THE HONEY POT...

This blog has moved...

2012-01-06T12:56:00.000-08:00

If you are one of the few people who actually stop by here for a visit now and then, you can find my ruminations over at Coffee-Break Contemplations from now on. I have explained the reason for the change on an introductory post found there. Thanks for visiting and feel free to continue poking around if you wish, I just won't be posting anything new here anymore.

It's ccccold out there, Folks!

2011-12-08T13:32:00.001-08:00

Winter somehow crept up on me before I even got a chance to paint my toenails and wear sandals. Okay, not really. I got to wear sandals... twice, I think. Anyhow, it's a common thing for me right now to wake up at dawn and whip open the curtains in anticipation of what the lawn is going to look like. Will it be green or white? And by white, I don't mean covered in snow. I mean frozen. The difference between a green lawn and a white lawn first thing in the morning is the difference between simply freezing at my daughters bus stop and freezing our you-know-whats off at the bus stop. It's the difference between two layers of clothes and three. It's the deciding factor between standing on the corner and sitting in the car. Lately it's been alternating... one morning green, the next white. A few days ago, as I stepped out the front door to shew my kids off to school, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful everything outside had become overnight as it developed a thick layer of frost. Everything. If it was outside, it was frozen solid. So I ran back in the house, glanced at the thermometer, which read 28 despite the fact that the sun had been up for an hour and a half, and grabbed the camera. I was in the mood to shoot. The frigid air felt good in my lungs, so I took long, deep, breaths as I scoped out things to photograph and thanked the Lord for the natural beauty that comes with every season.

Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter. Psalm 74:17

I am sort of fascinated by this frozen tub of water on the side of our house. I guess it's the child in me, but isn't this beautiful?

Pleasant words and perfect love

2011-11-05T09:28:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I battled with something painful. In fact, I was reduced to tears as I fought off nagging thoughts that I was a terrible mother. My predicament was this... my five-year-old daughter was driving me absolutely mad, as five-year-olds often do. However, this was different. Well, maybe not so different, you tell me. Anyway, I could feel myself becoming more and more irritated by her as the week progressed and by Thursday I was heartsick. I realized that I get frustrated with her at most bed times; I get frustrated with her while she's getting ready for school nearly every morning; I get frustrated with her during meal times, and so forth. I was flat out exasperated by her every word and action to the point that the child could do nothing right. Was this an issue of her disobedience or of my inability to love perfectly? I decided that it was both. Yes, she needs to work on her behavior, but I need to work on my responses. One of my favorite bible verses goes like this: Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. Proverbs 16:24 (it's on the sidebar of this blog, actually). Pleasant words are so hard to come up with sometimes when you are feeling utterly annoyed by someone, but God says that if we use them, they heal us. So step one for me in this situation is to work on making my words more pleasant when I speak to my baby girl. Lately my conversations with her haven't been exactly pleasant for either one of us. The second step also came to me through God's word. 1 John 4:17 starts out like this, "And as we live in God, our love grows more perfect..." I stopped there when I suddenly understood that I was beating myself up for not being able to love my daughter perfectly, when the truth is I can't. Only God has a perfect love. As much as I love my kids and I want to carry this out in a perfect manner, I don't have the capacity for it. But if I press into God, my love will grow towards it. Truthfully, me not pressing into God is probably the root of this entire problem to begin with. Anyway, I think that these two verses absorb beautifully into one another, despite the fact that they are separated by forty-one books in the Bible. They both stand wonderfully on their own feet, but they do sort of whisper into your soul. However, when united, they achieve something closer to shouting... at least for this mama. Speak with pleasant words and bring healing; live in God and grow a perfect love! Something about those two thoughts are refreshing for me as a mom of two small children who so often becomes irritated and short with her kids. It's a challenge really- a pursuit to speak kinder and love better. And if I do this, I am guaranteed favorable results by God himself!

So, basically I have much work to do, which I know is something you hear me say a lot...

Moms and holiday coffee creamer

2011-11-04T11:00:00.000-07:00

Today is Friday, November 4th and Egg Nog has hit super market refrigerators. But that's not what this post is about, I just had to mention it due to the fact I've been fighting off the urge to purchase a carton for a good two weeks now. I swear that stuff seems to present earlier and earlier with each subsequent year. Upon spotting it well before Halloween I told myself that, at the very least, I could wait until November to pour my first glass of the season. Well, it's November now, so I will be crying uncle any day...

