Hope - What Warriors Are Made of

You say you're disappointed, disillusioned, and life has let you down?  You say your life has been so tough, you've given up hope that things will ever change?  Well I'm sorry, but I don't buy it.


Let me tell you about disappointment.
Let me tell you about life repeatedly slapping you down.  And hoping anyway.

Suppose the one thing you want in life is to have a child.  You pray for a child, finally conceive and carry the child for 7 months and go through 15 hours of labor,  but ultimately just get to hold that stillborn baby for five groggy minutes and have a funeral in an ice storm.  You listen to everyone say it will be okay, wasn't meant to be, yadda yadda, try again. Six months later, you successfully conceive again.  But another month goes by and-- oops, misplaced embryo, this one's dying too.  No wait, its not dying fast enough, and you could die from a rupture, let's start chemo to kill it faster. So your hair falls out. Lovely. 

No problem, you'll just try again. A year goes by. Then two.  Maybe good things don't happen to those who wait-- maybe you have to make them happen.  So you head over to the fertility clinic, shots every day, feel like a pin cushion, procedures and blood tests, rinse/repeat, trying to hope each month, but fearing more disappointment.  Finally at last good news.. you're having twins!  Or you were, but sorry, you lost one.  And two months later, the other.  Folks, that's when you feel like giving up.  That's when you start to lose all faith that there is any good out there. But something inside says no, give it one more try.  Hope a little longer.  So you do it all again.. like a zombie going thru the motions... more shots, more pain.  Holding on to that shred of hope.  Four years of this insanity.  Four years of walking by an empty nursery.  Every. Day.

Now they say it worked?  Okay.  You dare to hope a little more.  Wait for the bad news. No bad news comes. Except that now you have to live in a hospital for a month because you have some rare super-sickness.  But death is not coming for this one, and you feel better, and its a boy, and so you start to hope more, until.. You get a new kind of sick.  And sicker.  And he stops growing.  And you're back in that same hospital at seven months along again, hoping against hope that you don't end up with another tiny coffin.  Then one by one, your organs start shutting down--your vision goes next.  This time they say you're circling the drain.  One or both of you is not going to make it.  But in the blackness, somehow you choose to hope and believe a miracle is still possible.

So they take the baby by c-section, and you go into seizures on the operating table.  Usually such seizures are followed shortly by coma and death.  But not this time.  No, this is the hope finish line.  This is where the tide turns--where patience and prayer finally pay off, and all that blind faith is rewarded at last.  A few weeks later there you are, walking out of the hospital, healthy, with a healthy baby boy and a second chance at life.

Yes, life is tough-- It's brutal!  You've got to be tougher.  I refuse to believe any situation is ever hopeless.  There is just no such thing, only people who give up.  Yes, good things do come in time, but a lot of pain comes too.  And sometimes the wait is longer than you ever planned.  In the meantime you have to do your best and believe that the good in this world will always be stronger than the bad.  That the pain will only make you stronger, more human, so someday you can comfort and strengthen someone else.  And when good things do come, they're better than you ever imagined.

Maybe just to confirm that the lesson was over, that I'd passed that test, God threw in a little extra surprise for me a few years later. Easy as pie.  No more roller coasters, no super-sickness.  Just sweet rewards.  I think the bottom line is that sometimes fate completely shifts when you least expect it.  Listen.  Our Creator loves to reward his faithful ones.  He loves to reward those who choose to hope when they have absolutely no reason to, who tap into HIS strength when they feel like crumbling.  In His time, with His strength, you will see His rewards. I promise. 

People ask me all the time why I'm so optimistic. Simple answer?  Because I have walked in dark places and learned to look for light.  And when there was none, I've learned to feel the walls-- and walk on in the dark.  If I can hope, anyone can.


"Consider it pure joy, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)

"Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that has been promised to him." (James 1:5-7, 9, 12)

 "And we boast in this hope we have. But we also boast in our sufferings, because we know that it produces perseverance; perseverance produces character; and character produces hope. And hope does NOT disappoint."   (Romans 5:2-5)

 

 

There are soccer moms, there are baseball moms, and then there are those of us who march to a slightly different drum.  We are the few, the proud.  We are the Kung Fu Mamas. 

