If Your Listening Muscles are Exhausted

I've been lulled so long I don't even realize I'm sleeping through her rambling until silence shatters my five-year old white noise.

My glazed over eyes slowly focus on her face, not amused, mouth flat-lined.

I regather. "What were you saying, sweetheart?".

She's been looking at me, really looking. Watching while I wash and wipe and work minutes away. My fully animated darling, now stilled in gray tones, thinking serious.

One silence piercing "nevermind."

She walks away and I look long, really watching, as she goes about her play. She is tall now. Almost to my chest that heart-muscle aches these years swiftly gone by.

And yes, I think of that well loved film with the girl of equal spunk and expressive vocabulary and yes, they are similar in that "she could talk the hind leg off a mule"... but... she is fiery and precious and wise and soul-healing funny.

Why am I missing all that?

For crumbs?

For thoughts I can think later when real rest comes after real learning, play, work? After listening.

Why do I chide her for not listening well, when I do not always do that myself?

I think of the alternative. I think of her talking to other willing ears, myself cut off from her stream of life-sorting thoughts because I wasn't really listening.

For these precious few years, I am her sounding board.

As I listen better and more and respond with real input and interest I notice she actually talks less. So much of her rambling was due to my absent minded "uh-huh..." and "okay..." so that she kept offering other thoughts to try to figure out this confusing life.

All the time this verse burning in my mind:

"He who answers before listening--that is his folly and his shame."

~Proverbs 18:13

What a privilege that I am allowed to be a part of helping her understanding this life.

What a privilege that I am allowed to have her helping me to understand this life.

I only hope to have taught her as much as she's taught me.

And I read it today, in the Proverb to start every month:

"For giving prudence to the simple, knowledge and discretion to the young-let the wise listen and add to their learning"

~Proverbs 1:4-5

I cannot give what I do not have. So I go to Him who supplies all my needs, according to His glorious riches and mercy.

"Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,

and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

Give ear and come to me;

hear me, that your soul may live."

~Isaiah 55:2-3

Due to how sick I was, I did not have a chance to post my list of thankfulness yesterday, so I continue my counting today. All is grace, so I count.

#143 speckled morning light through storm shutters

#144 cobalt blue sky, cloudless and clear

#145 freeways that lead to small roads that lead to loved ones

#146 coconut oil that soothes baby's diaper rash

#147 watching the joy Baby has throwing every item over her shoulder from her sock/pj drawer, usually one at a time.

#148 dimpled knuckle indentions on baby's soft curled hand

#149 Husband's smiling words in wild moments

#150 deep shadowed crevasse on sun-lit bark

#151 amber eyed cats

#152 the un-rushed goodbye hug and his turning at the gate, sweet wave good-bye

#153 little girls with fists full of popcorn

#154 enough window light to not need man made ones

#155 Little Girl grinning wide, eating a grapefruit saying "I'm used to the tartness". Then it hits her, and pirate-eyed she still tries to smile, hands waving wild to somehow, magically, turn sour to sweet

#156 Little Girl's quiet time letter to God

#157 gap toothed grins

#158 clownfish playing hide and seek in ocean's starry grasses

#159 Electric green and bubble pink, soft waving arms of worship

#160 His love like a hurricane, roaring straight through on a clear day

#161 a few days of being free from my cell phone (Baby dropped it in Husband's fish tank-salt water works quick!)

#162 cluttered countertops and crumbed floors-evidence of a morning well spent

#163 lots of kisses to fever-flushed cheeks

#164 the way she says "yes please" and "thank you". She says "even though I'm sick I'm still trying to be sweet." You are, Selah.

#165 Selah's gratitude list that includes things like: "oxygen", "baby sisters", "smiley faces", "that God exists in our lives", "my little pony", "paper dolls", "Little House in the Big Woods", and "angels"

To Vaccinate or Not to Vaccinate... That is the Question

A very, very hot topic question.

Why? Because everyone loves and wants what is best for their child(ren).

I could get super complex with this touchy issue, but let me just state my position simply.

I chose not to vaccinate my children. From my viewpoint, I have no reason to, and a lot of reasons not to. I homeschool. My children have not/will not go to daycare. Etc., etc., etc.

I don't judge you or think you are a terrible person if you do vaccinate your kids, could you please extend the same courtesy to me for choosing not to?

