Dear Readers...

Hey Friends!

Just wanted to give you a heads up...

I will now be using littlemorganpeople.com exclusively as my blogspot.

Thank you so much for all of your support. I hope that you'll continue to read on!

You can check out my most recent post on the new site, Prone to Wander.

We still have a few kinks to iron out on the new site, but be patient with us...we're working hard to get it going!

To celebrate the switch over, I will be doing a book giveaway in the new couple days.

Instructions on how to enter will be given from the new spot, as well as from the littlemorganpeople facebook page.

Love you all!

Happy Reading! Pin It

Babies

My baby.

My baby, Atti, is 14 months old!

The time is drawing painfully near when he won't be a baby anymore...

The time is drawing near when he'll grow into his full name...Atticus!

Well, maybe not...

(His name makes him sound like he should be out killing Romans... vicously...with swords...doesn't it?)

This hurts my mommy heart. (That he's growing up, not that his name makes him sound like a gladiator.)

Some of you may not know, but I now have 3 children. Three wonderful children, who work me to the bone, and push me to the brink of insanity, and inspire most of my ramblings here on ye ole blog.

Of course I think they're the best thing since sliced cheese. See, I defended them, here, a few posts ago.

But right now, I'm not sure if I'm going to have any more babies...three seems like an awfully good number.

Most of the world would think that having three babies is...so Little House on the Prairie...but there are others, in different circles, who would say that it is selfish for me not to have any more babies when I'm young, and healthy, and able.

I'm honestly not sure where I fall on that issue.

All I know, is that for the last five years, I've carried a baby around on my hip like a security blanket.

And I'm not sure what I'll do when I don't have one anymore.

So much of my identity rests in the fact that I have babies. I have babies. I feed babies. I change baby diapers. I rock babies. I tickle babies. I snuggle babies...oh, there's really nothing in this world like snuggling a sweet smellin' baby...

And at the risk of this sounding a little overly dramatic, when I think about not having any more babies, and letting go of my "mom with babies" person, I sort of feel like a part of me is dying.

Look at that face...

You should have seen me squallin (that's southern for crying) a few months ago when I cleaned out Atti's baby clothes. 

I held one pair of shoes in my hands, unable to drop them into the "give away" box...tears and eyeliner streaming down my face, muffled sobs coming out in waves...

Brandon came in and looked down at me like I was a mental patient, shook his head, and walked out...confused.

I know he doesnt' quite get it. He wants to, but just doesn't.

But I bet you kind of do.

All I know is that God has been good to me in this season of my life. So good. 

And though my season may be changing, God isn't.  And it is in that, that I place my hope.

And who knows, I am still awfully young.  Maybe there are more diapers in my future...

Only the Lord knows.

But right now, I'm going to live in the moment that I'm in.

And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go snuggle this baby... 

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Simple Salsa Recipe

Simple Salsa Recipe

3 or 4 ripe tomatoes, finely chopped *keep the juice!

(any kind of tomatoes will work, but I used Tomatoes on the vine)

1/2 of a Red Onion, finely chopped

( Isn't our God an amazing artist? Look at these colors! )

Fresh Cilantro, to taste

I really can't get enough of this flavor, but a little bit goes a long way for most people.

About 1 Tsp of Salt

Pardon my old lady-lookin hand...

1 to 2 Tbsp of Lime Juice

*Chop everything up really good and mix it all together. Be sure and mix all the juices in, too, if you like your salsa runny.  The great thing about salsa is, you can't really mess it up! It is so easy! And really, everyone likes it different, so don't be afraid to change the measurements around if you feel you need to!

And the Result?

So pretty, and sooo good!

(This is how Frodo likes his salsa...in fact, this may be too chunky for him. I bet he puts it in the blender when he gets home! I like mine with big chunky pieces of onion and tomato with no juice, but either way you slice it, it is healthy and delicious!)

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Surprise: You really aren't the center of the Universe! I am...

Graysen.

Graysen is 5. 

She lives to play outside.

She thinks friends are the best.

She thinks that everything on this earth- the trees, the animals, the flowers, the weather, the people- were put here to serve her.

She's learning how to be a servant to others, but let's just say...she's not a natural.

