In that Bible club at church.

It was the first time I’ve had the guts to do something such as a Bible club since things fell apart a few years ago and my view of the world and church was shaken, remolded, renewed.

I was proud of myself, Little Man, for deciding to not only let you be a part of this, but for agreeing to teach your tiny preschooler class. It was a huge step for me, and we were going to make it count.

I had it, planted firmly in my mind, how this night would turn out.

I thought back, to when you were a tiny baby, and those times I had imagined you, taller and talking, old enough to participate in the Bible clubs of our churches.

Back then, several years ago, during that era in which innocence reigned, I knew you would be the good kid, the “churched” kid, the one who knew all his verses, wore his pressed uniform, and sat quietly, obediently, listening to the story. I imagined you with your hair neatly combed and swept to the side on a Wednesday night, face clean and Bible in hand. I didn’t question it, because that’s just the way we did things…

…back then.

Tonight we went to Bible club, Little Man. You were so excited. You’ve been asking for days if this was the day.

We barely made it out the door on time. Your brother was crying from a late nap and a hurried supper. I sighed. My heart was rushed.

We walked in the glass doors, a bag of notebooks and colorful papers slung behind my shoulder, and you promptly announced that you had forgotten your Bible. I sighed. I had forgotten. Where was my brain?

We walked up the stairs to the tiny classroom and I caught a glimpse of your milk mustache. I sighed. I hadn’t even wiped your face.

You found a seat with the other little people and we slowly started the first night of your much anticipated Bible class. I fumbled my way through the lesson I had thought I was prepared for, and searched for papers I hadn’t realized I would need. I sighed. I didn’t have it all together.

You were antsy. You wiggled. You got out of your seat. You talked too soon. You were irritated with your brother and made angry faces. I sighed. You weren’t making this easy.

We played games on a colorful square and you weren’t sure how to play. You wanted to do everything right away and didn’t stop to listen for directions. I sighed. You were causing a scene.

Where was that boy I’d imagined? The one who would do everything just right and would look the part?

We went home.

Me? Defeated.

You? Thrilled.

I put you to bed and was cross, frustrated and mourning the loss of my expectations.

I knelt beside your bed and you wrapped your little arms around my neck in the dim light.

“Mama?” you whispered, your lips close to my ear. “That was so much fun. Thanks for teaching me that Jesus loves me more than anything tonight.”

And then

I cried.



Surrender. Of my ideals, expectations and my ingrained need for perfection.

Love. Of Jesus, of the precious people on this earth, including my own family and even people who have hurt me.

God has me camped out on those two these days.

It is hard. And it is good.

The biggest one?

The first day of preschool.

Our oldest boy headed off, last Tuesday, to the first of his two mornings each week of preschool. He was beyond excited. A teacher. Friends. A playground. Crafts.

He donned his new backpack (“my ECO-pack, Mama!“) and literally skipped out the door.

His first two days were perfect, according to both Troy and his sweet teacher and he asks, each morning, how many more days until he gets to go back to school.

No, I didn’t cry when I left him in his classroom.

But I came pretty close to it. Ahem.

So, along with school comes… lunches.

In preparation for school starting, I did a bit of Etsy browsing, looking for handmade lunch sacks that were both cute and easy to clean.

I was thrilled to find Moja Creations and their simply adorable lunch and snack bags!

These bags are very eco-friendly–not only are they reusable and thus reduce waste, but they’re completely free of lead, BPA, OR phthalates.

Moja Creations has agreed to give away not just one, but TWO of their snack bags to one happy commenter here! The winner will choose any combination of the snack size, small size, or sandwich wrap.

To bring home two reusable cloth snack bags for you and your little people, just leave a comment on this post, telling me what you usually eat for lunch.

I usually have a chicken salad these days. Or leftovers of some sort.

If I eat lunch, that is.

{I try! I really do!}

For extra entries:

• Tweet it, saying: I’d like to win two reusable cloth snack bags from Moja Creations and @heartandhome! http://bit.ly/9loBS5
• Facebook it
• Blog it
• Heart Moja Creations on Etsy
• Like Moja Creations on Facebook

Please leave a separate comment for each entry, otherwise additional entries will not be counted.

I adore these bags, both for lunch, and for just tossing in some raisins and banana chips, apple slices or carrot sticks when we’re on the go!