Most of my closest friends vaccinate their children. We disagree. We still love, and like, each other.

While I would not use all of the language used in some of these articles/websites, I think there is excellent information here to consider:

http://www.whale.to/vaccines/mendelsohn.html

***edited to add: click here to read some information on Dr. Robert Mendelsohn(author of the article of the first link I have provided). I acknowledge this study is from 1984. I still place a lot of weight in his conclusions because I have not yet seen medical information that disqualifies or out-dates his findings.***

http://www.nvic.org/

As a woman who has had an abortion at Planned Parenthood when I was 18 years old(and deeply regret that decision), I have followed abortion issues closely since then. The extent of the abortion industry was brought to my attention through my training to become a counselor at my local Crisis Pregnancy Center. I counseled weekly for two years, and experience and personal testimonies confirmed many of the unfortunate, and downright ugly, things I had read or heard about.

Why am I talking about abortion and vaccines? Aborted fetal tissue is what many of the common vaccines use as their original source for diseased tissue.

Others use chickens, rabbits, monkeys, and cows.

Here is a link to a list of ingredients in vaccines(read where it says :Animal ByProducts):

http://www.informedchoice.info/cocktail.html

Also:

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2008/01/02/dead-baby-parts-business-booming.aspx

There is so much more. I am sure this is more than enough to absorb and think about for a "first pass" though.

Please feel free to share your thoughts, opinions, information and perspectives you value, with me!

"As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another."

~Proverbs 27:17

Not always comfortable... but good! I look forward to being sharpened by your love for me and the Truth!

This was written with prayers, deep love, and respect, for you.

Why What You Look Like Really Matters a Lot

We are late, as usual, and I rush, rush, rush applying concealer beneath my sleep deprived eyes.

She stands there, a tall, gorgeous five, framed by the white painted wood that leads to her bedroom and asks me a brush-stopping question:

"Why are you putting on makeup, mom? You are already beautiful."

Why, indeed. A brilliant, simple, deep question. Why, when we are short on time and I'm rushing up a sweat to leave do I take an extra minute for my appearance?

I smile into her stormy-skied eyes streaked with sapphire blues. Ebony dipped lashes blink up and down a sweet, bronze-highlighted curl.

"I am putting on makeup for the same reason I put on different clothes, so how I look won't be a distraction."

* * * * *

What is appropriate, righteous, beautiful, modest... can be a church splitting question. It can be a family splitting question. That is to say: it can be a painful body-splitting question.

"So in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others."

~Romans 12:5

And making every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit is so important... but what do we do when in faith and honesty and sincerity we can not agree on this issue of what it means to be holy and blameless in our appearance and how we present ourselves to the world and to fellow believers?

I work as a professional makeup artist and hair stylist, and after I have prepared a bride for her ceremony and she looks in the mirror I often hear something like this: "Wow. Thank you! I look beautiful, I wish you could come to my house every morning..."

My response? I smile and look her straight in face "No. YOU are beautiful, I am just putting a frame on the masterpiece."

Am I suggesting women should have a makeup artist and hairstylist everyday? Absolutely not. Am I suggesting women should wear makeup every day? Absolutely not. I also do not suggest putting on a beautiful gown for everyday life. But for the celebration of two becoming one, our earthly picture of Christ and the church, in our time and place, these things are a perfectly acceptable, fitting frame.

And the frame matters. So much.

WHY?

Because the frame can highlight or subtract from the masterpiece artwork that is the Spirit of Christ in you.

I go without makeup or styling my hair much more often than not. I do not dress up, or even attempt a "put together" look often. I am a stay at home mom most days, and there is no point to spend a few extra minutes on those things for my children who would wrinkle and stain and head-love away all my efforts within the hour.

So what is the point?

To bring glory to God. This is the ultimate goal of my life, and through my appearance is just one other avenue.

And this does not only apply to makeup, hairstyling and clothing. Facial expression is another way-too-often-underestimated way that we communicate the True Beauty within us.

The Deceiver knows how distracting what the eyes see can be. To so many, all they see is the physical world, they are completely unaware that we war against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

So I try to eliminate distraction whenever I can. That means around family or friends who might be distracted by makeup... I wear very little or none at all. By family or friends who would be more distracted by my tiredness or dressing like a bum, I spruce up a little. The goal is to be a frame that displays Christ in me, the Hope of glory. The same frame is not always appropriate in all settings.