I've seen lots of improvement, but more often than not, I still find her cat-fighting on the playground over who gets to be the BEST princess. (That would be Rapunzel...in case you were wondering.)

Of course, we train up our children, so if you asked her why God created her, she would say:  "to glorify God and enjoy Him forever", but down in the dark, spiderwebby heart of my beautiful child, she would think...

I was created so that everyone around me could take play with me. Or take care of me. Or laugh at me. Or love me. Or be inspired by me. Or lavish attention on me...

I'm not sure if this (specific sin) is a weakness in her personality, or a hereditary trait, or perhaps a monster that we created in her.

You know that verse in the Bible about the sins of the fathers being passed down from

I do think that this is a problem that we (women) all struggle with. And yes, it is a problem.

Don't we believe that our husbands live solely to die to self and meet all of our emotional needs and desires?

Don't we feel shocked and surprised when friends betray us or neglect us? How could they? Don't they know, I'm me???

Don't we get mad at the poor waiter at the Mexican Restaurant when he takes too long to bring our chips? Doesn't he know, I'm out of chips?!

Aren't we sometimes frustrated when we hear other people talk about their problems? Don't they know what I'm going through??

We still think that the universe spins around us. We never grew out of it. We're still fighting to be the BEST princess on the playground.

Only now, we've had lots of practice...

But hopefully we've had lots of practice killing that sin as well.

And because the Truth has been revealed to me, I can instruct and discipline Graysen for this behavior- guiding her away from those dark, spiderwebby places, and into the light.  

And because I share her nature, I can also sympathize.

Graysen, I know this temptation well!  I remember what it felt like to think that I was the center of all the universe.

Five minutes ago.

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Water a la Rubber Band

Yesterday I woke up with a headache.

Last night, I realized that the only liquids I've put in my body in the last three days are coffee & diet coke.

And I'll just put a heavy emphasis on coffee. (As in, a friend came over to visit, and I was so caffeinated that I couldn't sit down or speak a complete sentence.)

In an attempt to remedy that, I gagged down drank a glass of water.

It (the water) tasted like I had left it outside all day in the hot sun, marinating rubber bands in it. So obviously, this morning, I woke up with a taste in my mouth like I had spent the night outside chewing on my tire.

I instantly regretted it, as the taste refused to go away even after brushing. Then I thought,

I wonder if something was wrong with that water...


I bet there was a boil notice and I didn't see it...


I bet it had anthrax in it...


That's absurd...


I'm probably just going to get bacteria in my stomach...


If something happens to me, my children will never be made to brush their teeth again...

Then I took a step back and looked at myself in disbelief. Something is wrong with you,  I told myself.

Then I thought,


It's probably more likely, that it has been so long since I've had a glass of water, that I've just forgotten what water tastes like. 

Perhaps all water tastes like rubber bands...




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Boy Toes

The other night, Graysen and I snuggled on the couch together and picked our toes.

She asked, "Mommy...when you were little, did you have toes like your daddy's?"

I started to answer when she interrupted me, "Cause I do."

She let out a long sigh, and a sad look came across her pretty face.

"And that means, someday, I am going to be a boy..."

Because, in case you didn't know, big boys grow out of boy toes, and they take over your person, one puppy dog tail at a time.

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Not how, but why: Defending my little people against a world that hates them.

Yesterday my mom came to town to take the kids on their spring/summer shopping trip. Thanks, Neanie!

I don't know if you fully grasp the circumstances here, but think:

5 year old girl, 3 year boy, 1 year old boy.

Think:

Double stroller containing cranky older kids.

Moby wrap strapping youngest, squirmiest child to my person.

No naps. Distracted supervisors.

Hours of searching through 5T girl's clothes to find outfits that are both trendy and modest.

Judgemental onlookers. Everywhere.

You sitting in my shoes now?

K. good.

Now, despite how stressful that sounds, I actually had a great time.

By God's mercy, I was able to really enjoy my children in the midst of their napless fussiness.

The judgemental onlookers, however, did not seem to be enjoying my children.

In fact, as we stood in line at one particular store, I noticed that the lady behind me was staring.

She was in her late 30's, dressed in Yoga pants and a tight fitting workout top. Her nails were manicured, her make-up meticulously done, and a large swoop of stiff hair supported one rather large, rather expensive-looking pair of sunglasses.