Now back to holiday coffee. Actually, it's not the coffee I am crooning about... it's the creamer for the coffee that is mystifying my taste buds at this very moment. And it seems I am not the only one, for I have been joined by several fellow young mothers, like myself, in what appears to be the 2011 Holiday Coffee Creamer Fan Club. To be a member of this club, creamer titles like, "Peppermint White Mocha," "Pumpkin Pecan," or "Gingerbread Latte," must make you salivate uncontrollably. You must have the ability to lap up your sacchariferous cup o' joe like it's your only chance to taste something decadent all year. What is up with that you ask? Well, I have a rough theory bobbing around in my head about why moms of small children are undoubtedly (although I have no professional research to back this up) the biggest patrons of flavored coffee creamers. You see, we tend to obsess over anything that gives us a booster of self-indulgence. As people who have the term 'self-sacrifice' as a part of our daily job description, we jump at the chance to partake in anything that we don't have to feel guilty for enjoying all to ourselves. And coffee is one of those things... coffee that tastes like you just took a bite of pumpkin pie with every sip is even better! We can get away with finishing off a pint or so of creamer all on our own doing a lot easier than we can an entire pie. Am I right? (Never mind the fact that the pie would actually be healthier).

So my point is, mom, if you recently found yourself stuck in front of the refrigerator at the grocery store with drool accumulating in the corners of your mouth, staring at the numerous choices of seasonal creamer and you ended up buying three of them because you just couldn't choose... you are not alone! And you certainly don't need to feel like you've done anything wrong. Enjoy it! You deserve to indulge this holiday season, my friend. If you don't believe me, just show up at the next Lake Grove MOPS meeting.

I leave you with a little glimpse at the collection that is currently taking up temporary space in my refrigerator...

Tuning out God

2011-10-22T11:14:00.000-07:00

Right now I am snuggled deep into a chair in my living room. My laptop warms my legs with the help of a favorite afghan . Up until now my hands were busily stitching away at a pair of crocheted arm warmers a friend ordered. I was completely lost in my own thoughts and the Barney video blaring from my television had no effect on me. As my fingers paired up with the steel hook to work the warmers into existence, I was quite content doing my own thing while my kids watched television and made a fair amount of noise. With each stitch it seemed a new thought brewed in my mind and I jumped from one of them to the next with no trouble, paying no mind to what was going on around me... until suddenly I realized I was humming along to a popular Christmas carol and I snapped back into reality. Why am I singing? Oh because Barney is on. That's right... it's Saturday. How long have my kids been watching TV? Do they need more breakfast? As a mom, you get pretty good at perfecting a little skill called "tuning out." It's almost crucial to motherhood if you have any hope for keeping your sanity. But sometimes there are casualties of possessing this talent... sometimes you get so blasted good at it that what once was a coping mechanism transforms into a habit and you start tuning out things you shouldn't. Barney is one thing, but it dawned on me just now that sometimes I treat God like a fat, singing, purple dinosaur. It's like he's just "on" in the background of my life. I am aware that he's there, but he has to make whole heck of a lotta noise before I look up at him and receive the message he has for me. What is wrong with this picture? God's voice is not something to be tuned out (or just tuned into whenever I feel like it). His voice is my life line and staying constantly connected to him is critical, whether I am relaxing, cleaning the toilets, parenting, or baking cookies...

I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:5

Apart from him I can do nothing? Yikes! I won't get very far in life doing nothing, will I?

Lord, forgive me for tuning you out.

Worth it

2011-10-07T15:05:00.000-07:00

I generally don't post a whole lot about my children on this particular blog, but after composing this story, I realized that it has a journaling feel to it and would suit this blog well. So, I hope you enjoy it. It's just a quick pluck at the heart strings...

This morning before school there was a small, but hugely heart warming moment between Aly and Landon. You see, Landon, being the individual that he is, doesn't always want to play with Aly, so she often feels like an only child (those are my words, of coarse, not hers). He likes to play in her presence (which I am positive in his mind is the equivalent of playing with her), but due the lack of conversation and interaction between the two of them, it doesn't produce the reciprocal discourse you would typically see between children. So when Landon does interact directly with her, especially when his words are involved, it fills her love tank to the top. She always runs to tell me about it with sheer joy in her voice because these are the moments when she's reassured that her big brother cares for her. This morning was no different. The kids had just finished breakfast and Landon's bus would be pulling up any minute. While he was waiting, I gave him permission to get out the flubber, since he was ready for school (although, come to think of it, I am pretty sure I forgot to have him brush his teeth this morning. Darn it!). Aly, on the other hand, was not prepared for her bus whatsoever, having only eaten breakfast and done nothing else to ready herself. Suddenly Aly hollered out, "Mama, Mama! Landon gave me my flubber and said for Aly." She was so tickled! I shared in her enthusiasm, but explained that she did not have time to play because she still needed to get dressed (the task of getting dressed can easily take a half hour in my five-year-old daughters case). She responded by saying, "but Landon wants me to play with him?!" I could hear deflation in her voice as she questioned me. I suddenly came to understand what an important moment this was between the two siblings. Landon had gone out of his way to place the little green container of flubber in front of his sister (which is the one she normally uses, by the way) and to pair his gesture with the actual words, "for Aly." This was a big deal. Any time Landon does anything for anyone born out of his own independent thinking, it's an important step in his development. It's just not the way he typically operates. He does it from time to time, so it's not unheard of, but we definitely want to acknowledge it each time, since it's a part of his development that still needs growth. For Aly, he may as well have said, " I love you," or "will you play with me?" In fact, by doing what he did, she received it as him asking her to play with him. She is very intuitive and this suits her well having a brother with Autism. Sometimes I think she is more in tune with him than I am. I didn't even see it as him asking her to play with him until she put it that way, but she was absolutely right. He was reaching out to her. At that point, I allowed her to play with the flubber along side her brother just until his bus came. If it meant having to rush things a bit to get her ready for her own bus, it was well worth it. Heck, it may have even been worth it had she missed the bus and I had to take her to school!