I am running a race in this life, trying to run in such a way as the get the prize. Being in strict training requires various attire. Different seasons in life bring necessary changes to this as well.

That means, with my best understanding of God's will and a clear conscience and an active faith, I have become all frames to all people that I might draw some to the Artist.

And this one body of Christ has many members, and the members do not all have the same function. Not all frames were meant to look the same.

God made us each unique, in our particular and very individual clay frames to display different things about His infinitely glorious beauty.

In this time in history, in this location of the world, how can you best eliminate distraction and draw attention to his glorious beauty by being an attractively fitting frame?

And please don't think I'm referring to only the physically young. Antique frames are some of the most beautiful.

And if I want my frame to have great worth in God's sight, I make it my aim to please Him by adorning myself with the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit.

I am a frame in progress, inwardly being renewed day by day. Until He transforms my lowly body to be like His glorious one, I pray to be as wise as a serpent, and as innocent as a dove.

Working on wearing the habit of a frame that glorifies God with my sisters from A Holy Experience...

What Fills Up the Empty

There is a desert place where emotions barely stir in dry, stagnant emptiness.

This howling wasteland was found on the other side of the high mountain places of my heart where storms rage freely, pouring out deep waters of expression, agony, joy and relief.

This is a stilled place, still enough to look around and recognize the empty. There is nothing as far as my eyes can see except for dust and ashes settling cold that make the space feel even more void and wanting.

Was this part of my soul always barren? Did these fearful questions I can't even whisper always swirl dry and aching just beyond the lush mountains?

He has lead me here, as he has before, to a place hot under my feet and painfully bright for my uncovered eyes, standing bare before the Son. Just me and Him.

Is my hope found in Him alone? Is He alone enough for me? Will I follow wherever He leads, trust whatever He decides? Do I trust Him with my children, husband, family? Do I believe that He is good, even when He allows pain, suffering, death?

It is not a fear of my own death, but rather a painfully fresh recognition of how much I have, and how much I could possibly lose.

I think about Audrey Caroline's story and my children, I think about how both my father's parents are now home with Christ, and that unless untimely death happens, he and my mom are in the next generation to leave this world.

I think about this too:

"Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me;"

~Matthew 10:37

I want to be worthy of Him. I want His perfect love to cast out this fear of loss, of emptiness.

I can not hold onto the people I want to cling to, naked I came into the world, and naked I will leave it. What good will worrying do? I know that worrying will not even add a single hour to anyone's life.

But still fear grips my throat. It aches in my gut. I wouldn't speak it out loud, but it's there.

I think about Job. What if I lost everything I hold dear in this life? Would I still love Him?

I think about other Bible stories. I know "righteousness" does not protect from horrible pain, suffering, death.

I think about Jesus.

I think about Jesus for a long time.

The One and Only who never sinned and yet suffered and died... why?

"When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls."

~1 Peter 2:23-25

He says healing me was worth it. He says my return to Him was worth it.

I look around, over my shoulder. There is no one in this empty but me. Me. He means me.

I take off my sandals on this holy ground. Kneel and raise my hands, stretching high and fingers spread wide.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all...

In all this empty, there is nothing to interfere with the praise He is so worthy of.

The Lord who inhabits the praises of His people fills all my empty.

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless Babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save

'Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain.
Then bursting forth in glorious Day,
Up from the grave He rose again.

And as He stands in victory
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From a life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny

No power of hell, no scheme of man
Could ever pluck me from His hand
'Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand.

Counting thanks today for the fullness of His grace, goodness, and mercy...

#83 That the husband was given bereavement leave from work this week

#84 the whole family will be able to attend Grandmom's funeral

#85 that I have a dear friend who is covering work for me so I can have the entire day for family time

#86 we all have peace knowing she is with Him

#87 smiles and hugs from my children

#88 crazy cats that bring laughter, easing the ache in the air

#89 that He grants sleep as a gift of love

#90 25 years with Grandmom

#91 Being blessed to have her in our home in her last days, being able to sit and hold her hand

#92 Aunt Carmen

#93 Dad

#94 Mom

#95 Jesus

#96 the gift that praise and thanks is to me

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;

his love endures forever.