 

Three days a week, rain or shine, 52 weeks a year, we load up our little warriors and head for the dojo.   We know the difference between a saber and a staff, an orange belt and a green, a Se Fon Se Be and a Kuhn leKuhn.  We can tell you where you left your nunchuks, tie your belt with our eyes closed, and threaten you in sign language through a plexiglass window.   We've cheered through the neverending rank test, felt the pain of the 3-minute horse stance, and screamed with pride when our child, or any child, broke his first board. 

 

We stick together.  We entertain eachothers kids in the lobby. We are a nontraditional breed, we keepers of the stinky sparring gear--a clan of warrior parents encouraging modern kids to master an ancient art.   We've had our share of broken lamps, and we don't always feel like sacrificing our Saturdays, but we believe that discipline and self control are lessons worth learning.   We believe hard work and physical training dont have to involve tossing a ball.   We are the Kung Fu Mamas.   Don't mess with us, and for sure don't mess with our kids.   We may just have a few moves of our own.

Dead Woman Walking

Two more days of life as I know it. Two more days, and half of one is gone. Slow down clock!  So much freedom, so much peace and quiet to soak up before it's gone, nothing but a distant memory. This Friday is the day. D-day. The beginning of ...*GASP* ... SUMMER break! **[insert blood curdling scream]** Yes, I prayed for these children, begged the Lord to send me these offspring. Yes, I adore them (separately, in small doses especially). Yes, I'm thankful for them. But I'm also not ashamed to admit that being a full time Mom is hard work. That 7 and 10 year old boys will wear you out. That I have been spoiled rotten for the past 9 months and am completely utterly not ready for what is about to take place. I will of course make the best of it. I will put on my big girl panties and assume the role of 24/7 entertainment coordinator. I will put on my warrior helmet and forge into the kitchen to become short order cook, referee, spiritual coach, and shaper of young men. I will put on my swimsuit to splash in the pool with them. I will drive them to the movies and the spraypark and the library and wherever else we can dream up a field trip in the triple digit heat. But just for the record, I'm going to be tantruming on the inside, at least for the first week. Because, just like the rest of my school-age SAHM sisterhood, I'm going to be secretly mourning the untimely death of the girl I used to know, lazy spoiled princess though she was-- that carefree girl who enjoyed things called naps, and quiet time, and solo trips to Target.

I just love Saturday. 

That is all.  Carry on.

The Best

 













"There's none so great a gift in all the world as the chance to glimpse life through the eyes of a small boy. "





I've seen a lot of neat things in my life.

I've stood atop the Acropolis in Athens, strolled the streets of Paris, gazed up at Michaelangelo's handiwork in Rome.  I've explored the coral reefs of Key Largo, locked eyes with a giant moray at 90 feet, rode horseback through some breathtaking Rocky Mountain vistas.  Yeah, I've seen some pretty impressive sights on this planet. But none more magnificent than what I saw today.

And I guess you could say that the good Lord and I have done a few cool things over the years-- led local civic organizations, wrote legal briefs that served justice and changed some laws in our state, volunteered with the Preeclampsia Foundation, been interviewed for the evening news on infertility, stillbirth and preeclampsia awareness, even had my poetry read on the air.  Through the years since Maria's death I've had the chance to minister to some precious women enduring things no woman should have to endure.  But none of these things is more significant than what I accomplished today.

No, there have been just a few days on this earth that stand out from the rest--and none of them are the kind you might expect.  Just a few things I've done seem to ring with the sound of eternity. There was the day I held the hand of a woman whose child was dying in her arms-- and found a lifelong friend. The day I sat up talking all night with a stranger who I'd somehow known forever-- and found my soulmate. And then there are the simple unglamourous days of motherhood, when I nurture little souls-- and find my purpose.

Today my six year old son made a simple request. "Jump with me, Momma." 
Jump we did. 
But in fact we didn't just jump--we SOARED. 
We sang. 
We laughed 'til our sides ached. 
We fell exhausted on that big black trampoline, side by side staring up at puffy shapes in a bright blue sky. Then we did it all again.
"This is the BEST," he said, breathless, and kissed my cheek.
"Yes it is," I said.  Yes it is.