Grace, By Eric Enstrom

2011-08-26T08:34:00.000-07:00

I love this famous painting, which was originally a photograph. You've probably seen it and you can read about it here, if you want to. I caved and bought it for a few dollars a while back because I kept noticing it on the shelf every time I went into this little thrift store. I couldn't help, but wonder why no one was buying it and then it donned on me one day that it was probably because I was supposed to have it! ;) I haven't found the "right spot" for it yet, but I am happy to own it. I appreciated it even more when I read the history behind it and discovered the name of it... GRACE.

Mr. Enstrom could have titled this photograph very differently, but he chose to call it, "Grace." Why is that? Why not call it "Giving Thanks?" Is this man thankful for his meager meal? Of course, but I'd be willing to bet that he is even more thankful for what sits on the table next his soup. The word of God - nourishment for his spirit! The word grace means unmerited favor, and how often the Lord lavishes that upon us! His word says, "Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." (Hebrews 4:16) Today I am thinking about the ways in which the Lord has been merciful toward me... they are too numerous to count!

What does grace mean to you?

Short verses that pack a punch

2011-08-20T09:11:00.000-07:00

This morning when I opened my inbox I was greeted by an email notification from one of my favorite blogs (belonging to my adorable cousin, Heidi). I am always anxious to see what Heidi posts each day on The Full Vine because it is pretty much always something I can benefit from... I am either encouraged by a great bible verse, inspired by some fantastic decorating tip, enlightened by a simple recipe, or my life is made easier by discovering how I can use a common household item in a new way. The point is, you need to check out The Full Vine. I promise, you will love it. Today I was energized by this post, that encourages us to enjoy God's strength in our lives, no matter where we are. I was also reminded about how much I love "Short n' Sweet" verses that pack a punch, and it got me thinking about one of my own favorite, easy to memorize, and totally comforting verses. It is Psalm 56:3 and it simply states, "When I am afraid, I will trust in you." I came across this verse when I was searching for one on fear that I could easily pull to my frontal lobe in a hurry. I often struggle with trusting God, especially when it comes to my son, who has major safety issues. Any time I am away from him, fear builds up in my spirit. It is something I am working on and I love this verse because it is useful yet practically effortless to memorize. I say it to myself any time I need to be reminded that God is in control. God designed his word to be this way, so that we would be able to pop his truths right into our hearts where they would be easily accessible to us. And on a personal note, I like to think that God knows what it's like to have "mommy brain" and desperately need verses that are very basic, yet pack a punch. Thank you, God, for knowing how much I would need these tiny snippets of your word tucked somewhere inside of my brain as I go about my busy days!

What are some of your best loved, short verses that pack a punch? Do share...

PP: Little ranch window

2011-07-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

I've been storing this old window in our garden shed for about a year. It came from a ranch and I love that it is so simple and rustic... and small compared to the other windows I have collected. All of it's glass is in tact (which can be hard to find in a well seasoned window!) and it has never been painted. I love using these kind of reclaimed items in my house. You might say that my decorating style is salvaged-eclectic. Ha! Oh it's so fun...and cheap. That's the best part!

I have boatloads of scrap-booking supplies that are shamelessly sitting, unused, in a closet. I simply do not have the motivation to scrap-book these days, unless it's digitally. The process is just so difficult to carry out in the presence of my children, who are almost always in the near vicinity. Perhaps this is an activity I can resume once they are both in elementary school (which is coming up soon, by the way) but for now I will stick to making digital pages, when I feel the itch. Other than the hope of someday returning to traditional scrap-booking, there is another reason I hang onto my tangible supplies. They can be used for so much more than embellishing photo albums and it's so nice to find creative uses for items you already own, right?

So, what can you make with an old barn window, some patterned paper, and a bottle of glue? A pretty piece of art for your wall... or where ever your little heart desires to place it. I originally intended to hang this on the wall, but I stuck it here instead. I may still hang it up, though... I tend to change stuff around a lot. It's just the way I am.

