldn't have hurt so badly as I peeled her off of my leg, handed her to the teacher, and turned around and left. I doubt it, but maybe.
     I headed to work that day in my "teacher clothes", i.e. dress clothes. I'm not the size I was right after having the twins, but I'm not exactly back in my old clothes either, so I have to decide each morning if my clothes are going to be a bit too loose for comfort or a bit too tight for comfort. (I know buying new ones would make sense, but my pride and my wallet don't agree.) Anyway, I had found a solution to the problem of my skirt not wanting to zip: I found a pair of spanx that had been given to me by my mother or a friend close enough to give you something of the sort and put them on. I know I didn't buy them because I would never willingly buy a torture device. I'll be honest though, I kind of liked that they made my clothes fit better, even if the phrase "stuffed sausage" ran through my mind several times as I got ready. It sure did make that zipper feel better.
     I was running late for work, so I rushed in the building and got a little winded in the process. I was feeling anxious because teaching isn't one of those jobs you can actually be late for and I hate cutting it close. I was feeling nervous, frustrated, guilty, sad, and a little weary. I knew I'd make it throught the day though, God had my back, and even though I hadn't said much to Him, I felt pretty secure for the day ahead because I stopped by a friend's room and asked her to pray for me. (I figure if I'm not up to it myself, I should at least have someone else intercede, right?) The day continued, and I don't remember much about it.
     At the end of the day, I went to leave and realized that I had lost my keys. I went to the first floor, got the secretary's keys, walked back up the three flights of stairs, and looked for my keys (which were in the bag I had carried down and back up with me). When I finally got into my car, I was once again winded. When I couldn't catch my breath, I realized I was having some sort of attack. I freaked out a little, prayed, called Dean, and drove all at the same time. When I came out of it, I realized that something had to change...
     I'm going to be honest, I still don't know if it was the guilt or the spanx that led me to the panic attack I had in the car. Just to be sure it doesn't happen again, I swore both of them off. I realized a rather humorous comparison between spanx and guilt: they will both squeeze the life out of you if you let them. I had carried around my guilt for so many days that I had just wrapped myself in it to make it easier to carry. I wrapped it tighter and tighter throughout the day without even realizing it, and it began to strangle me, literally. While the fact that my stomach was squished all day might not have helped, I know my spirit was the real source of the attack, but I had hardened my heart in order to make it through the day. "I can't deal with this right now, God". I tend to say that so often lately. I figured if I could just push it down, and push it down, I would be able to quench it out completely. I was wrong. God wouldn't let me forced it away, not because He wanted me to feel guilty, but because He wanted me to give it to Him. I did.
     As I was driving down the road, with Dean on the phone telling me to pull the stinking car over before I wrecked, I gave it to God. And you know what? I realized I didn't want it anyway. Clinging to that guilt didn't make me stronger, it didn't make me a better mother, and it sure didn't make me a better driver. Why God, do I cling to the things that hurt me? I'll never know. Here's my prayer for those of us who tend to wear our guilt like a tight pair of spanx:

God, You know my heart. You know how much I love my family, and You know how much I love You. Forgive me for taking on guilt that keeps me from being as close to You as I can. Help me to fight off Satan's attacks when he brings me guilt to wear. Make me the best I can be. Bring comfort to the ladies around me. Help us realize we are not alone and that this world is not our home. We love, praise, and adore You, God.

HeliMOMter

2012-08-06T19:54:00.001-07:00

     I don't know if any of you have ever had a pediatrician hint around about a part of your personality, but I have had two separate doctors make "passing comments" about me. Dr. Baby Genius said something along the lines of, "You can't control every movement when you have three kids, huh?" Another Dr., whom I deeply respect in that same practice, said, "I love studying personality traits in parents of twins. You can't micromanage that many children at once; it's impossible."
     Now, call me paranoid, but I seriously doubt that our general conversation just so happened to lead us in that direction during two separate doctor visits. Granted, the craziness that ensues when I roll into the tiny room to wait on the doctor usually has me apologizing to nurses and doctors, and maybe, MAYBE, they felt the need to excuse my lack of control at the moment. I don't know. I do know though, that Princess suffered from my constant desire to control her every movement until I was so pregnant with the twins that I could no longer get close enough to her to hover for fear of knocking her down with my belly. In short, becoming a mommy to the twins cured me of being a helicopter mom...sort of.
     It was easy to be a helimomter with just Princess. She always wanted to play right at my feet, which made it easy for me to instruct her constantly on her every move. She ate when I ate, so I just fed her. She always wanted me there to help her with each task, so I simply did everything for her. I know, I know; it's amazing she's normal (as normal as four year olds get anyway). I'm sure there were moments in her little two/three year old mind when she wondered why mommy never actually let her walk into the store but carried her instead. You may be wondering the same thing. Honestly, it never occurred to me. Why let her walk and risk her running away from me and getting run over when I could just carry her in instead? I know it sounds crazy ( I would insert a "but...." here, but I have no defense and I truthfully still think it's a decent argument.) I eventually had to stop carrying her because I was afraid I would fall and hurt both of us and carrying her weight on top of my own got burdensome. It was then that I taught myself that we could in fact just walk hand in hand into a store without having to be unrealistically afraid of a runaway car injuring only her...Fastforward to the present.
     While I feel that I have gotten much better about being a helimomter. I know that it's my natural tendency. I truly just want to prevent my children from getting hurt, and maybe there is something deep within me that wants to keep them from making mistakes that may cause them pain, frustration, or even embarrassment. However, I'm so glad that God gave me just what I needed to keep that tendency in check, chaos. It's exhausting to micromanage one child, and it really is impossible to do so with three (especially once they are all mobile). It's okay to teach your children to do, or not do, certain things, but we have to understand as mothers that so many lessons learned in life are done so by making mistakes. The little things we learn "the hard way" help make us the kind of people who think about an action before taking it when we are older. While I would love to have the energy to use every moment of my day making sure Princess, Tinker, and Tank all do everything perfectly and safely, I don't think it would be the best way of life for them. They need me, but they need me sane, and I have to let go sometimes of things that aren't really all that important.
     How can one possibly do so? Well, first, you decide what you want to control most that is in essence unimportant. Second, you let it go. Princess's wardrobe is one area that was strangely difficult for me to let go of, not that I can't literally control what she wears, but because I knew that some days she needed that freedom from my constant control. She loves fashion in the way many four year old girls love fashion. She likes dresses, particularly pink ones, her American flag swimsuit, her polka dot rainboots, and she loves her white cowgirl boots, which in her mind match everything. I don't always let her pick her outfit, but 95% of the time, I at least work out a compromise. This is my way of not helimomtering. It sounds silly, I know, but it really is hard for me. It's just as hard as knowing that I can't possibly always keep Tinker from finding something that I'm sure is covered in germs and putting it in her mouth, or keeping Tank from tripping over something when he gets exciting and starts running towards me without any regard to what is in his path. I'm not all the way there, but I'm trying. I wanted to post about this because I think so many times our stress as moms comes from trying to control what isn't even important to control. By all means we should make our children behave, learn respect, do things that are good and holy, but I had to learn that making Princess cry over what she will wear to Walmart, isn't worth the cost.
I'm on a journey, ladies; come with me. Let's be good mothers, not helimomters. Let's stop being a broken record in the ears of our children of "Do this", "Don't do that", and start being the voice of love and support. Here's my prayer for us:
"Dear father, thank You for giving me such a deep love for my children. I know that You have given me the ability to love them and a sincere desire to care for them in the best way I can. Help me, Lord, to focus always on what is important. Help me to let go of the trivial things that I don't need to waste time obsessing over. Help me, Lord to be a great mom, a Godly mom. Help me not lose my mind in the midst of this beautiful chaos. I praise You always."

