Smiling

We're a laugh a minute over here on Elm Street.  Here is a sample of some recent chuckles.

~ "How old are you?"  asked by a nice, older man at the store to my little man.
" I'm 6 but my Mom makes me be 3."

~ We had leftover cake one night after dinner.  We had been discussing cake for most of the meal as a way to get John and Daniel to eat their dinner.  At the end of the meal, in total surprise Daniel exclaimed, "We're having cake?!"

~"Mom, the bird died so we had a funeral.  I buried it in the dirt (my garden) in the backyard!" John

~Micah is learning new ways to communicate.  He has discovered that a yes to "Do you have a dirty diaper?" means he gets scooped up for a change so he has changed his answer to "Na."  This is better than Daniel's answer of, "We changed it yesterday."  Or the fact that he claims to be mostly underwear trained.  (He is not even close)

~John got a book of jokes from the library.  After he worked to sound out the words and put it together he muttered, "Well, that wasn't even funny!"

Loving God

"Mom, would you still love God if Dad didn't come home safe?"

This question greeted me bright and early a few weeks ago.  It took my breath away.  Chris had been out of town for a few days doing ministry.  He would not be returning for a few more days.

"Yes, I would."  I replied, trying to hide how shaken I was.  Plowing ahead, I also shared that I would be really sad, probably angry at God, and lonely.  Looking only at my sweet baby, I delved into something I know in my head but have rarely had to put into practice in real life; I believe God is good and that no matter what comes my way He works it for His good.

And then a sweet baby we have been praying for died.  I'm a bit soft hearted when it comes to babies so when we heard that this precious boy needed a miracle we had been praying most nights for him.  Then I met him and got to hold his squishy hand in the nursery.  Then he died.

"Mom, do we still love God; the baby died?"

This question greeted me late in the evening.  It took my breath away.  We had interceded, expecting the miracle but God said no.  Snuggled together, tears flowing, "God is still good.  He knows what the baby needed.  He knows how this situation is going to be used for His glory."

I pray these questions and real life moments allow the realness of God grow in my boys hearts.  And in mine.  I never want the mistaken notion that life is always good for those who love God to take root in their hearts.  Or in mine. 

Ridiculous Things I Say to my Kids

In my head I have written this blog post no less than five times.  Chris has been out of town on the East Coast doing ministry for the past 5 days and single parenting makes me want to consume large amounts to ice cream and chocolate.

I was stuck the other day by the ridiculous things I say to my kids.  Here they are with what I am sure they are all thinking as they hear me say them.

1.  Do you want a (insert appropriate punishment here)?
              ~Why yes, Mom, I do want a (insert appropriate punishment here).  That is why I am doing
                this slightly naughty, high annoying thing, so you will punish me!

2. Tell your brother you are sorry!
              ~ Sorry (but I'm not sorry.  I'm only saying this because Mom just told me to and I am trying
                 to avoid the "Do you want a (insert appropriate punishment here)" question.

3.  Why did you do that?
             ~Uh, gee, Mom...

4.  Who left the toilet lid open?
             ~ Not me! 

5.  There is no dating until you are 25.
              ~ Dating?  Who wants to spend time with girls, unless of course it is the neighbor girls, they
                always share their treats!

6.  We're going to (insert destination here), please use the bathroom.
               ~ They do have several bathrooms or even a tree there, Mom.

The Power of Friendship

This is Taylor.  He was a member of my first class at Harrisburg (although I did not have the privilege of teaching him).  His mom is my best friend.  

These two facts have led to an obsession with high school basketball.  Taylor and his team, the Hanson Beavers, are playing for the State B Championship tonight.  I know no other young man on the Beaver team.  Just Taylor.  Still, I found myself cheering and holding back tears watching them play last night.  As excited for other young men in Beaver blue as I am for Taylor.

Why?  Why am I nervous for a bunch of boys I do not even know?  Why am I in tears, my heart spilling over with pride in how these boys conduct themselves?  It all seems silly, the workings of an overly emotional girl.

The power of friendship.  Sarah is important to me so Taylor is important to me.  I have shared in his growing up for the past five years.  I have prayed for, hoped for, and seen God's guidance on his life.  Sarah and I have walked through a tough boss, job changes, babies, surgeries, Bible study, college choices, heartbreak, and more.

The power of friendship makes these games important to me.  Even though I can't be there, I cheer and pray. I exclaim out loud at text messages.  

The power of friendship opens the window to what may be in the future.  With four boys I can imagine sitting in the stands, praying for my sons to perform their best.

Tonight, our house is going Beaver crazy as we cheer for Taylor and the boys.  Ge Beavers!  Beat those Lions!

Fear

When my blue-eyed boy learned to walk at ten months old I nearly had a heart attack every day.  That precious boy got himself in some humdingers!  He has rarely sat still since.  I spent most of last summer waiting for him to return from adventures in the "forest" or a bike race around the neighborhood.

Those sweet memories make this year's reality bitter.  Two years ago John got bit in the back of the leg by an over-excited dog.  For two years fear has been leaching onto John, slowly dragging him into a pit of fear.  His fear is one I understand well.  I was terrified of dogs as a girl.  There was a man-eating St. Bernard I had to encounter each walk to the park.  There was a vicious lab who terrorized the park.  Somehow I didn't let the fear keep me from adventures, although I do remember at least once my beautiful sister had to fetch Mom to rescue me from the vicious lab who had surrounded me while I was up on the slide. 

Fear has fenced John in.  Our neighborhood is teeming with dogs, all friendly.  Sometimes the furry friends get out of their spaces and run as wild as the children.  So John remains within sprinting distance of the house.   His fear convincing him that at any moment the licky-monsters are going to turn into "vicious man-eating dogs!"  His fear has convinced him that all dogs are to be feared, even dogs he layed in the grass with last summer.

It has broken my heart.  So we bring it to God.  Every night we pray together asking God to heal him from his fear.  When he goes outside we talk about being courageous and that God is bigger than his fear. 

And we, my blue-eyed boy and I, wait for God to answer....