Read my giveaway philosophy here.

So. I haven’t been online much lately. Haven’t been tweeting. Haven’t been posting. And certainly haven’t been writing anything much worth reading.

I’m not exactly apologizing, because I don’t really feel bad (because life is life and children are children and people are people and those are all The Most Important) but just stating the obvious.

Life is just life, many of our days having been those I consider A Day, and we’re learning every day to find our happy in the midst of slight disorder.

{In other words? My house isn’t staying as picture pretty as my perfectionist self would like it… and I’m okay with that.}

So, since we all know I’m an expert in The Random, I’m reverting to my trusty ol’ something and nothing list. It matches the state of my brain.

A bit of this. A bit of that.

• A few weeks ago, I signed up for The Most Awesome Sewing Class Evah {along with my beloveds, Sara Sophia and Arianne}. I’ve been sewing since I was a nine years old and definitely know my way around a sewing machine, but this class is so much more than following a pattern and ending up with a dress and I want to make all the goodies listed there. The leetle issue? The class started a month ago and I have yet to do the first project. It would probably help if I, you know, actually got out my sewing machine. That’s the plan for tomorrow. I plan to, at least. But I’ll be talking about all of that a bit more next week. I plan to, at least.

• I’m in love with this song. Can’t get enough of it.

• I have so many thoughts rolling around in this brain of mine to share in this little web space and no idea how to make them travel from my head to my typing fingertips. Expect scattered thoughts around here, mmkay?

• Deployment can be hard. Because, whaddayano, six months apart (with another seven ahead of us) really does take its toll… in a million ways. The people who deployed with John and are doing normal-length Marine Corps deployments are getting ready to head home this month. John isn’t.

• I wish I had some chocolate. A candy bar of some sort. A Milky Way, maybe? Or a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup? {what’s your fave?}

• We found out this week that my grandmother has a brain tumor… and things aren’t looking good. We’re waiting now to hear the results of further testing.

• Fall has fallen in the High Rockies. How soon is too soon to pull out the box of autumn decor?

• This has been a week of some firsts around here. But I’ll be back to talk a bit about that tomorrow. At least… I plan to.
  

• The end.

I’m feeling a bit disconnected from all of you these days. Will you talk to me? Tell a few randoms from your own days? Or just say hi? I miss you.

So, without further ado, the much-requested, super easy Banana Roll recipe:

Here is where I tell you that this recipe isn’t originally mine, nor is the trick I learned for making it uber-easy to roll. It was given to me when I was engaged by a family friend who is more family than friend. She lives far away now, but I often miss her laugh and smile… and her food. She not only makes these banana rolls, but also, some killer pancit, chicken adobo and lumpia. There’s nothing quite like some authentic Filipino food, with a dessert of banana roll.

Also? You all might know that we try to be pretty healthy overall in our food choices around here. And while I did use mostly organic ingredients, our own butter and whole wheat pastry flour, the amount of white sugar, cream cheese and butter in this recipe completely nullifies all of it. And I’m perfectly okay with that, because, people, sometimes it’s just way-AY-ay worth it.

Ingredients:

• 1 cup banana, mashed
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 1/8 cup flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 4 eggs
• 1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

For filling (makes enough for two rolls):

• 1 8oz package cream cheese
• 1 stick of butter
• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line jelly roll pan with greased wax paper, greased side up.

Mix all ingredients and pour into pan.

Bake 12-15 minutes, or until toothpick comes out clean.

(Now, for the easy roll trick…)

Let cool 5-10 minutes.

Grease another sheet of wax paper and lay, greased side down, on top of the jelly roll pan.

Flip entire pan over, inverting entire pastry onto a flat surface. Gently loosen the lining that is now on top, and set aside.

Roll up.

Let cool another 5-10. Mix filling ingredients.

Unroll. Spread filling evenly. Roll up.

Let children lick beaters from filling and use a serrated knife to cut yourself a slice of perfect pastry!

Not a bad day.

Just A Day.

is not a bad day.

Normal, slightly crazy, imperfect, usually exhausting and overall

just A Day.

How do you know it’s been A Day in your home?