Groundhog Day and Time's Winged Chariot

2012-07-31T12:17:00.002-07:00

     As a working mom, I try very hard to appreciate every moment with my kids. I'm extremely blessed to work in a job that contracts me for 10 months but spreads out my pay over 12 months. Therefore, I have two months home with my kids in the summer. You would think it would be easy to relish every moment of those two months, right?
     Here's my problem. I'm an antsy person. I don't like being at home all day every day. I like my home, and I like spending time there, but I like being free to go places too. When I had Princess, I didn't change my lifestyle too much in that area. I loaded her up and took her wherever I wanted to go. The twins, however, changed that. Last summer (actually up to October) and this summer I have had to learn how to be happy just being at home with my three kiddos. (Luckily, my husband stops in during breaks in his day to help break up the monotony for me.) It's been a blessing, though. It has made me a better wife, mother, and person in general.
     For the first time ever, I spent several weeks of this summer just getting my house back in order. I have busied myself with homey type things and been pretty content. It's an amazing thing really, because before now, I could only handle being at home (meaning not leaving the house at all) for a couple of days in a row before going stir crazy. Dean never minded it, but I can tell he loves the new me even more than he thought possible. He loves that I'm around for when he has a moment to stop by (he farms our land, so he's always pretty close by), he loves that the things of our family bring me sincere joy, he loves that the kids are around to go out with him when he is doing something that allows for a tag a long. It's great, but there are those days...
     Some days I wake up and feel inexplicably restless. I then do a mental count in my head of how many days it has been since I left the house. It's never been more than a week since we go to church on Sundays, but it is sometimes quite a few days. On those days I feel like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day. At those times, I have begun to feel (subconsciously) that every day is exactly like the day before with no changes, no variations but ones that make things more frustrating, and everything is stuck in repeat. It's not that my everyday routine is a bad one, it's just that after a while, the small irritations become increasingly irritating. It's on those days I call someone up and get out of the house. We may go to lunch, out shopping, running errands, anything to make the day different. These days are usually pretty stressful when you're dragging around twin 13 month olds and their 4 year old sister. Even poor Princess can get stressed from the ordeal just trying to eat in a nice restaurant can become. **As a side note, a lot of people have made the mistake of saying things like, "I take three kids out by myself all the time" to which I respond, "How many are not walking? Only one, huh? That must be nice to only have to carry one. And how many aren't potty trained? Again only one, Hmmm. That does sound manageable. Try packing a diaper bag for two, loading up a four year old, putting two babies in carseats, carrying two babies and your wallet (forget the diaper bag at this point) in the store while having the older one hang on to your pocket, putting the two smallest in the buggy (you know, the part they aren't supposed to be in), and then trying to actually buy something. I'll probably get out more as well when my kids are more mobile. " ** Sorry for getting off subject, but you see where I'm coming from. It's not easy to just get out and go, but it's worth giving up. I have learned how to get through the groundhog days. I just throw in some variation. It is something I do tend to deal with though. Ironically enough, I also deal with feelings that are completely opposite.
     On the days when I'm loving the routine of my life, I have this sense of urgency to appreciate every moment, because it will be over before I know it. I am lucky to get two months of vacation in the summer, but two months passes so much more quickly than I could ever imagine. I'm constantly thinking of the quote from Andrew Marvell that says, But at my back I always hear time's winged chariot hurrying near. It feels like time is flying behind me, rushing me forward. I literally feel like I have to enjoy life as quickly as possible so that I don't miss anything. I think that is why I always stayed so busy before; I was trying to squeeze as much out of summer as I could. It didn't work of course, but rather made summer feel shorter instead. When I was thinking about this post, I almost named it "Groundhog Day and Dorothy's Hour Glass" instead because the image of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz kept popping up in my head. You know the scene when the witch has her in her castle and she turns over the hour glass and says she's going to kill her when it runs out, and Dorothy sits there staring at it frantically, biting her fingernails, and crying? That's kind of how I feel at times too. It's a strange juxtaposition of two completely opposite feelings. I try not to let myself get depressed by the days ticking by, but I try not to feel stuck in the repetition those days offer either. As is normal with me, I feel this to be a spiritual lesson.
     God has taught me that 1. I need to just be still sometimes. That doesn't mean I get to sit in the floor and play with my kids all day. There is always plenty to do. What I do mean by "still" is just being willing to live the simple part of my life. The part where I'm Mommy and Wifey, not Mrs. 2. I need to quit worrying about time passing by so quickly and just be in the moment. You can't look beyond today in dread of it ending and actually enjoy any of it, so just stop and be in the moment, even if it's stressful or hectic. 3. Don't do things to purposely make the time go by faster or make it feel longer. Neither works. In the end, even if every moment is miserable or exhilarating, it will be the past, and we will make of it what we want in our memories. It's been a great summer, probably the best of my life and still I have little nuances, so I wanted to write this for those of you struggling to enjoy your life right now. Here's my prayer for us all:
"God, you are so awesome to give us life. Sometimes we take the joy out of it by stressing over whether we are enjoying it to the fullest. Please forgive us for doing so. Show us how to enjoy life and appreciate it fully. In the good times, we praise You for goodness. In bad times, we praise You for Your perfect will. Thank you for this life. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You."

Looking forward and checking the rearview...