I'd been looking for a sign, a stray God-wink of affirmation on my drab daily life in Just-a-Momville. What I got was a giant thumbs-up flashy God grin. 
This, too, is worthwhile. 
This, too, matters.
Today I saw the wonder of life through the eyes of small dirty boy with one front tooth. 
Today I brought joy to an angel in scuffed cowboy boots. 
Today I lived.
And the thought occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, the ripples of these little acts--the simple gifts of time spent with these boys--reach far beyond the bounds of my mere imagining. 
Maybe this is, after all, the "best" of me.

Spring Fever

 

I have a love-hate relationship with this time of year.  The roses and azaleas are beginning to bloom, with crepe myrtles soon to follow.  The evenings are longer and the boys and I enjoy our tandem walk/ bike ride to end the day.  On the other hand the grass seems to always need mowing, the weeds always need pulling, and the boys are extra rambunctious, bursting with the energy of Spring.
 
Tonight they were playing "somersault battle" on the couch.  Whose brilliant idea was this?
In this game, you somersault AT eachother, each hurling your body off an armrest toward the center of the couch.  Apparently whoever does not fall on the floor or crack their head on the table wins?
Well not surprisingly Littl’n got hurt.  He made the mistake of proclaiming himself the tournament champion, at which point Bigg’n declared, "OH ITS ON!" The little Einsteins agreed to another round, resulting in a heel to the chin.  "BUT MOM, it's not my fault-- I don't have eyes on my feet!”  And THIS is what happens when i try to have a telephone conversation.
 
On the plus side, it's still cool enough to enjoy hopping on my riding mower with a little Pandora.  This week I got a little carried away belting Zac Brown and doing doughnuts in the yard when I clipped a landscape timber, busting the deck on the ole John Deere. Yeah, Daddy was not too happy with Mommy that day.  But we take the good with the bad, because that's how this life works.  Another day, another season of challenges and growth.

Cracked

"It's not about finding a perfect person to love--It's about learning to love an imperfect person, perfectly."

My husband cannot sit still.

I used to think it was amusing, even cute, and seemed to balance my laid-back inertia. Later, not so much. We now have a little offspring with the same problem, so I'm reminded daily it's not their fault. It's genetic, yo. But seriously?

The familiar scene.. sitting side by side at our laptops working quietly, when suddenly the table begins to vibrate.. then shake violently. Is it an earthquake? A tremor in the force? No, it's a giant leg bouncing like a jackhammer under the table. Grrrrrrr. "Nervous dear?"

If you follow me on facebook, you may have seen this post a few weeks ago...

"If your marriage can survive ____, it can survive anything. Over the years, I've filled that blank with a number of things.. stillbirth, infertility, NICU, parenting, I repeat, PARENTING, and a myriad of other various hurdles. Today I'm adding 'writing a dissertation' to that list. HOLY. MOLY. This will be a great piece of scholarly literature if we can survive with some sense of peace/sanity in tact. Not killing eachother would be a big plus!"

Well, after some thought, i don't think I'm gonna kill him, but ducktaping his legs to the chair has not been ruled out. (And there just might be a stray Valium in his next cappucino.).
 
As I type this, curled up on the couch with my iphone in hand, the big bear is sound asleep in my lap, and all is right with the world. It occurs to me that we might be a little like that cracked set of antique salt and pepper shakers you bought at a flea market ages ago. Their quirky uniqueness was always a big part of their value. Of course they're both terribly flawed, but hey-- they're a matching set. An original matching set, might I add, something becoming more and more rare these days. You could probably get a pretty penny at auction, but no-- these are definitely keepers



 

Castle Wars

Today my sons were having a heated argument, an all too familiar occurrence in our lives of late.  The little one was on the verge of tears, and I wasn’t far myself, when mercifully, Daddy swooped in to intervene.  Handing them both giant foam swords, King Daddy declared, “It shall be settled by duel--Fight!”  The younglings stared at him, dumbfounded.  “Five rounds, best three out of five—Winner takes all, now fight!”

It was brutal.  It was close.  (From what I heard--I confess, the fair queen shielded her eyes).   In the end the youngest squire took a blow to the neck that sealed his fate, and ended the squabble definitively.  No one expected what would happen next, as the proud victor turned to find himself eye to eye with the king himself, wielding a Star Wars light saber. 

  “Now, you shall fight ME.” 

  “But Dad, you’ll kill me!” shrieked the wary warrior. 

  “And don’t you EVER forget it,” declared the king.