Let the redeemed of the LORD say this—

those he redeemed from the hand of the foe,

those he gathered from the lands,

from east and west, from north and south.

Some wandered in desert wastelands,

finding no way to a city where they could settle.

They were hungry and thirsty,

and their lives ebbed away.

Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,

and he delivered them from their distress...

He sent forth his word and healed them;

he rescued them from the grave.

Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for men.

Let them sacrifice thank offerings

and tell of his works with songs of joy.

~from Psalm 107

Temple Tuesdays: Chocolate Peanut Butter Drops

This is the favorite go-to treat for the family. We all love chocolate and peanut butter, and it is super simple and easy to make!

Mix equal parts of unsweetened cocoa, organic peanut butter, and raw honey. Taste and adjust as desired.

Spoon onto a plate and cover with cling wrap. Place dish in the fridge for 30 min. Enjoy!

I have to admit, this doesn't often make it to the fridge in "drop" form. We often just eat it at room temperature with a glass of cold raw milk! There were a couple more drops on here... hmmmm... I haven't found the culprit yet...

Happy Birthday Alexa!

Two became one and not quite ten months later after 28 hours of labor 7 lbs 3 oz of joy was born.

We all fell in love.

With her grumpy faces...

Her sleepy faces...

Her sour faces...

Her "bulldog" faces...

Her sweet faces...

Her discovery faces...

Her smiley faces...

Happy 1st Birthday, Alexa! We love you!

Where is Jesus in this Suffering?

Finally, both children were asleep. Peace on their faces. No more needs, wants, questions to force myself to focus on and answer.

It swelled within me until at last I kneeled next to Selah's bed, clinging to the sturdy frame built by her loving Daddy. Forehead on hands, I silently bawled my eyes out in prayer.

Prayer to be a better mother. Prayer to be a better wife, daughter, person... Prayer about things in life I can't control.

A rushing, raging stream of confession of my neediness of Him. A fresh realization of the utter fragility and mortality of this life, these bodies.

How can I redeem these days of suffering?

Something in my spirit couldn't bear the weight anymore. The weight of all the suffering in this house. The suffering of my sweet Grandmom who struggles even to drink. The suffering of her children and my mother doing all they can, feeling it isn't enough....

So much of it is silent. It is a raw silence.

I feel it, see it.

I have never lived with someone who was suffering like this... dying... before. I have always known death at a distance. Even though my Grandpa stayed with us much of time before he passed, it wasn't like this. The shadow of death holds a whole new meaning for me now.

Oh loving Father, ease this suffering that squeezes breath and smiles from this home.

I try to bring the Baby to say hello to Grandmom often. She loves seeing Alexa, one of her five great-grandbabies. Something about cute, chubby trouble that can't help but make you smile. But the smiles are mostly only mouth, not quite making it to her eyes.

My mom, her main care-taker, bears the most of it I think. She is always thinking, researching, trying new ways to ease Grandmom's pain. She often told me before(and after) labor with my children that she wished she could go through it rather than me. She said she would rather be the one in pain than seeing someone she loved suffer, that that was harder for her, not being able to alleviate the pain. As a woman who has had nine home-births, she doesn't underestimate the pain, she just loves so deeply she'd gladly be the one to bear it.

She reminds me of Jesus in that way. She has been reminding me of Jesus a lot lately.

The other day she was gently kneeling in front of Grandmom, patiently dressing her. She loves her, one of her own in the world, and she has been showing the full extent of her love. She was the hands of Jesus Who washes feet. And I saw Him there so strong in the midst of weakness. He whose feet she was washing. One of the precious sick, thirsty, hungry, helpless least of these. Jesus. In both, with both, Emmanuel.

It was a scene I'll not soon forget.

And in all this suffering, my blindness was crushed.

He is both the humble, willing Servant and the One served.

He is here, so very present in this suffering. The beautiful fragrance of His love overpowers the shadow of death. His strength sustains them both.

Sustains us all. All the time. He himself gives all men life and breath and everything else. Why do I regularly forget this and fall into narcissistic blindness?

This suffering crushes pride.

It crushes the walls around my expression of love for Grandmom, for other family members... for mom.