One of her hands held a large pile of women's clothing, the other hand held a smaller hand that belonged to the stretched little arm of the cherub faced little boy who stood next to her.

He stared up at me with a sweet little grin.

I rocked my youngest in my arms, held the hand of my 3 year old- who was crying, and whispered sweet nothings to my 5 year old to keep her from getting restless. My own hair was a mess. Half my make up had been rubbed off by the fussy infant on my chest, and my soccer-mom-white capri's were wearing three, red, ketchup stains that were left there by my french fry-eating 3 year old.

The cashier jokingly asked, "Wouldn't you like 3 more children?"

"I'd love to have 3 more tomorrow." I quickly replied, throwing her a sweet smile just to put the cherry on top.

The woman behind me joined in, "I don't see how you do it...I really don't."

I felt my face go red, but took a deep breath and forced an innocent smile.

"See how I do what?" I asked.

She shifted the weight of the clothes onto her hip. "Have 3 kids." She shot right back. "I have one and he drives me crazy."

My mind sinfully ran through all the quick-witted responses that I could use , but instead, my conscience kicked in and I calmly reminded myself that my words belong to the Lord.

So instead I said, "Well, I really enjoy my children. They are truly a blessing from the Lord."

And that was it.

My husband pointed out later that what she really meant when she said "I don't see how you do it." was, "I don't see why you do it."

Why would you subject yourself to hours of wiping snotty noses, hours of playing referee, hours of changing diapers, hours of washing dirty laundry and cleaning unnecessary messes, hours of endless wining, hours of time spent on everyone and everything-else?

Why?

Well, this is why:

Because creating these three, precious little people, and watching them grow, and holding their hands, and teaching them to pray, and showing them the love of Jesus, and comforting them when they cry, and holding them when they're scared, and kissing them when they're hurt, and showing them how to share, and teaching them how to forgive and to love one another has BLESSED ME with a bigger, fuller, more rich understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ than I ever could have gotten from living a life of ease and comfort.

And I am not going to apologize for that.

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Homemade Guacamole Recipe

Confession: I used to hate Avocado until a few months ago.

It is now my happy place.

I wish I had a cool story to tell you about how it came to pass that I fell in love with Avocado, but like most good love stories, it just happened one day over a tortilla chip and a Dos Equis.

Anyway, I had no idea that homemade Guacamole was SO EASY to make until we went to this cool little hipster restaurant where they made it for us at our table!

So I tried it at home, and it was delicious! Fresh, salty, and delicious.

There are only 3 absolutely necessary ingredients:

Homemade Guacamole

Avocado (3)

Salt and Pepper (to taste)

Lime Juice (to taste)

Cut the avocado down the middle and separate the halves. scoop out the seed.

(isn't the seed lovely? I wish it was edible.)

Scoop out all the gooey, green avocado filling into a bowl.

Take a whisk or a fork and smoosh it.

(To "smoosh": just mash it up real good)

Add lime juice to taste as well as salt and pepper.

Now, you can stop there, but if I were you, I would also add:

1/8 cup onion- finely diced

a pinch or two of fresh cilantro &

a handful sun dried tomato, diced

Now, mix it all up and stare at it for a few minutes.

Take a few pictures of it if you feel so compelled...it is beautiful, after all.

Then gobble it all up before anyone realizes you've made it.

Mmmmm...

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Henpecked, sort of...

People.

At some point along the way I would have said I was "bad" with people.

Not bad on the surface.

I am from the Delta, after all, but definitely bad at friendship.

For the first part of my adult life, I don't think I really knew how to have friends, or be a friend.

I was afraid of women...rightfully so- we are undoubtably the most viscous creatures on the planet, and I was sure that I wasn't missing out.

But by the grace of God, I came into contact with some absolutely amazing women (I hope you know who you are, I truly adore you.) who showed me what a blessing friendship can be.

Then I came to seminary. Where I live with women. Lots of women. Everywhere. Always. Together. Hormones, Bibles and all...

And friendship is...different.

It is humorous, to say the least, to imagine the hen-pecking possibilities that arise with so many hens having been gathered into such a small chicken coop. And pecked we are!