As I type this, my sweet sons are seated side by side watching TV, a program they actually agreed upon.  I often question King Daddy’s methods, but for the moment, there is peace in the kingdom.  And where there is peace, there is a happy queen.

Of Horrors

"Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality." 
--Edgar Allen Poe

Ah, the exquisite horror of reality.  A mother knows it well.  At least this one does.  It seems Mr. Poe was well acquainted with my life.

Exhibit A.

"Wow, Mom, I hope brother's tummy feels better soon. But if it doesn't and it's appendicitis and he dies, I hope he comes back with a cool story about heaven.  Please pass the syrup." 

In related news, today the dog brought me half a dead blackbird.  I repeat, HALF-- recognizable only by the remains of it's one small skeletal bird leg.  This is my life, in all its raw and cruel morbidity.  These moments are exquisitely real, and for that I count myself blessed to live them. No, for me the true horrors lie in the monotony between such moments of substance.  And I find at times, like most moms I'm sure, the greatest of courage is required to simply forge headlong into the painfully mundane.  Sock matching, anyone?  Oh, the horror.

Filter

Today my youngest son said to me, "Mommy, I really wish I had a sister."

What I wanted to say:

Shut your mouth, you insensitive little twerp!  You think I'm thrilled your sister died?  You think I enjoy watching everyone around me have daughters, knowing I never will?  Take the knife and twist it why don't you?

What I actually said: 

I know sweetie. That's why God gave you girl cousins to play with.  You'll have plenty of time to get to know your sister in heaven.  Just be thankful you have a brother.  Now eat. Your breakfast is getting cold.

Funniest Things I Heard in 2011

(My 5 year-old floating in the bathtub)
"Look Mommy, if I was a submarine, guys could look out my penis like a periscope!"
 
Conversation with the family dog:
"Alwight, you kin come in da bafwum, but NO wickin ma butt when i'm peein, ya got it?! You juss sit der an watch."

Dan: Dude, why when I turn my toast upside down, the cream cheese doesn't fall off?
Seth: Because the force of the stickiness is greater than the force of gravity upon it. Now if that was jelly it would be heavier.
Dan: So basically, what you're saying is, Daddy is made of jelly?

-Hey, ya got blood on yur fingernail, man.
-Yeah, das fwom my nose.
-Dude, how many times have I told you to only pick the ones that are easy to pick?
 
-Man, I slept like a bear in hibernation.
-Well I swept wike a hurrwicane!
-I guess that's good?
-Yeah, good for me.. bad for da sheets!

-You gonna eat that toast?
-No, you wanna piece?
-Yeah, but give me the part without your saliva. I don't wanna taste your DNA.
 
Dan walks into the bathroom, where mommy's in the tub, my wet hair wound in a bun atop my head..
- Mommy, why you got dat cinmen woll on you head?
- It's not a cinnamon roll, honey.
- Oh pleez don't tell me iss a pile of poo.
- No sweetie, it's my hair.
- Weally? Fank God. Dat was awkwud on so many levels.
 
Conversation with my cajun nephew, Carter, age 3:
- I heard you got yourself a girlfriend?
- Yep, Emily Boudreaux! We goin out on a date afta Crissmas.
- Oh yeah? How old is she?
- She's 3, juss like me.
- So where you takin her?
- Well, i axed her to da chinese boofay, but she say no, so imma take her to da burgah king.
- Oh, and who's gonna drive y'all?
- Uh.. Imma put her in my carseat and imma drive us.

Soli Deo Gloria

Why do I write so often about faith you ask? And what is the purpose of this blog anyway?  First and foremost, it's my earnest desire to bring glory to God. I'll probably never be able to put into words all that He's done for me, but I try. Fortunately or unfortunately, He didn't give me the gift of public speaking. If he had, I'd be shouting from a podium or a rooftop somewhere. It seems He designed me to use written words instead, and gave me the desire to do so.  So, when thoughts come to mind that I think may bring someone a smile, provide a dose of encouragement, or otherwise bring glory to Him, I jot them down and post them here.  Some of what appears here is for sheer comic relief, cataloguing the circus that is my life as a mom of two boys.  I don't know why He'd give me these words except to share them, so here they are.   To God alone be the glory. I want nothing more than to be His invisible microphone, and to give back what little I can to the One who gave me everything.