2012-07-11T20:43:00.001-07:00

     I'm a person who always looks to the future, the next thing, the IT factor of my life. I know you already get that about me, but I have to keep it in check spiritually. I just last week attended my 10 year high school reunion. Now, it's a little awkward to talk about this on here because I know that several people who follow this blog, knew the "high school me" as well as the "now me", and honestly, I don't know (and may not want to know) how a lot of people viewed me in high school. Now there were people who knew me well and knew my heart then as well as now, but I would have to say that number is pretty small. I've changed so much in 10 years in some respects, and in other ways I'm exactly the same. I assume most people feel that way from decade to decade. Here's the hard truth...
     I met Dean late in my high school career, so he only knew a little bit of the high school me. He jokes with me that I was a "mean girl" because he thinks of me as being preppy or snobby, a laughable idea now since there is not even a shred of pretense that I am at all sophisticated or "high class". His accusation isn't necessarily true. I wasn't really all that mean all the time, but I could be sometimes. The sad part of that is that some people may have only interacted with me sometimes, and who knows if they saw the nice me, the mean me, or both.... It used to really bother me, that thought. I told a few people off, made a few enemies, acted in a mean way. I also took up for some people, made some friends, tried to show sincerity. My biggest problem then was a spiritual one. I was fighting in myself. I had major issues with body image, self esteem, self worth, you name it. It's hard to be a teenage girl (or boy) in any time period, and the late 90s-early 2000s were no exception. Instead of keeping my focus on God always, my eyes wandered towards the enemy camps. My biggest regret is that I doubt many people would think about me as a high school student and say, "Man, she pointed me to Jesus Christ!" It makes me sad. I was a hypocrite; I still am sometimes. I have my spiritual demons...mostly linked to my mouth, which I fight constantly to control.
     I guess I was hoping that tons of people would show up to the reunion and I could prove that I am not the person that I once was...But as I think about it now, I'm pretty sure none of us are. Literally, it is impossible to think anyone from my graduating class could possibly be the same, and I sincerely thank God for how he has changed me. It is so freeing to know that I don't have to be perfect, pretty, smart, skinny, or anything else that I thought I had to be then. All He wants is someone willing, and it's okay that I'm a little crazy, it just adds character. I've never been one to hold a grudge, so I can't relate to those movies where people go back to their high school reunions to show off for people they used to hate, love, or just look up to. Honestly, that is one of my best traits, and it makes working with teenagers a lot easier for me than for those without this trait. I can have a run in with someone today, but I'm willing to wipe the slate clean tomorrow.
     I'm not one to dwell on the past; it makes me crazy when I do because I tend to only see flaws, faults, and short falling. Maybe that is why I push so hard into the future.
     Ten years ago, I could never have imagined my life now. I was talking with some friends at the reunion, and someone made the comment to a friend, "I can't believe you're a dad!" to which he replied, "Well, it kind of just happened." (This particular friend is actually trying to adopt his son legally whom he has had since birth and who has some serious health issues, so please pray for him!) So many of us could relate on some level to that comment. For many of us, our little blessings (children or other types) came at a surprising time, in surprising circumstances, (ahem) in surprising numbers, and some of us just aren't there yet to see or receive those blessings. We all had master plans for our lives, but I can't imagine anyone's "perfect plan" has been what we imagined. My life is so much better than I had planned for, and I sincerely hope my former classmates can say the same. I hope they are blessed beyond what they had dreamed years ago.
     My glance in the rearview of life has made me evaluate my goals for the future. I constantly ask God, "What is next? Show me where to go from here." I have a great job. I love to teach English. However, my heart is wandering right now. Pray for me sisters and brothers. I feel His hand leading me, but I'm so impatient because I don't know to where I am headed. It's scary to think I'll even hit publish on this one. I will probably have to publish it before proofing too much lest I chicken out from bearing my heart so freely to the world. If I could, I would spend my working time encouraging others, specifically ladies. I have yet to figure out how to make that pay the bills though. I just know one thing, I have to find what it is I can do for Christ that is more than I am doing now.
     The only thing giving me the courage to say this to you is the thought that probably others feel as I do about some aspect of this post. Surely there are other ladies out there who look to the future and wonder what it is that God will do with them next. I love to hear God speak to me. I crave it, yearn for it, need it. I have always needed to be told I am loved by those around me. in retrospect, it seems that the best lessons I learn from God are those that I must wait on in His silence. He knows me well. He knows that to get my attention and to hold me back from going too quickly in a direction without all the preparation I need, He must lead me one step at a time. I'm going to be honest though, I'm weary, I'm tired from the silence, and I need to know that this spiritual journey I'm on is leading somewhere. I'm so blessed. I'm happy in every sense, but I know He has something that I can do for Him, and I want to do it. I just don't know what "IT" is...

Maybe this time, you guys should write the prayer....

A blessed year.

2012-07-09T10:02:00.004-07:00

On June 29th, I woke up with an accomplished feeling. I had survived the first year of my twins' lives. I had this feeling of winning the game Survivor. Don't get me wrong, if it had been Survivor, I'm almost certain every member of my family (immediate and extended) would have voted me off the island at some point. However, since that was not an option, I made it!! Dean made it! Princess made it! Tank and Tinker made it, too!! We all survived the chaos for a whole year. It was rough year in some ways. It's hard to change the dynamic of your family by adding to it, and adding more than one at a time, shew! I had the blissful "we made it" thought, but then I was humbled by another thought. We hadn't just survived, we manged to eventually thrive! Tears come to my eyes at this thought, because all I managed to pray for was survival for those first few months. Then, I started praying like a survivor for us to thrive. I didn't just want us to make it through the day anymore, I wanted us to enjoy it. I wanted us to have time to look at one another and really see the person we loved in front of us. You know what? We did. By the grace of God, the five of us, especially Dean and I, learned how to truly enjoy our new lives. We may wipe enough booties to make us poop experts sometimes, but we laugh, rejoice, and have fun. It has truly been a blessed year, and there is so much I want to say about it that I'm not sure how this post will turn out.