However, I love these women. Truly. And Ardently.

From these women, I have experienced loyalty. And compassion. And encouragement. My faith has been deepened by them, and my heart stretched to love them all.

For these things I am deeply thankful.

I have also experienced betrayal. And hatefulness. And injustice. And judgement.

And these are hard things to experience anywhere, but in a group of believers, it is... almost unbearable.

But also inevitable.

Unfortunately, this is not heaven. And people are people. Fallen and sinful.

Pastors, pastor's wives, counselors, elders, deacons...

They're just people!

And the true test of living in Christ's likeness doesn't happen when people are tender, and understanding, and loyal, and loving.

It happens when they're awful.

It happens when they hate you, and betray you, and blame you, and hurt you, and judge you.

Living out the faith that brought us all here happens when you love them anyway.

You love them when they don't deserve it.

Cause that's exactly what He did for you.

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Ipods and Equestrians

My husband and his ipod...

It is a serious relationship.

A couple years ago, he bought his first ipod, as a gift to himself. With the money he had saved up from taking back the Christmas gifts everyone got him...

Well, I thought it was great!

Until...

I couldn't peel his sweaty fingers off the touch screen for (his) fear that he would miss something important out in the blogosphere.

Fortunately Unfortunately, my oldest child was bombing away on angry birds one Sunday afternoon when we heard an unsettling noise.

Then, a tiny voice said, "uh oh."

No more angry birds... no more ipod. The face was shattered. Unusable.

We didn't really have the income to buy another one, so my man bought a six pack and nursed his wounds.

Eventually, he healed.

Well, sucker that I am, I got to feelin sorry for him. So this past Christmas I surprised him with a brand-spankin new ipod touch. Who's a good wife?

For a while, we had a rule that the pups couldn't touch it...at all!

But you know how that goes.

So of course, my girl installed all her "games" onto the new Hi-pod...as she calls it.

And we recognize our softness, and hang our heads.

But here's the funny part: As I'm checkin facebook just now, I hear the whinny of a horse.

Immediately, my husband says (way too enthusiastically),

"Oooooh! My horse has an update!"

...

Um, whose horse?

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Homemade Amish Bread

I don't know about you, but I am a total sucker for anything warm, and yeasty, and chewy.

This bread is...well, perfect.

And honestly, it isn't hard to make. I actually made the above loaf without a mixer.

That's right! I am womannnn!

But seriously, have you ever kneaded bread by hand??

It's a work out.

Anyway, here is the recipe: Try it, it is uh-ma-zing.

Amish White Bread

2 cups warm water

2/3 cups sugar

1 1/2 Tablespoons yeast

1 1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup oil

6 cups bread flour

Dissolve the sugar in the warm water and stir in the yeast.

* Make sure the water is not too warm or it will kill your yeast!

Allow the mix to proof (It will look like creamy foam).

Mix the salt and oil into the yeast mix. Then, mix the flour in, 1 cup at a time!

Knead it until it becomes smooth. (You'll get a warm, fuzzy feeling when it's right)

Place it in a well oiled bowl and turn it to coat it with oil.

Cover it with a DAMP cloth, and let it rise 1 hour.

Punch it down (I love this part.) and knead it again.

Divide it into 2 pans. Let it rise until it is twice it's original size.

*I put it on my stovetop and cut my oven on to preheat. The warm air that rises out makes the dough all happy and rise-y.

Bake it a 350* for 30 min.

Take it out and eat half a loaf. Don't feel guilty. You deserve it. :)

Enjoy.

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Living for the next juicebox

This morning I slept late. And by late I mean, 7.

On mornings that I sleep late, my children either do 1. of 2. things...

1. They stealthily slither down the stairs to chew open Splenda packets and take advantage of my absence.

or

2. They become clingy and insecure, and turn me into a human ant-bed, climbing and crawling all over me before finally wilting their warm, squishy bodies all over me, desperately trying to cover as much of my surface area as possible.

This morning, I was the ant pile.

I woke up covered, bruised, and lacking oxygen. I peeled them off- like wet Band-Aids, and squeezed out from under the covers.

Then I told them to snuggle daddy.

Half asleep, I fell down the stairs, praying the whole time that my muscles would wake up.