The Promise

On a cold February morning eight years ago, the world seemed to be crumbling around me. The doctors' voices seemed unreal as their hushed phrases echoed in my blurry mind-- "Not much time," I heard. "Kidney failure.. save the baby... mom's a time bomb.. BP rising.. 24 hours, max." I heard the last words "seizure, stroke, coma, death," but they floated by without any concern on my part. They wouldn't let that happen. They would take our baby first. A baby who I knew was not ready to be born. At least that's what science told us. April seemed a world away, the month we were supposed to have our baby. But the events of the last few weeks had made it obvious we wouldn't get that far. Preeclampsia had reared its head and bed rest hadn't helped. The baby wasn't growing anymore and I'd long since stopped feeling. We'd already brought one stillborn child into the world, buried her and moved on with life. If I had to do it again, I needed to mentally prepare myself. But that February morning, quite unexpectedly, something else got a hold of me and flooded my consciousness.. something I have no words to describe except "hope." Almost in spite of myself, I dared to hope that just maybe, God had something bigger planned.


After the stillbirth, years of infertility and several miscarriages, we had come so far to get to this point. Why would God allow this pregnancy to progress so far, only to end in tragedy again? No, I wanted to believe that He was up to something. Something special. In the quiet darkness of that hospital room, I made a promise. I promised God that day, that if this hope of mine were true-- if He saw fit to perform a miracle, and allow both myself and the baby to come out of this healthy, I would tell everyone I met for the rest of my life what God had done for me. I would shout His goodness from the rooftops for all the world to hear!  I would dedicate this child to Him, and my life to bringing Him glory.  If He did not, we would praise Him anyway and continue to trust in His will.

I'm writing this today because God in His mercy saw fit to fullfill the hope He had placed in my heart. The next afternoon, the baby who was not supposed to breathe on his own, DID. Just three weeks later on February 28th, we brought our "April baby" home in perfect health, with a healthy mom to boot! That is what my wonderful, amazing, powerful God did for me. I am here to tell you, not just that He's been good to me, but that He is good, all the time. No matter the odds, no matter your past, no matter what the "experts" say, there is always, always HOPE. We serve a mighty miracle-working God, who loves us deeply and will bless us beyond our wildest dreams, if we will only put our trust in Him. That's my story.

Sick House Rules

Hello and welcome to the Johnston sick house. You will be convalescing here for the remainder of your illness. Please grab the nearest blanket, lie down and make yourself comfortable while I lay down a few ground rules.

1. I am no longer simply your mother, but also your nurse. It is my job to see to it that you regain your health as soon as possible. All commands and requests of you are made for that reason alone, and not to torture you.

2. As your nurse, I will be administering beverages, medications, and instructions throughout your stay. It is in your best interest to do exactly as I say, when I say it, without argument. If you feel the need to ask "why," please refer to number 1.

3. It is my goal to make you as comfortable as possible, however this is not a vacation. Reasonable attempts will be made to provide some entertainment in the form of books and/or television priveleges. These are privileges however, not rights, and should you have any complaints about the entertainment provided, and/or disagreements with your siblings, you will be promptly escorted to your bed to convalesce in silence.

4. There will be no loud talking, no running, no jumping, and absolutely no horseplay. These will only result in removal of privileges and potentially prolonged illness, thus a longer stay in the sick house.

5. I hope you enjoy your stay here just enought to be comfortable, and despise it just enough to avoid illness at all costs for the foreseeable future.

Empty Pages

Stillbirth has a way of staying with you forever. Even when you're certain you've cried every tear there was, even when you're "over it" for good and you feel like it can't possibly reach you anymore, it can. I remember thinking all those years ago that the hardest part of stillbirth was the surviving--the living afterward. Its not something you should survive, I said to myself. The cruelty of it is that you do. And life goes on. New babies come and you think of her less and less with each passing year.

And then one day, you spot a dusty book on the top shelf, pull it down, and find the pain is still there, right where you left it. Mother's Memories For My Daughter, the book says. Inside the front cover is a letter, written in your own handwriting on loose leaf paper. July 4, 1999. "To my child==Today I found out I'm carrying you!" And the innocent excitement breaks your heart. You flip through the first pages of the book, where you'd carefully written your life story for her and diagrammed her family tree, and on to the part where her story was to be written. "The day of your birth, first smile, first steps, first words, favorite lullibies, songs you liked to sing..." And you can't stand it any longer. "Things we enjoyed doing together" is too much. So you hurl the awful thing into the trash and fall to your knees. And you pray the only words that come to mind.