   There are so many things I will no longer take for granted such as: sleeping in the dark (rather than with a lamp on), sleeping at all, going out to eat easily, going out to eat for less that $30 ( I can't imagine what it will cost us in ten years!), "running" out to the store without finding someone to watch my kids or loading three kids in the car, buying less than 4 gallons of milk a week, silence, time to talk to my husband without interruptions, expendable income, exercising alone, feeding only myself at meal time. There are surely more, but nap time is going to be over soon, so I must press on. These things may seem bazaar to you, but they are things I have learned to cherish.
     One thing that snuck up on me when the twins were about 6-7 months was the fact that our finances were much tighter. I knew, of course, that having a baby is expensive so having two would be even more expensive, but I was still in survivor mode for so long that it kind of hit me all at once that things weren't as easy financially. We keep an account for the big things (mortgages, insurance, etc) that I don't carry with me and one for groceries and conveniences (cell phone bills, tv satellite, etc.) One is used as a way to save up for the big things that tend to be due semi annually or quarterly. Why you may ask? I spend too much money and that keeps me from doing so too badly. (I say this with shame.) We don't live lavishly, but I like going out to eat and I can shop just about anywhere (walmart, thrift store, dollar store, you name the store and they've got something I need.) Anyway, when I had the twins, we took on tons of doctor bills and expenses that come with children, but I never changed my lifestyle to accommodate these new expenses. So, I have now had to begin being a more proactive spender. We still go out to eat, I just make sure I know how much money is in the bank so that I'm not transferring money later to buy milk. It has been good for me to be honest, and I don't think I'll ever go back to swiping a debit card without thinking about the fact that I need to make sure there is enough money in the account to get me through the month. Luckily, there was always extra in the other account, but it could have been bad. I guess it's a good thing Dean tends to be....frugal. :)
   I'm so humbled by the changes Dean and I have made. To be honest, with Princess, I didn't allow Dean to be the best father he was capable of being for a long time. I repent to God for that so much. I was so controlling and obsessed with her that I didn't let anyone really enjoy her like they should have, especially Dean since we often have shared time with our kids during the working months of the year. With the twins, I had to learn to let go. Dean is more natural with our children than I am, and since the birth of Princess that has been true. I think back now that I have learned a few things, and I understand now why he thought I was so crazy when Princess was born. (He didn't necessarily say it that way, but a woman knows...) I look at him now with such admiration. What other man would be able to handle a three year old and two newborn babies by himself while I slept, went to the store, or just escaped for a while? He's amazing; he's more amazing than I give him credit for most of the time.

I lay in bed the other night thinking about how far we've come. A year ago, we went to bed with 8 bottles pre-filled with water and a container of formula. We would sleep with a lamp on, two bassinets beside us, and our bottle prep station set up and waiting. I don't know how much powdered formula I have spilled in the bed, but I can guarantee that if you want to torture someone, spread a little bit of that stuff on their sheets. I have been so exhausted that I simply couldn't go any further, and my cup has been so full it overflowed with blessings and love. I have been deep in the valley and high on the mountain, sometimes in the same day. Children are amazing that way. They make us feel emotions so fully, and they remind us of our relationship with God.
Here is how I have changed. I went from being a woman who filled every summer day with something to do to a woman who can stay busy all day with no plans made. I went from being a woman who knew God's grace to one who feels it every moment. I went from being a woman who grocery shopped on the fly, to one who makes a list and sticks to it. I went from being a woman who liked to spend money to being a woman who appreciates value. I went from being a woman who was busy to being a woman who understands the importance of appreciating the childhood years of her children. I went from being a woman who could clean her house in two hours to being a woman who couldn't clean it in a whole day, and that's okay. I've become more of a homemaker, and you know what? I don't hate it. I'm an obsessive personality who needs to be planning, thinking, and doing. So, I've simply had to change my focus from doing as much as possible to running a tighter ship at home. I like making out a menu, and then a shopping list from the menu, and keeping us on a grocery budget. (I'm still new at this part.) I like knowing what to cook on any certain day (especially since I am the one deciding ahead of time). These things bring order to my chaos. To be completely honest, I think I understand why life is so chaotic anyway. It makes us turn to God and focus on the important things. I don't know a single person (other than a few elderly ladies) who doesn't live a chaotic life. Even those who have fewer responsibilities in life tend to describe it as chaotic. Most of this we bring upon ourselves, of course. You know what is humbling? Those few elderly ladies I know who do not live chaotic lives would love to have that excitement back. What we complain about, they long for.

If nothing else came from the name of this blog, it has helped me so much. I feel that I have truly learned to love the chaos. I now know that loving my chaos doesn't mean I have to be thrilled during every moment of it; rather, it means that I can appreciate each moment as one that is effecting my life. Tinker Belle pulled off her diaper the other day after her nap, which let the poop she had just deposited in it escape. Did I love going in to find her completely naked and poop and pee everywhere? Not necessarily; but you should have seen the sly little smile on her face, and honestly, we couldn't do anything but laugh. (Dean took care of the mess by the way.) Every moment isn't glamorous, but I'm learning that it's okay. Sometimes it's the late night snuggle with a teething baby, or the smile Princess gives me when I bought her favorite fruit at the store that reminds me what life is about, our legacy. If my children are my legacy, and my goal is to teach them to love Jesus and share His gospel, then my life gets a lot simpler, even in the midst of the chaos. Princess rode in the buggy while I shopped last night and sang her own version of a praise song in the store. She raised her little arm in the air and touched her heart with the other hand truly praising God to the extent she knows how. I was so touched that I could have cried, and when I realized she was copying what I do, I almost lost it. That is what it is all about, praising God, not just through singing, but with our lives. Chaos keeps me close to God. It makes me depend on Him fully. It makes me focus, not just float through life. It has been the biggest blessing in my life to have my three children, that which I expected, and that which I did not expect.
Thank you, my sisters, for living this year with me on the blog. At one point I thought that maybe I would stop writing the blog when the twins turned one, but I realize now that my chaos is far from over. I don't know how much longer I will feel led to write, but maybe we'll all be little old ladies on here sharing stories about our grandchildren getting married and such. All I know is that I still need you all, and if you're willing, I'm going to keep on.