Once downstairs, I felt around until I found the coffeepot. And next to it, I found a sad, empty, aromatic bag. No coffee.

Of course my eyes flew open, nervously fluttering around the kitchen.

No Coffee.

You know that dramatic movie scene, where tragedy has happened, and the dude- wrought with pain and hopelessness let's out a "Nooooooooooooooo!" and then he rips his clothes?

That was me.

Until...

I suddenly remembered that small bag of breakfast blend I had stashed in the back of the fridge for just such an emergency.

Like a true addict, I scrambled, half sober, through the refrigerator, spilling things, and knocking things over...

I found my half-empty stash near the back, right where I had left it.

And now, here I sit.

Happily.

Recounting my adventurous morning-tales to you, over this warm, crack-like liquid that I do so amply consume.

And here come my children.

I think Graysen just fell down the stairs. Girl after my own heart.

Straight to the refrigerator and....

A small, panicked voice yells, "Mommy!" The frustrated crying begins, " There's no juice boxes!"

I don't even have to write what happened next. You know.

You know.

By the way, remember that Strawberry Bread recipe I shared with you? An amazing friend photographer just got me a picture for it. Check it out! I know you'll want to make it!

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Date weekend!

This weekend, my (sweet, wonderful, too-good-to-be-true) mother-in-law came to babysit the kids while my husband and I took an overnight DATE!

You jealous?

It was fantastic. It was fun. It was romantic.

We never get away, but in getting away, I realized how absolutely important it is to GET AWAY.

I love my chirrun, oh yes I do! But I'm so happy to have had the chance to take a weekend and fall in love with my husband. He is amazing. God blessed me with a wonderful man, with whom I fight, and laugh, and cry, and rarely, but sometimes...play and rest.

It was a weekend for both.

Want the picture complete run-down?

First, I ate the best hamburger of my life at Five Guys. No jokes, it was legit.

I thought you might be skeptical, so I took a picture of the bag just to prove it.

Then, we checked into our room at the Old Capital Inn. We stayed in the Mississippi Delta Room. Appropriate?

This is me, having my complimentary glass of wine at the Inn, enjoying the rooftop garden.

Brandon, always living on the edge.

Then, we ate at Babalu. Guacamole=win! (chicken tacos= also win)

Brandon seems to be enjoying himself, right? :)

If the above photo left any room for doubt, this one doesn't.

It is so rare to be able to sit under the stars (or smog of Jackson), wine in hand, with no children! So what did we do but sit around under the stars and...talk about our children.

It was a lovely night...that turned into a lovely morning.

And what is maybe the only thing that could

make me happier (first thing in the morning) than a fancy-shmancy breakfast- complete with cinnamon roll??

A fancy-shmancy cinnamon roll...and coffee.

But the real icing on the metaphorical cinnamon roll, was neither the cinnamon roll...nor the coffee.

But the owner of those sweet baby blues, staring up at me over His morning coffee, looking at me like I'm the prettiest thing he's ever seen, causing my heart to flutter.

In the word's of the famous poets, Salt 'n' Pepa,

"what a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty good man."

What a mighty good man.

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love beyond decree

Shame.

Guilt.

Pain.

As christians, don't we love to comfort those who suffer shame and guilt?

I love to wrap my arms around a broken sister and tell her that Christ died and bore her shame on the cross.

I love watching God work healing and restoration in that person.

We love to comfort God's broken people- those who were broken and beaten down against their will, those who suffered (or suffer) at the hands of another.

It is so easy to love them, and to see them as someone worthy of the Lord's grace- of Christ's precious blood. Someone in need.

We can hear their testimony and cry with them, pray with them, accept them, and love them as part of our own bodies- of Christ's body.

I struggle with shame. I wear it like a concrete chain around my neck.

This morning I escaped to my shower and cried out to God like a madwoman. I asked the Lord to take away my shame and guilt. I asked Him to remind me of His promises, of His Son, of His Spirit, that lives in me. Like a woman split in two, I asked that God would cut out my inner person and cast it as far as the East is from the West. Wrought with guilt I begged God's mercy.

This morning was not unique. I do this often.