I really hugged mom for the first time in a long time last night. I didn't realize it had been so long until afterward.

It crushes all the facades of my questions, and exposes what is really in my heart.

It crushes unwillingness to ask for help.

It crushes half-hearted prayer.

It crushes so much that I am unaware of that is self-separation from Him.

But He never separates from us.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,

neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth,

nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God

that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~Romans 8:37-39

Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in his body is done with sin. As a result, he does not live the rest of his earthly life for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.

~1 Peter 4:1-2, 1 Peter 5:6-11

Selah

She holds the tiny baby wrapped in soft pink felt and asks to hear to the story again. How her story began.

How do I tell her I almost killed her?

How can I explain why I didn't?

I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. My five year old bundle of joy and life that almost wasn't.

I can't say I already had the appointment scheduled at the same place I had paid for her sibling to be aborted the year before.

I can't say I did drugs to try to make myself go through with it.

I can't say I tried to commit suicide and longed for my own death before ending the life of (another) baby growing inside me.

We snuggle and she wriggles with excitement. She stares, stares, stares at the baby doll in her palm.

"Well..." I breath in deep, those memories, those years. I feel the pain throbbing behind my scarred heart.

"But this is a joyful story" He whispers. I take His offered hand, we walk back to that dominion of darkness that He rescued me from together. His light keeps me from being overwhelmed.

She needs to know He alone can rescue. She needs to hear this story. He knew it would be her story.

She tries to wait patiently for the few moments it takes me begin. She grins from ear to ear and covers her hand with her mouth to try to hide her overflowing excitement. She is about to burst with joy.

I try not to burst into tears.

I smile into her glowing face "I love you so much!"

She wriggles closer, waiting. Hand over grin.

"Well... this baby doll reminds me of what God did in my life through you."

She can barely take it. I'm not talking fast enough for her. But my mind is rushing and my tongue is thick and slow and I have to take every thought captive and stay here and not go back there and remember that I am a new creation in Him.

Him.

My history is His story. Not mine. He is the Main Character. It is His Story Box.

I can continue now. "... Before I had you, I didn't love or follow God." My tender eyes meet her wide ones. Her face says: does mom really mean that? Could that be true?

"... I did a lot of really bad things. But Jesus still loved me. He loved me so much, He gave me you..."

I had begged God to show me His realness. To stop me from destroying myself and every good thing that came my way. To hold me. To love me. Selah is the first good thing that survived me in a long time. He answered my prayers, but in a way I did not expect.

O LORD, the king rejoices in your strength.

How great is his joy in the victories you give!

You have granted him the desire of his heart

and have not withheld the request of his lips.

Selah

You welcomed him with rich blessings

and placed a crown of pure gold on his head.

He asked you for life, and you gave it to him—

length of days, for ever and ever.

Psalm 21:1-4

She smiles unashamedly. She knows that of course she is a blessing. I have said it a thousand times.

"... God taught me all about love through you. He changed my life, and your Daddy's life, and lots of people in the family, and He helped save other peoples lives through you like Connor and Iliana..."

The names of my god-children bring a fresh wave of smiles. They are her dear friends. God saved them from a similar fate.

"...God has very, very special plans for you!"

She holds the baby. I hold mine, growing into a young woman, babyness long left behind. My arms overflow with His reward. We smile.

This is His story. He rescues. He redeems. He rewards. He loves. Oh, how He loves.

Praise the LORD, O my soul;

all my inmost being, praise his holy name.

Praise the LORD, O my soul,

and forget not all his benefits—

who forgives all your sins

and heals all your diseases,

who redeems your life from the pit

and crowns you with love and compassion,

who satisfies your desires with good things

so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

~Psalm 103:1-5

Counting thanks today... overwhelmed by Grace...

#58 Selah

#59 That He forgives all my sins

#60 That He heals all my diseases

#61 That He redeemed my life from the pit

#62 That He crowned me with love and compassion

#63 That He satisfies my desires with good things

#64 That He would reward me after all I've done

#65 That He never leaves me or forsakes me

#66 That He remembers that I am dust

#67 That He promises His righteousness not only to my children, but also to their children

#68 second chances

#69 That He can create a new person out of an old one

#70 He makes beautiful things out of the dust

#71 That one lost lamb is worth His time

#72 He brings me home