This week has been full of just such days, resulting in much up and about time without much down and at the computer time. But I promise, the banana roll recipe will be up tomorrow. Get yourself some cream cheese and a few bananas and be ready for a Saturday morning treat!

Have you ever had a slice of banana roll? With a fried egg? And a cup of coffee in a pretty mug?

You should.

Also? Holly Hobbie-esque baby quilts?

Made of win.

What quiet moment, little thing, has turned your heart into a smile this week?

This is what I’m working on today:

Yes…

that is an ironing pile.

Some of you old timers may remember when I was an ironing fanatic.

I’m not anymore.

{there are a few of my husband’s church shirts in there}

{you may recall that he’s been in the sandy spot since March}

The words “toddlers” and “deployment” come to mind.

What are you working on this week?

If I could turn back the page and find the chapter of a week ago…

I’d be rushing through a morning, brushing little teeth, tying shoe laces,

hopping in the car to drive two hours to the airport.

I would come home that afternoon, one less passenger,

unaware that the week ahead would prove difficult, overwhelming,

that tears would be shed,

that the very walls would witness heaviness of spirit.

But, neither did I see the moments

of smiles when a picture was drawn in crayon on a green page,

of dancing when a DVD arrived from Afghanistan,

of giggles in the morning, toddler time snuggles,

of being rescued both physically and emotionally by ones who love us.

If I could run backward, and end up last year,

I would be running in the door from the gym,

swapping a bag loaded with a water bottle, towel, and membership card

for one filled with swimsuits, sand shovels, sunblock and oversized towels.

We would head to the beach, shoulders tan from a long summer.

The idea of moving to the Colorado mountains would simply be hypothetical,

and the journey through another deployment seemed distant,

mere cloudy hues in the bright San Diego sun.

If I could turn the clock and  find myself a girl of five years ago,

I would be on top of the world,

and yet sick as could be.

Still basking in the glow

of one whole married year

to the man who was

more than my dreams.

Newly expecting a baby,

praying daily that we’d actually hold this little one.

I would have just stood as a bridesmaid,

clothed in laughter and purple,

unaware that only four months later

the groom would reach ahead and grasp eternity.

If I could bend the calendar and see ten years ago,

I’d be a bright eyed teen

in a pink flowered jumper I had made myself,

espresso dark hair to my hips.

I would be helping with breakfast

for a family of four

in a home overflowing with light and joy.

I would be few of friends,

but have a mailbox full of letters bearing pen pal addresses.

I would pore over magazines with black and white pictures.

I would have no idea that within a year

our family would receive the first shaking

of long-held ideas.

Nor that, 366 days later,

we’d be mourning the untimely death of

a beloved uncle.

I couldn’t have seen I was living in the end of an era.

If I could jump into a timeline and land twenty years ago,

I would be a pony-tailed girl

in a polka dot sundress and pink dinosaur high tops.

I would have a mama who was newly following Jesus

and I would be singing The Butterfly Song with Psalty

in the back seat of our Volkswagen.

We would be just months away from welcoming

a new little dark haired boy

to our tiny family.

My daddy would be starting a new job,

a firefighter in a California desert city.

He would swing me into his arms and dance with me in the kitchen.

My heart was safe and innocent.

I didn’t know,

in these long-ago days,

that this earthly life is filled with change,

with pain,

with love,

with heartache,

with joy.

Some days, I wish to go back.

I long to be the unseen hand,

changing life courses

and altering

a moment

an action

a look.

But would I,

truly?

{I don’t know.}

“I could have missed the pain,

but I’d have had to

miss

the

dance.”

~from a song I can hardly listen to, because it always makes me cry

Look back, a week ago, twenty years ago?

What of your dance?

According to Random.org, the commenter who wins $25 store credit from Mimi’s Babies Etsy is:

Alisha Lesage
(yahoo email)

Alisha said she is a fellow Etsy addict and that she doesn’t often wear many pretties in her hair for doing housework. But, Alisha, let me tell you… wearing a flower in your hair, even if you’re just in an old t-shirt is sure to brighten your day even more than a shiny sink. You are going to have THE MOST FUN picking from the goodies offered by Mimi’s Babies!

It was the middle of December 2007–Christmastime. Things were crazy. Everything from the past two months seemed to have hit me that day–my newborn, my husband’s surgery, a trip to Colorado, Christmas preparations, and a deployment date looming in the near future. This particular day was filled with a million little things, and I felt I was hanging by a thread.