There's probably a medical "diagnosis" for the frequent happenings within my shower walls. But if we strip it down to it's naked core, we really just see a battle with self. I do battle against my shame and guilt.

Can you empathize? I know you want to.

But what if I tell you that I'm not a victim? What if I'm not simply a broken, afflicted, oppressed, individual? What if I'm not battling demons caused by some nameless tyrant?

What if I bear the cross of guilt and shame because I'm just plain awful? What if I'm the oppressor? What if I'm the afflicter? What if I'm the angry tyrant?

Cause I am.

I'm hateful. Wrathful. Careless. Insensitive. Impatient. Selfish. And just plain mean.

I am not easy to love... by anyone's definition.

Do you still long to hold my hand and cry with me?

Jesus' blood was not shed for the righteous, but the unrighteous. And he loves the offender as much as the offended.

That is so hard to swallow.

Unless, you see yourself as the offender.

And then, it's beautiful.

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Helpless

Nothing breaks my heart like a wounded child- particularly one of my own, but really just anybody's.

The other day on the playground, I watched as a little girl rolled, happily, in a large pile of mulch near the playground by our house. And it wasn't until I heard her urgent screams and saw the desperation on her face, that I realized she was covered- and I mean, covered in fire-ants.

In a state of agony and panic, she managed to shriek out one word, over and over again. "Mom! Mom! Mom!"

She stood at her mother's feet, arms outstretched, completely helpless. She didn't give advice, she didn't try to wipe the furious ants from her own body, she just stood. Screaming. Trembling. Trusting...that her mother, who loved her, would save her and put an end to the pain that enslaved her.

It was absolutely terrible to watch. And since I was holding my own small child, I just stood there, watching, completely unable to help, listening to the sounds of her pitiful screams.

A knot rises in my throat when I think about it. She is fine...by the way! Fully recovered. But it touches my soul to think how she must love that heroic mother of hers.

And it begs me to ask myself, When I stand, trembling, aching, fearful, and in despair...who do I call out to? Do I call out at all, or do I reach down and brush myself off? Do I turn to my husband? My mom? My church? Or my Savior?

Oh, if my heart would but trust in that loving Savior of mine! Wouldn't I reach out to Him in times of trouble to find Him there, willing and able to comfort me and give me rest!

I pray that my heart would be faithful. I pray that I would stand at His feet, having nothing to offer, knowing my helplessness, knowing my need. Trusting in the one who can save.

And I pray this for you, too.

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Blogging for books!

So I started blogging for books, which is really cool because I get the books for FREE!

Yay! Even better than that, if I get high rankings, I get better book selections and I might possibly win free stuff...which is, well, awesome.

So...

I wonder if you wouldn't mind ranking my last review?

You can do that, here.

In case you take time out of your busy day to do this for me, I'm going to go ahead and say thank you in advance...thank you. You are amazing, and I love you.

Sincerely.

:)

Did I mention that by rating my review you automatically enter yourself for a chance to win the book that I reviewed? There's some motivation for ya!

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Puddles and Pottys

If you get all wiggly and awkward when you read words like tee tee, or potty, or poo poo, then you should probably abort reading this post. :) It's not for you.

Which, by the way, I was just told by a new non-southern friend that the word, "tee-tee" is a southern word! In't that weird?? In fact, the way she said it was, "The other day, another lady- not from the south, asked me, 'have you heard them call it "tee-tee" yet'?"

I'm sorry if I just caused you to OD on quotation marks, but I thought that was funny. ha!

Anyway, on to the point of this post...

I'm potty-training my middle child!

And really, there's nothing like potty-training to set your nerves on edge, but keeping a good sense of humor during the process is important. *giggles frantically*

I actually didn't realize that I was on edge until I caught myself rushing to the bathroom in a tizzy after I realized that I needed to go tinkle. Oops, wrong person...

Ha ha. Oh yeah! That 30 second window is actually not as important when it's you that has to "Go"!

Whew. Sigh of relief.

There is something slightly sweet about it too though isn't there?

Potty training reminds me of this verse,

1For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 2 a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 3 a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5 a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6 a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; 7 a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8 a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

Wise words. This is so true isn't it? Our lives are just a sequence of seasons. Good seasons, bad seasons, hard seasons, joyful seasons, seasons of learning, seasons of forgetting, seasons of healing, seasons of peacemaking, seasons of resting.