Here's my prayer for this post:

"Dear Father, thank You so much for my first year as a mother of three. Thank You for Dean, a man strong enough to handle a woman like me. Thank You for Princess, my big girl, my helper. Thank You for my precious babies. Thank You for letting me watch them this year and all of the milestones that first year holds. A year ago today, I couldn't imagine what they would look like at a year old, I couldn't imagine them crawling and walking, but I am so blessed to see these things come to pass. Thank You for motherhood and friends to share it with. Thank You for my sisters who read this blog and support me through triumphs and heartbreak, God, I need them so much in my life. I pray that You will bless them with Holy chaos, and that they will draw to You in it and become stronger Christians and women because of it. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You. Amen"

Family Roots and the Virtuous Woman

2012-06-29T21:34:00.000-07:00

I have this dilemma when people ask me where I’m from. I honestly don’t know what to tell them. This is not because I feel that I’m from nowhere, but because I feel I’m from two different places. I have lived in the Appy Mountains so long, that people in the Swamps of Georgia would probably consider me as “being from” Virginia. However, “holler rules” say that if you weren’t born here, you’re not “from here”. It may sound harsh, but I kind of like the tightness of the groups. I’m accepted by both, mostly. I have some little mountain babies so that helps with the locals; however, my family always indoctrinates them with ideas of the “south” (aka deep south, dirty south, whichever you prefer) so that they know their southern(er) roots. This lets me know that at least they think of me as being from there, or at least from them. I don’t feel this to be a disadvantage in my life. I love having two sets of roots, it makes me versatile (as long as I stay south of the Mason Dixon line anyway). There is one thing that makes me very homesick for my birthplace, my family. I miss my cousins, my aunts and uncles, fresh peaches, my mom’s pecan orchard with gorgeous old trees , and I miss my Nanny. I so wish that I could be close to them sometimes, especially my Nanny.

I don’t know about you, but there’s something about the women in my family, the matriarchs specifically, that just makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Where I come from, genetically speaking, the women are the heart of the family, the men are the head, and God is the soul. Maybe you don’t like that kind of traditionalism, but I love it. I find it comforting, natural, and (most importantly) biblical. These are things that are important to me in a family unit.

Going to visit my Nanny, my only living grandparent, reminds me over again that the woman’s place in a family is so important. She is in so many ways the hub of our family. Living so far away from my relatives makes it pretty hard to be especially close to them, but with most of my family, there’s this awesome way that we can just pick up on conversation as if we spoke yesterday, not 6 months ago. There’s a connectedness I feel to them, which is something we all need in life. If you don’t know this already, the Aldridge family is a pretty large one. My Nanny has nine children, who all have between 2-4 children, who are in turn growing up and having children of their own (and a few of them are old enough to do the same). There are more than 90 of us. I was going to do the math, but it gets overwhelming, and honestly, I lose track even when writing it down. At last count, two years ago, there were exactly 90, and I know of at least 5 that wouldn’t have been in that count, maybe more (I couldn’t say for sure). It must be hard to be the hub of that many people. She holds so much responsibility; you see, no matter how close we are to each other or even how often we visit Nanny, she’s just innately special to all of us. She’s the warm and fuzzy feeling we get when we think of the word “family”.

In my mind, Nanny is beautiful, smart, and basically the perfect wife and mother. Am I looking through some sort of smoky lens and perfecting her? I don’t know, but I don’t care. She’s special. I live in fear of her old age and what it is doing to her (ie making her forgetful), and I live in fear of the day she may leave us. I know everyone else feels that way too, and I’ve talked with some of my cousins about it, but it made us feel worse, so we dropped the subject. In all of this, I’m so very much like a child. I want to cry when I think of her forgetting things, because I want my Nanny to stay just how I imagine her, I want her to be around to see my kids grow up, I want to scoop her up and move her in with me so I can put her in a plastic bubble where she can’t fall and get hurt. Being so far away probably feeds this fantasy since I do imagine her much more often than I actually see her. In other ways, it makes me treat her almost like a child, trying to do things for her without her noticing when I’m around or practically forcing her to go out to dinner and pick the place. I am such a practical person in so many respects, but going to see Nanny just makes me a little nostalgic (or maybe a lot).

I used to think of the Proverbs 31 woman as my bitter enemy. I mean, who can live up to that kind of pressure? You have to do ALL of that to be considered a virtuous woman for crying out loud?? Then, I went to a conference break out session about being a good hostess. The speaker pointed out that the Proverbs 31 woman did all of these things throughout her lifetime, not all at once. It became clear to me then that being the virtuous woman was a journey, not a daily goal. Why it didn’t occur to me (and many other women) that this woman couldn’t have been a stay at home mom AND a working mom all at the same time, I’ll never know. It is probably because we get caught up in the hugeness of that list that we don’t think about the amount of time it would take to become the master of so many traits. I guess that’s why I idolize my Nanny; I see her towards the end of that journey, and I want to be that. However, my yearning for such will make me focus on the end of the journey, not the blessing of travelling it.

I feel this way about my mother too. I have seen her on her virtuous journey much more than I did my Nanny, but it doesn’t make it any less impressive. I then compare my place on the virtuous journey timeline to my mother’s and then my Nanny’s, and I am in awe of the beauty of the female role in a God centered family. The heart, the place where emotions are, the place where comfort and acceptance are found, the place where hurt goes away, the place where Daddy can be held up(even though he’s big and strong). Isn’t womanhood a wonderful gift?

There are times when I think washing one more dish or changing one more poopy diaper is going to make me scream, but what a privilege to be the heart of my little family. I can already see in the eyes of my children and nephews that my mom “Nana” is to them what Nanny is to me, the Virtuous woman.

On the long ride home from visiting my family in southern Georgia, I was thinking of how hard it is to leave once I get down there. In the movie, Sweet Home Alabama, Reece Witherspoon’s character says, “My life in New York works… But then I come down here... and this fits too”. I can relate to that idea completely. I know my visits only consist of hanging around my Nanny’s house and not venturing out into the real world she lives in, but I really do feel connected to that place. I wonder more and more if I would have that feeling if she wasn’t there. I don’t know, but I don’t ever want to find out. Then I realized that an idea that probably fits me better is found in To Kill A Mockingbird. Scout is talking to Dill about running away and says, “I wonder why Boo Radley never ran away” to which he answers, “Maybe he doesn’t have anywhere to run to.” That’s the catcher for me. That is why I think of Georgia in such a sentimental way. I always have somewhere to run away to, somewhere where the world I’ve built can’t find me, somewhere where people love me just because I was born, somewhere where I can cry and complain, somewhere where they’ll give me sweet tea and hug me when we greet and when we part, and somewhere where I don’t have to have my hair perfect (which is good because that is an impossible task in that humidity). Georgia is where I can run away to, or maybe it’s Nanny’s house. My child thinks those two ideas are the same, as do my nephews. Georgia=Nanny’s and Nanny’s=Georgia. Maybe they are right. I know that no matter what I’d go visit my other relatives, but Nanny is part of my heart, the part that keeps me walking down that virtuous woman path. My biscuits will probably always taste like crap, and my dumplings are microscopically thicker than Nanny’s, which ruins the whole batch, and when it comes to stains, my child bypasses me to get my mother’s help, and she is always going to be better at throwing a get together than me, but I’m sure in the future, I’ll have traits that my kids and grandkids want too. Nanny’s better at me than basically everything, as is my mother (which Princess tends to point out), but one day, I’ll have to be the heart of a downline of descendants myself, and what a blessing.