Lord, please don't leave my baby girl with empty pages. She deserves so much more. Please fill them for her, Jesus. Better yet, tell her we'll fill them together when I get there. Tell her Mommy misses her and we're going to make lots of memories together soon, more than we ever could have here. All the books in the world can't hold the fun we'll have together. But Lord, for tonight, please just hold her, give her my love, and sing her a lullaby for me. Hold my aching heart in your hands too, and bridge the gap between us as only you can. Whisper to me your comfort, and tell me this story won't end with empty pages.

Surrender Pays

Sometimes God does something so magical, I couldn't possibly deny his involvement if I wanted to.  I remember that awful night, a regular Thursday night in late July, when I sat crying in my bed after the kids were asleep.  I was desperate and discouraged about the same old things, and tired of rehashing it all, tiring of my own frustration with life in this tiny, ever-shrinking house.  I remember writing in my prayer journal the words "I surrender."  There was nothing more I could do, so I just handed the whole thing over and went to bed.  I couldn't suddenly make a dream house affordable, change my husband's stubborn mind, or make myself magically content, so I gave up.  Nothing extremely spiritual, just me saying.. "You know how I feel Lord.  I can't fix this.  Here you go."  I think mentally I had to resign my self-appointed job as the one who makes things happen around here.  Try as I might, I couldn't make a darn thing happen. (Sounds like a lesson I'd learned a long time ago re fertility, but alas I'm prone to repeat courses.)

Anyway, I remember waking the next morning with a new sense of peace about things.  Mid-morning the phone rang.  It was my mother-in-law calling to tell me her neighbor's house was going up for sale.  The price was insane and obviously not affordable, but I mentioned it to Don anyway.  His attitude was surprising--okay, shocking, to me.  "Let's think about it before we throw it out the window," was the general idea, so we sat down with a calculator and crunched numbers.. trying to see just how unaffordable we were talking about.  Could we really pull this off?  What I hadn't figured on was the extreme draw for him of being close to family and having two acres of land.  Suddenly what seemed like unreasonable numbers were not so unreasonable at all.  Scared and unsure, we called an emergency lunch meeting with his parents to talk it over.  That night we met with the neighbors to express our interest in buying the house, and four days later, signed a contract.  The rest as they say is history. 

Did I mention this place is huge?  Did I mention it has a jacuzzi, and a playroom?  Surely I have died and gone to heaven.  Now with our house sold, Don and I have moved past the phase of just staring at eachother like "Can you belive this is happening?" to accepting with gratitude the amazing adventure we are about to embark on together.  We prayed for God give us wisdom, to direct our paths, and this is where he led us.  We asked him to close the doors if it was not meant to be, and one after one we watched them open.  As for me, I've finally moved past pinching myself to just taking it all in--just marveling in the awesome wonder of my God. 

There have been four times in my life when I felt --really FELT God's love for me.  Each time it was so palpaple and undeniable, it changed me forever.  First there was the night of our first date, when God dropped an angel in my life, someone I instantly felt I had known forever and knew would make me whole.  Then there was the day of Seth's birth, a miracle in itself.  The day I found out I was carrying Daniel, another sweet surprise from God.  And then there was that day in July of this year, when God said "See?"  "See that I love you, and I'll provide for your needs, and more.  See that you don't have to try so hard--you don't have the power anyway.  See that all blessings flow from me, and I am generous to those who put their trust in me."

Thoughts for the Season

~ There is plenty of time for every good thing under the sun.

~ There are no burdens, just by-products of bountiful blessings.

~ Nothing is required but breathing.. all else is by choice.  Might as well be happy about it.

~ Simplicity and surrender are twin sisters to peace and joy.

~ Joy is contagious, but so is misery.  If I have nothing positive to say, I'll bite my tongue and smile 'till I think of something.

~ Instead of a "To-Do" list, write a "to enjoy" list.  Same list, but so much more fun.

~ Sometimes the best thing we can do is to become like a child.. preferably a non-greedy, non-tantruming child.

~ Complaining, even to one's self, invites darkness.  Who needs darkness in the season of light?