Knowing this sort of makes me sad for the seasons that have already come and gone...while at the same time, I'm happily anticipating other seasons yet to come.

But it definitely takes some of the stress OUT of potty-training, doesn't it? And in a strange way, it makes you want to stop and savor the cute, little puddle next to the potty. Cause next season, it (probably) won't be there.

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True Love

This past weekend, my husband and I went to the movies.

We never go out, so for us this was a major treat!

So we went to the movies, and we saw a chick-flick. Guess who got to pick the movie??

I won't say which movie, because that is not the point of this post, but I will say,

It was terrible.

It did well at the box office.

It was the most shallow, uncomplicated, unrealistic romance movie I have ever seen. The plot was boring and the character development was...well, there really wasn't any. They ( the people who wrote/produced the movie) are relying on the hope that most of the girls who bought tickets would be thoughless, love-hungry and very imaginative.

Which, proudly, I can say I'm only 1 out of those 3.

I sort of felt manipulated when I left. Like, I knew what they wanted me to do was go home and be dissatisfied that my man is not "that" man.

But really, which man is?

Tell you what real romance is...

Real romance, is my husband coming home at 5:00 (After I have had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, sick day) today with a bouquet of cold medicine, OJ, fresh oranges and a grapefruit, chocolate, and a baked chicken for supper.

That, my friends, is romantic.

Could you write a whole movie around it?

Maybe not.

But it sure made my poor, tired heart skip a beat.

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Book Review: Lilies in Moonlight

Skeptic that I am, I just knew that this book was going to be nothing more than a simple, depth-less, unlikely tale of romantic do-goodery.

I am happy to say, I could not have been more wrong.

Lilies in Moonlight is clever, flirtatious, tasteful, and believable.

For two days, my beautiful children peered at me longingly over their oatmeal, while I reluctantly tore myself from the pages to answer their questions with absent, glazed-over eyes.

Set in the mid 1920's, the story begins in a period of discontinuity and redefinition. With the chill of war still hanging in the air, disillusionment and fear are countered with rebellion and modern, progressive thinking. Springing forth from such a period is our protagonist, Lily Margolis, a beautiful, iconic "flapper" girl. Outwardly, Lily exudes confidence. She is free-thinking and independent, fun-loving and foolish. But in the hidden person of her heart, she is tormented, fearful, broken, and utterly lost. Through a series of events, she is met with her unlikely counterpart, Cullen Burnside, a war wounded, ex-professional baseball player. Together, they journey down the bumpy road of self-discovery. And love.

Though initially it would seem that this is a story about cat-eyes, rebellion, and mischief, the characters' outer layers are peeled back with such tasteful timing, as to reveal much richer, much more satisfying themes, such as trust, forgiveness, restoration, and grace. I do regret that the author did not delve deeper into some of the theological applications of these themes; however, it is possible that her intention was to "plant the seed" so to speak, and allow the imagination room to wander.

Allison Pittman brings the 20's to life in such a way that it's possible to close your eyes and smell the buttery popcorn emanating from the busy, roaring, classic, early American baseball stadium. She paints an accurate picture of the feminist movement, simultaneously illuminating the destruction and devastation that result from living a scandalous, unregenerate lifestyle.

To use the catch phrase of the era, this book was the "bee's knees".

Just read it, and see for yourself. :)

I received this book for free from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for this review. I was not required to give a positive review. All thoughts and opinions are honest and my own.

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A big Battle with little People

Do you ever go to war with your children?

I do.

This week has been a battle of control.

A losing battle for all parties. My children have sensed weakness in me. They know when I am tired and overwhelmed, and they push the boundaries. They see how far they can make me bend before I snap...and snapping is inevitable at this pace. And also unGodly.

Ahh the great conundrum.

(And to all you young, hipster, postmodern mommies who are thinking, "Um, you really shouldn't try to control your children. They aren't objects." --this is what I have to say to you....ha hA HA HA HA HA. Sorry. But no, really. HA HA.

Onward--

So I think I have developed, or picked up, a few strategies that are helpful. I thought I would share.

At the point in the battle when you feel you have lost all control, your children have stopped responding, you feel overwhelmed and defeated...