There’s a saying out there that you “can’t have roots and wings”, but I don’t look at it that way. I don’t feel like a little bird that has been groomed to fly away. Instead, I feel more like a tree that began as a seed that fell into the ground. As I get older, my roots grow even deeper while my branches reach higher and form their own forks. I can be grounded in the background of the virtuous women before me, which helps me as I become the heart of a family myself. Maybe one day, I’ll be home to many people. I hope my example points them to Christ as those ladies who came before me have for their children and grandchildren.

Here’s my prayer to all of us ladies who are or will become the heart of a family one day:

“Dear Father, thank You so much for giving me the responsibility of being the heart of this family. Help me to always remember that You are the most important member. Help me to remember how important the role of the men who lead the family is as well. God, walk with me down this virtuous woman path, please help me to be strong in my journey. I want to give You the glory for my family’s success, and I want to ask forgiveness where I’ve failed You in my efforts. Be with my sisters who are struggling with their place in the family unit. I lift them to You, God, because being the heart is so wonderful, but God it can be so hard. I lift up those ladies who don’t have the great examples that I do. Please show them what a virtuous woman should be. We praise you for the good and bad, God, and we acknowledge that Your will is perfect. We love You, we love You, we love You. Amen.”

For your viewing pleasure, I've added some pictures from our trip...

Twin A- Tinker Belle to the rescue..

2012-06-20T13:59:00.001-07:00

     I often wonder if my twins have some sort of special connection. It seems some times that they have a very special bond, but at other times they seem to feel the other twin a nuisance. It worries me more than it should, but I gained a little perspective the other night. Tank suffers from pretty bad allergies, and had been having some trouble with them a few weeks ago. We were treating him as the doctors had directed, but it didn't seem to help much. He was grumpy at bedtime, but he went to sleep pretty easily.
   We separated the twins a while back in hopes that they would no longer wake each other in the night and maybe start sleeping a little better. It sort of worked. Therefore, the girls are in a room together, and Tank is on his own.
   At about 5 am, Tinker Belle began going absolutely crazy. She was screaming in a way that was very different and very alarming. I jumped up from the bed, and said something to Dean to wake him up. As I entered the hallway, I heard Tank struggling to breathe, so I darted off to the side as Dean continued into the girls' room. I picked him up, and began the routine for treating nighttime croup. Steamy shower, walk outside, head over boiling pot, breathing treatment, repeat. It sounds crazy, but it works. He learned to be pros at it with Princess. Not five minutes into the routine, Dean comes and begins helping me. I asked him what had been wrong with Tinker Belle. He said nothing. When he went in her room, she was crying, but when I went down the hall with Tank, she stopped. He gave her sippy cup to her and came to help me.
   I could have cried. I realized that she could hear her brother and knew something was wrong. When help didn't arrive, she called out for it because he couldn't. As I'm writing, tears are streaming down my face at this amazing little show of heroism. I went back in to the girls' room while Dean walked Tank around outside, and looked in on her, sucking away at her little cup with her eyes wide open. I know it sounds crazy, but she looked worried. I rubbed her little peach fuzz head and assured her that Bubby was just fine. She was quiet when I left the room, but she didn't sleep much more that night.
     I guess this proves to me that my babies do in fact have a strong bond, and even though they may fight over every single toy in the house, they love each other deeply. Another thing it taught me is that even though she is a tiny little thing, representing the 1th percentile, she can still be a hero, she can still be strong, and she can still look out for others. She isn't weak, she isn't at a disadvantage (well, maybe when they fist fight), and she isn't too little to help. She is "fearfully and wonderfully made" for a special and important purpose.
     I started thinking about this as a spiritual lesson. Tinker knew her brother needed help, so she cried out for help for him when he couldn't. She interceded so to speak. How often do we see a brother or sister in Christ who is in need of help and either can't/or won't call out for help? How often to we cry out to our Father for them? The thought breaks my heart. My prayer for us today, is that we will recognize when others around us are in need of help, and we will be willing to cry out in the darkness of the night for help to come to them, even if they are too weak, stubborn, or lost to cry out on their own.

Ever since she was tiny, Dean and I would hold Tinker up like she was flying and say, "Tinker Bellllllllle, to the rescue!" She always loved it, and she would smile ear to ear when we did it. I guess now she has earned her little hero award.

Ringmaster Part II

2012-05-30T06:54:00.000-07:00

I know I promised it wouldn't be very long before I posted again, but you know how life gets out of control sometimes. Sissy's wedding was wonderful, and tiring. I think I learned now more than ever that she, Adod, and I are all three just Greeks in training. (I don't know if I've mentioned this, but Sissy and I refer to our mom's as "the Greeks", which we got from the moms and aunts off of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding". We loved those bossy loud ladies so much without knowing why until one day we got lost in a nearby city with our mothers in the backseat. It all became very clear.) In truth, we are more like the Greeks than we realize, and we are ever getting closer to being the same. We are all just lively, energetic, opinionated women. No wonder there were almost a few fist fights and maybe a couple of tantrums during the weekend. It was wonderful.
Sissy was one of the most beautiful brides I have ever seen, and I 'm not exaggerating. There was a beauty radiating from her that is God given. Things fell together perfectly thanks in large part to Godmother (her mommy). Lots of people helped out; so many family and friends were there from out of town as well as those who live here, so there was always a lot going on. Sissy held it together pretty well. There were very few times that we saw a crack in her composure, and even then, probably only those of us who know her best would have seen it. She never speaks harshly to people, and there were a few times she got a little snippy and demanding. I think any bride has that right. If ever there were a stressful week in the life of a woman, that is one. Anyway, she was absolutely gorgeous, the ceremony was perfect, and Taylor will be a wonderful husband to her. He was one of the most precious grooms I have ever seen during a ceremony, and it is obvious that he is deeply in love.

As for Princess, she was a beautiful little flower girl. She was already tired by the time pictures started and the day broke heat records, so that made things a little difficult in the life of a four year old. She was not the easiest she had ever been to deal with, but she was the most beautiful cowboy boot clad flower girl I had ever laid eyes on. It's amazing to me how as a parent we can look at our child one day and love them even more deeply. She did her job well coming down the aisle, but couldn't last on stage through the 45 minute ceremony. She went and sat with my Godparents aka Memaw and Pepaw. How she almost fell asleep in that heat is amazing to me. She had fun at the reception, of course, and only requested ice cream as her prize for doing well. (Yes, at one point I was willing to bribe her.)