~ The enemy would love to ruin Christ's birthday, and I for one am not going to give him the pleasure.

~ If we have not joy, we have not Christmas.  If we have not peace, we have missed the first and most wonderful Christmas gift of all.

Have a magical, marvelous, peace-dwelling, love-giving, joy-spreading, light-shining holiday season!

My Work Product

  It occurred to me today that some of my blog readers may not see all the photos I post on Facebook, so its high time I post a few recent shots of the boys here.

  The first was taken sometime this summer when they were enjoying the new tire swing Daddy made for them.  I told them to give eachother eskimo kisses and they erupted in giggles.. hence this photo.  It now hangs on our living room wall and will forever remain one of my favorites.  The bath photo was taken this summer too, just before school began.  Their bubble bath is a ritual I often dread, but they enjoy so very much!   

  Thank you, Lord, for the closeness these precious boys share and the privilege of being their at-home Mommy every day!

The Library

It was shaping up to be a great evening and a very successful outing with my two boys, if such a thing is possible. I had devised a point system for keeping their behavior in check, tired of the old "I'm-gonna-call-your-daddy" routine, and was feeling quite proud of how well the system was working so far. Points, I had explained, would be awarded for good behavior and subtracted for unacceptable behavior, with "treats" to be bought at the dollar store on the way home at 50 cents a point. Tonight good behavior consisted of being quiet in the car, staying together, and most importantly using our whisper voices in the library.

The boys loved the new system, and each had earned two points already in the car. We rehearsed our whisper voices before we went in, holding hands. Quietly we perused the children's books, each choosing a few to take home, even discussing in whispered voices why we liked this one or that one. Now we just needed to pick out a few movies and we'd be on our way. Standing there in the movie aisle, Seth (6), who'd had one too many Fiber One muffins at snacktime, let slip a small, almost inaudible gas emission. Of course my three-year-old Dan heard it, stretched out his arm to point, and before I could get my hand over his mouth, announced loudly,

"HE FARTED!"

I fell to my knees, shushing him a minute too late, and tried my hardest not to laugh while I watched Seth walk away, pretending not to know us. My attempt to avoid laughing was useless, since the library's staff and all its patrons had now erupted in giggles. When Seth finally returned to my side, all he could say was "Please tell me he lost a point for that."

We quickly chose two movies and made our way to the check-out, where the librarian smiled gleefully at us, along with a host of patrons at the nearby computers. "Don't you just love the innocence of children?" she asked. "Love it," I said, ready to make our exit.

Walking out, I agreed to let Seth carry the books and Dan carry the movies, so my hands would be free to hold each of their hands. We made it as far as the library lobby before I felt our little train shifting to the right. I looked up to see a sign marked "Return Books Here" and watched helplessly as our beloved Daniel dropped both of our new movies down the slot.

Yes, we went back in, but this time without a trace of pride left. I just stood there laughing while Seth explained to the librarians what his brother had done. With movies back in hand, we moved our little train to the car once more, discussing the meaning of the word "incorrigible." They were good boys the rest of the evening, enjoyed their treats and went to bed without argument. They even earned points during bathtime and redeemed them for bedtime stories. Overall I think the new discipline system was a success--you just can't ask a small boy to ignore bodily noises. (Or book drops.)

You Might Be A Maxed Out Momma...

If you've ever eaten a spoonful of peanutbutter for dinner because you were too tired to actually chew...

If you've ever lost your cell phone WHILE you were talking on it...

If you've ever eaten dinner standing at the kitchen counter because if you sat down, you might never get up again...

If you've ever been driving on "auto-pilot" from sleep deprivation and suddenly realize you have no idea where you are...

If you've ever gone grocery shopping with your children, buckled them in and headed home, only to realize in the driveway that your groceries are still in the buggy at the store...

If you've ever eaten macaroni and cheese with a toddler spoon from a bowl with a suction cup on the bottom...

If you've ever sat awake in the silence for hours after the kids are in bed, just because it sounded so good...

If you've ever laid in bed with a growling stomach trying to remember if between the four meals you prepared, served and cleaned up this evening you actually ate anything...

If you've ever bought new socks for a member of the family, because you were too tired to do the laundry.....

If you're laughing because you've recently done any of the above.....you might be a maxed out momma in serious need of a vacation (without the kids).