1. Pray. This is a battle you cannot win. Go to the throne of grace and beg for God's mercy. You are unable, but He is able! And remember, your actions are not reactions to your children's unholiness, but a reaction to the Gospel. You are capable of training and discipling your children by the power of the Spirit who is at work within you. Call out to Him for help- it is your greatest asset!

2. Facilitate an outlet. Are you stir crazy? They probably are too! This would be a great time to take them to a park or let them romp in your backyard. You don't have to stay indoors and watch while they tear down the walls brick by brick. Get them out of the house and into a place where they can be crazy and destructive. Let them play in the mud and cake it over every surface of their tiny bodies...sometimes that is healthy. I mean, grown women pay to have mud spread all over their faces. That stress-releasing-tradition started somewhere, right? Sometimes I even take my 5 year old outside and make her run laps. Sounds mean, but she actually loves it. And when she comes back inside, she has run all her crazy out.

3. Divide and Conquer. Do you have more than 1 tiny person? Because I do. And let me tell you, there is strength in numbers. Separate the tiny people, and you weaken them. Did you know...it is okay to ask your child to spend time alone? For a long time, I had a very unrealistic sense of guilt for asking my children to spend time away from me. That is absurd. Put one child in his/her room for 30 minutes and let one play in the living room. Then switch. If you have time, spend some one on one time with each child- reading, coloring, playing with play dough...this might be a good stress relief for you too! Or ask them to play separately and alone. This is not child neglect. It is good for them to learn independent play!

4. Rethink your House Rules.

(This is advice from my husband-picked up from the Desiring God conference) Your job as a parent is not to make your children conform to the law, but to love the law. Is your house a house full of yes's? Or No's? Do you feel like you are punishing your children for everything that they do? Maybe it is time to rethink your house rules. Your house should be a house full of yes's. This allows you to discipline less, but be firm when you do have to discipline. Think of the garden of Eden. Everything was there for their pleasure, with the exception of one tree. And that tree had serious consequences--death. (This is not me endorsing Capitol punishment for your children.) You can see that our God is a God who delights in our pleasure. He has bestowed on us blessing after blessing, so we as parents should delight in bringing our children happiness. Let them be children. Without giving away your authority, limit the scope of the law to a point that they can begin loving it. Once they appreciate the law's boundaries, you can expand the boundaries with them as they grow. This will probably mean channeling your own creativity to provide them with things to do--in other words, more yes's.

Hopefully these strategies will be helpful for you as you fight for the control of your household.

"Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the things to come." Proverbs 31:25

Do you veterans have any additional strategies that might be helpful to those of us who are still in the trenches? If so, please share!

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Riddles

It's funny (isn't it?), that the group of believers, who are calling out others as wicked deceivers, are doing so by voicing their disdain for religion by narrow-mindedly putting them in a pigeon---hole.

See, I can do it too, I passed eighth grade English. But just because I rhyme doesn't mean I distinguish my point of view in a way that elevates my reason. I'm frustrated that you, zealots, are giving birth to a season--of division.

It would seem those ole boring church folk who "preach grace" are practicing hypocrisy and giving some space to the needy, the broken, the humble and meek, but tell me homeboy...what is it you seek? Tell you what I've learned, in regard to the humble...they aren't out on street corners trying to mumble words about the "true Christians who are tryin". They're sittin at the nursing home with the widow who's cry in.

You want to truly make a difference in the church? Get out of the spotlight and do some Kingdom work.

You got problems with my preacher cause he's not reinventing? Well I guess you would, but know what? He's too busy preventing the sheep in his care from being led astray by bigots and zealots and those who would say that being a Christian doesn't come with a rule book...But take out your Bible with me, take a good look: 1 Peter talks about being sober-minded. Let's look at the next verse together and be reminded...that "He who has called you is holy, you ALSO be holy in your conduct" I'm sorry if sin blinded... you.

I get it that the church and it's people have their issues, what I don't understand is why you choose to misuse your strength to attack those who are sinners just like YOU, when you could be encouraging the burnt out to renew the Faith that the Lord Jesus Christ has gifted them too. Do you really think it's as easy as sifting them through the "new order" of Christian expectations written by you?

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