Dean, my personal hero once again, dealt with our real life while I was in a wedding wonderland last week. He shuffled his two work schedules around quite a bit. He kept them, dressed them, and kept them quiet at the wedding. He and his dad (his parents also attended, because they know the family, and well, it's a small town and we're all freakishly close) took the twins out of the covered outdoor area and let them play in the grass. My mom went to my house for a few hours earlier in the day to help him out some, so that he wouldn't be too far behind on the farm. It was a wild few days. Just to give you a feel for it, here's our schedule for part of that week:
Wednesday night--Dean and I held our weekly small group and then went to my Godmother's to see Adod and her husband before the chaos hit.
Thursday - I worked all day, Dean worked half a day and then left due to us not having a sitter, I went home to relieve Dean so he could get some work done, an hour later, a different sitter came, I left to go to a bridesmaid's dinner with Sissy, Dean came in about 3 hours later to relieve the sitter, I was with Sissy and the other girls until about 1 am, while Dean got everyone fed and in bed.
Friday-- Dean went to work, I got up at 6:30 (the kids must have forgotten I was up late), cleaned the house, took all three children on an hour long jewelry delivery run, then I went back to town and met my parents for breakfast, dropped Tinker Belle off with my mother in law, took Princess and Tank with me to a PreK evaluation for Princess (30 minutes in the opposite direction), came back from there, took those two with me to the store to pick up some necessities (ie toilet paper), picked up Tinker Belle, a plant hanger, and some jars that were borrowed from a neighbor for the wedding, and headed over to Godmother's where I'm not even sure what help I was other than offering my cute babies to snuggle my godmother who was bearing the heaviest burden of stress at that point. I then went back home, put the twins down for a nap, got myself ready (and Princess) for the rehearsal, was rescued by AThack from way back who babysat for me because Dean had to be part of the graduation for his high school students and couldn't go with me and wrestle the kiddos. My mom left the rehearsal, went back to my house and picked up the twins when it was over and then took them to the rehearsal dinner for me. After the dinner was over, I took them all home, put them to bed and as soon as Dean got home, we collapsed in bed.
Saturday-- I got up at our regular time (6:45), made breakfast, straightened up, and Adod and Sissy picked me up at 9 am. Dean stayed with all three kids for a few hours, mom came and let him finish up some farm work, then he went back and took care of them and got them ready for the wedding. Sissy, Adod, and I were all at the beauty shop for the next several hours, then we picked up Princess and went to Godmother's to get our make up done and get ready, then we went to have pictures done at the wedding site, then went back to Godmother's for a freshen up moment, then went back for the actual wedding, then did a few more pictures, then off to the reception. After the reception, Dean and I were together once again and took our little brood home to roost. We sat up for a while with Princess, and then called it a night.

Then we were up again at 6:45 the next morning getting ready for church.

It's amazing how busy life can be. These events were all wonderful, but man was I exhausted when it was over, and I'm sure there were a ton of other people who felt the same way. Before I had children, a weekend like that would have been supplemented with sleeping late and naps and such, but those are just things of the past now. It's a blessing, still, because Bubby (Tank) loves his early morning snuggles with mommy, and Tinker Belle is so happy when she first wakes up that you can't be mad at her for waking you early with her little "uh ohhs" that she sings from her crib. This week is another busy one. Babysitting issues continue, Princess has a dance recital coming up which requires more practices than I personally feel necessary for a four year old, and Premier is having a busy week in my life. Those are all on top of our regular schedule. But you know what? I'm looking straight in the face of summer and thanking God that I have a job that allows me so much time with my children. I'm reminded why I chose a job that doesn't pay all that much or receive a whole lot of recognition these last weeks when students come by to give me a card or a hand made gift (which doesn't happen too often in a high school), and I know that I'll be on baby time this time next week. Life is busy, but it is still blessed. I might have been crying yesterday about what I'm going to do for a sitter the rest of the week (which I still haven't figured out completely right now), but I know I'm lucky for the situation I have. Sometimes we have to remind ourselves of the truth rather than worrying with the little things.

Here's my prayer to all you other busy mamas and women:
"Thank You, God, for a full life. Thank You for people around me who are in exciting stages of their lives. Thank You for the blessing of children to complicate my schedule. God, I know there are those out there who would love to have so many people around them and so many things to do, and I praise You even when it seems like too much. Thank You for my parents, in laws, and friends who love me and my children enough to disrupt their own lives to help me accomplish my duties and goals. Thank You for a husband who is a full time father, Thank You for friends like AThack who will give up a Friday evening to watch my babies, thank You for my mom who will put off her own duties to help my husband with our children, thank You for parents-in-law who will work their schedules around ours when we need them to, thank You for my Godsisters who make me feel like a true sister. God, I thank You for so many things, and I am humbled because I know I don't deserve them. Thank You for stress, for without it, my life would be empty. I love and praise you."

Just call me Ringmaster...(part 1)

2012-05-22T10:18:00.002-07:00

May is always an especially busy time for my family. Since Dean and I are both teachers (high school), there are additional events we attend (i.e. 2 proms, 2 graduations, etc.). In addition, we are both teachers of subjects that have state tests. Therefore, we stay pretty stressed. On top of that, Dean's work on the farm doubles, and hay season hits then too, so he needs to work longer hours to get hay "up" (cut, fluffed, racked, and bailed) as quickly as he can. It stinks; not the hay part alone, the combination of everything. This year has been a particular struggle since I have started my Premier business, AND...... SISSY'S GETTING MARRIED (WOOHOO)!!!! Just this morning, I equated organizing my family for the next two weeks to being the conductor of a symphony, but honestly, I think it's more like being the ringmaster of a three ring circus. I can handle the ordinary struggles listed above, sort of, but to add chaos to chaos, the twins have begun to add their own craziness to our "down time", and Princess isn't helping much either.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, in this ring.....

Bubba, aka Tank, is wanting very badly to walk. He's not there yet, but what he lacks in walking ability, he makes up for with his climbing skills. HE CLIMBS EVERYTHING!!!!!!! Therefore, I have dubbed him my high wire act. He is fearless. Anything he can get a leg up on, he can climb. He may fall, but he can climb it. This is a new problem for me. Princess didn't climb. Granted, every moment of my life was devoted to making sure she didn't get hurt, so maybe it was more me than her. At this point in my life, it is impossible to watch every child every second, and trust me, he's fast. Therefore, he has thus far conquered the Dora table, kitchen chairs, the fireplace ledge, the walker (he didn't make it in the the correct manner), and I'm honestly not sure what else. He may also be an alligator wrestler, since he tends to beat up his sisters without even knowing it. He's unusually strong for his age, which he proves by laying back and flinging his chunky little bull legs together when throwing a fit. He could take down any ol' gator he wanted. In this circus, he'll play both roles.