In the late afternoon, I finally managed to find a moment–one moment. I thought if I could just take a quick hot shower right then, it would wash away the craziness of the day and all would be fine.

An hour passed, and between several phone calls and door-bell rings, I still wasn’t in the shower.

A harried mess. That’s what I was. I sat Troy down in my bedroom with a stack of books and a couple toys, put 6-week-old Merritt in his bouncy seat, and hopped in the shower.

But, unlike my expectations, the stress didn’t wash away with the water. I could only feel the tension in my heart building as I ran my long to-do list through my head. I could hear the ringing of the phone–again. The baby was beginning to get fussy and Troy was tired of looking at books. It had been all of two minutes.

I pushed my hair under the stream of water, letting it rinse the shampoo out of my hair. As I wiped the water beads out of my eyes, I heard a whisper.

Be still.

Gently the words came. I pushed them out of my head, trying to focus on the days, weeks ahead of me. There was so much to think about, plan for, keep straight in my head. How desperately I wished time could stop and give me a week to catch up. It was all just so much and I…

Be still.

So softly, that Voice spoke directly to my heart.

Lord, don’t be ridiculous. Be still? Now? Not happening.

I heard the baby crying with all his might. Hurry. Rinse out the conditioner. This shower had taken long enough. Next on the list? Get dinner started and then I’d have to hurry…

Be still. Quiet your heart. Know I am God.

I sighed aloud. Okay, Lord. Okay. Quiet my heart. I’ve made a note of it and I’ll be sure to do that. Maybe once the kids are in bed. Or something.

That still, small voice is persistent. Our little back-and-forth continued as I finished up my shower and went about getting ready.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Lord, my heart replied. I already do know you are God. Of course I do.

Be still, and know that I am God. Quiet your heart before me.

~*~

This evening, things were completely chaotic in our house. What was really only about thirty minutes felt like days.

We were on our way to our church’s annual mission’s dinner. I had made food, was scheduled to work in the nursery for the service after the dinner, and was hoping to catch some of the preaching through the television screen in the nursery.

But my reality at that moment wasn’t so rosy. Both boys were crying. This was not just fussiness or whimpering. Troy was sobbing as if his life was ending. Merritt was screaming with everything in him.

I was beside myself.

I hurried them both along. I tossed brownies on a plate. I ran in my heels to fill diaper bags. I replaced the binky. I consoled. I held. I got impatient and spoke too harshly. I walked into the kitchen, away from the boys, and let out a long, at-my-wit’s-end-again groan. I put the baby in his carseat, directed Troy to the door, slung my purse and the diaper bag over a shoulder and picked up my plate of brownies, nearly forgetting to grab my Bible with that extra hand I don’t have.

And then I heard it in my heart, always so soft and gentle.

Be still.

I was frustrated. Lord, this is NOT the time. I don’t have a second for stillness right now. This is crazy. I feel like I’m falling apart. I don’t even know what I was thinking in imagining I could go to this dinner on my own with the boys.

I locked the front door.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Lord, please, please… what are you trying to tell me? I DO know You are God. You know I can’t be still right now. I don’t understand.

My Jesus is so loving. You know I’m God? Do you really know I’m God? If you know I’m God, you know I’m capable of handling all of this. You know this moment would be better if you placed it in my hands. You know I will fill you with My perfect strength in this moment of weakness. Quiet your heart before Me. Be still, and know that I am God.

I was stopped at a red light. I closed my eyes. This wasn’t a mere suggestion. It was a command.

Be still. Know I am God.

The boys were still crying. I told myself to never again pack so much into one long day.

I don’t feel it, Lord. I don’t feel quiet or still. But I do want to truly know you are God. Please let me see You in this moment, Jesus.

Are you weary tonight? I am. Are you frazzled or is your heart troubled? To say that there is ever time for real stillness in the life of a woman is nearly laughable.

And yet, He whispers…

Be still.

Know that I am God.

Until we’re still… until our hearts are quieted before Him… until we stop waiting for things to slow down before really looking into His face… until we obey His command to be still, even when there is no stillness in sight, we can never expect to fully know He is God.

Be still.