AND IN THIS RING.....

Tinker Belle is my contortionist. Just you try to get her in her car seat when she doesn't want to be. She somehow bows herself out so that you loosen the straps to get her in, then she shrinks herself down and can pull her arms through, so you have to tighten it right back up. (I always win this fight, but she sure is clever.) She can squeeze into tight, tiny places. I know because she usually can't get back out. How she gets between the couch and the wall is beyond me. You'd think that wherever her shoulders could fit, she could get back out of, but no. She also will weave herself through a variety of larger play toys, and then get stuck. She may also be the escape artist. I have yet to find a high chair that can contain her. She is so tiny, that we have the straps as tight as they can go, but if she can get one little foot up and under her, she's as good as out. She hasn't fallen out yet, but before I could get Princess's dinner plate fixed, she was standing up, looking proud. I feel like these traits will serve her well in our little family circus.

AND FINALLY....

Princess will more than likely become the owner of the entire circus since she can manipulate better than most adults, but for right now, she's my lion tamer. She spends a great deal of time trying to train the twins to do what she wants of them. If she really wants them to be in another room, she'll ~~carry~~ drag them there. We scold her constantly, but I think she does it without thinking. She will try to take their hands or grab them from behind around their chest (just under the armpit) and let them walk, but Tinker Belle isn't all that concerned with walking and usually just lifts up her legs and smiles as Princess carries her through the house. She's naturally bossy, so I think these are the best jobs for her.

Dean and I are usually the dual Ringmasters, or maybe we're the clowns. I'm not really sure. Together, we are all a freak show. Dean and I try our best to keep everyone organized, happy, and healthy. That alone is a big job. Throw in life, and it's almost impossible. I've actually been gone for a while due to a sickness that swept through the children in our house robbing us all of sleep. Although I wasn't sure at times, we made it. The circus survived one show and has moved on to another. Let's see what the next crowd thinks.

~Stay tuned for more about farming, jewelry, and Sissy's wedding. I promise it'll be posted soon.~

Here's my prayer for all you other ringmasters out there:

"God, today what I want is to not only survive, but to thrive. I want joy to be the tone of my family. I want to be a good mother and wife. I want to feel fulfilled by You. I want to feel peace even when the storm is raging. Help me to be organized. Help my children to be happy. Help us to love You better. Help me to ENJOY this life You've blessed me with. Amen."

Peace--and Green eggs and Ham

2012-05-07T16:55:00.000-07:00

I'll admit upfront that I shamelessly stole this idea from my good friend SFields. She is such a talented writer (you can read her blog by clicking on it on the side of this page--ethanfgodschild), and recently she posted about unfairness to the rhyme of "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie". It was beautiful and moving. I was sitting at the table today worrying over the fact that Princess (4) doesn't eat anything while sharing my supper with the twins (10 months) who had already eaten their own dinner but decided they wanted mine too. They've been into EVERYTHING lately, doing things like pulling everything out of a cabinet, climbing on our Dora table, you name it. Anyway, I was wallowing in my reoccurring self pity of "wanting peace". At the same time, I was lamenting the fact that my four year old turned her nose up at the healthy dinner I worked hard (amidst screaming babies) to fix her. Then, it hit me. I all too often turn my nose up at the peace God offers, even though I know it is good for me. I was reminded of the Dr. Seuss rhyme "Green Eggs and Ham". So, while I'm definitely no poet and I lost the flow here and there, here's the Rea version of "Green Eggs and Ham" rightly named "Peace" since that is what God graciously offers me even when I constantly refuse it. Now is a good time to mention that my nickname is pronounced "Ray" though spelled differently, since it would mess up the rhyme if you pronounce it otherwise.

"PEACE"

Good morning my dear little Rea,

I’ve brought some peace for you today

Oh no, dear Lord, I’ll be just fine.

I’m much too busy racing time.

For I’m late you see, to teach my pupils,

But maybe later after I pay the bills.

...

Good lunchtime to my precious Rea,

I still have peace for you today.

Oh no, dear Lord, I’m in a rush.

It’s so loud here; I need some hush.

So instead of taking peace from You,

I think I’ll whine to a friend or two.

...

Good afternoon my sweet girl Rea,

I’ve kept some peace for you today.

So sorry Lord, but I’m feeling hazy,

And it’s time for me to go see my babies.

They’ve missed me, You see, while I’ve be gone,

But maybe I’ll try some tonight at home.

...

Good dinner to my little girl Rea,

There’s still some time for peace today.

Oh, I could not try it now dear God!

There are dishes waiting to be washed,

And then there’s laundry in a pile,

And those bills I mentioned have waited erewhile,

But before that, three baths and then my own,

And my favorite TV show comes on,

And then of course to you I’ll pray

(I’m already thinking of Holy things to say.)

You see my Savior, there’s just too much

I’d love some peace, but my time’s a crunch,

And while I’m at it, I’ll need to have read,

And cleaned the toilet before going to bed,

And then I’ll lay down my weary head,

And I’ll call to you and ask for…..peace.

...

Good night to you my princess Rea,

I hope you’ll take this peace I’ve saved.

OKAY, OKAY, I’ll try it out,

But if it doesn’t work, I’m sure to pout.

What do you think my sweet child Rea,

Do you like the peace I gave?

Oh, yes Dear Lord! I love it dear!

I did not know you were so near

Following me from place to place

Offering peace in my crazy race.

It seems strange now, those things stressing me

Are nothing at all, yet they made me scream.

I never want to lose this peace,

For my hurting soul has begun to ease.

Thank You, God, forgive me I pray

For avoiding the peace You offer each day.

Now don’t you see my silly Rea,

I’ll give you peace brand new each day.

Just trust me with those little things,

And see what strength my true peace brings.

Hold tight to it and I’ll see you through

And that peace I give will exude from you

And you’ll show it to the world around

And they’ll ask about this peace you’ve found.

Then, my dear, you lead them to me,

And I’ll give them peace that sets them free.

And one day in heaven you’ll all be found

With peace untold all around

Then, my dear, My plan you’ll see,

Just take this peace that sets you free.