First I had to clean up the window, since it was dirty from the barn I claimed it from and got even dirtier in my shed. I hosed it down and scrubbed the glass. Unfortunately, I didn't get the glass as clean as I thought I did. In certain lights it still looks dingy, but we'll just pretend it's supposed to be that way! After all, it's rustic, right? Then I dug through my stack of art paper and picked out four pieces that were different, but complimented each other. I carefully cut them to fit behind the panes of glass, then dabbed a small amount of glue (actually, it was Mod Podge, if we're being specific) in the corners and pressed the paper down. When you look closely, you can see that it's not immaculate. Like I said, the glass is still a bit dingy, the wood definitely shows it's history, and I didn't do the greatest job hiding the glue. All of this is what makes the piece special and unique, rather than commonplace and flawless, like mass produced, store bought items. I considered painting it, but I am not sure I want to ruin the raw honesty of the unfinished wood. I may paint it some day, on a whim, but for now I think I will leave well enough alone... I am just happy to finally have it out of the shed!

D'OH!

2011-07-20T08:09:00.000-07:00

~~Sometimes~~ It's hard being a mom, internally. We say and do things at a near constant level that we regret and then submerge into a mental battle against guilt for the rest of the day, or perhaps even the week. Imagine yourself at work, constantly screwing up and going, "D' OH!" as you smack your forehead, realizing what a fool you are. Kind of like this:

Yes, I did just refer to Homer Simpson.

Only, in our case, there is no manager to threaten your job based on your stupidity (unless you want to count the newly self-discovered kindergartner who constantly tells you what you're doing wrong!). There is just forgiveness and love to piece you back together and help you succeed in ridding your soul of any residual guilt you might be experiencing. It's a roller coaster of self-induced emotions and our poor children are caught in the loops and bends of it.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, aside from the fact it's a regular part of my life, there is one particular story that I wanted to share. One recent morning, I felt myself avalanching into a really sour mood as I looked around my house. My sour moods are almost always triggered by looking around the house, by the way. I simply couldn't stop the sudden rush of frustration from spewing out in the form of angry comments when I set eyes on my most recent batch of flubber annihilated into a thousand tiny pieces and stuck to the floor. It was the final bit of household debris needed to push me over the edge. My poor husband, who was just starting to recover from a bout of stomach flu, did no more than show his face in the room, when my grumbling began. As he lowered himself to the couch, he uttered in a very disappointed tone, "so I guess it's gonna be a bad day." He's getting used to my monthly melt downs and I'm embarrassed to even admit that they happen regularly enough to require "getting used to." His comment was warranted, though, and it brought me back down to earth, somewhat. It served as a good reminder to me of where this was headed. But I was still feeling rash and continued to unravel from the inside out. My husband made a few suggestions about eliciting the help of the kids more often, to which I contended that the kids are no help at all and that they only make matters worse (i.e everything takes twice as long when they help). Now, hear me out, I know full well how important it is that my children learn responsibility, and there was incredible truth to everything my husband was saying, but remember... I was in a very irrational state of mind. Unfortunately, my kids were in the room when I was saying all of this, too - a major D'OH! moment, about which I am still feeling horrible. I am a firm believer in positive reinforcement and constant encouragement of children, so I am always telling them what good helpers they are, etc. For me to say something like, "the kids are no help," especially in front of them, is spiritually wounding for them, and for me, too. After a few minutes of this damaging conversation, I finally retreated to my bedroom (as my husband had been begging me to do) and called for him to join me. I know he wanted nothing to do with me at that point, but he came anyway and stood there, staring blankly out the window, as I finished my hissy fit. As a text book extrovert, I need to work things out outside of myself, and just having his presence there while I do it, really helps. It's quite unfortunate for him, and I am sure it must feel like he underwent some sort of curse when he said his wedding vows, but this is also how I know he truly loves me - he puts up with it so gracefully. (And, I am working on it, I promise!). After a few minutes of venting accompanied by a few tears, I started to feel better. Then just as we were about to head back down stairs, we heard a loud clunk and rushed to see what the kids were up to. My five-year-old daughter met us at the stairwell and in a sweet voice informed us that she had moved the wet clothes from the washing machine into the dryer for me. The "clunk" we'd heard was the sound of the dryer door closing. She went on to show us a small pile of crumbs in the middle of the floor that she had swept up using the dust mop she'd discovered in the utility room. She was very proud of herself as she showed us what she had done, but not in the typical child-like "look what I can do" sort of way. It was not about her ability to put the clothes in the dryer or sweep the floor, but clearly about the fact that she had helped mom out in the most heartfelt of ways. Apparently, after the two of us had disappeared upstairs, she began looking for ways to help around the house. She'd heard every word, she'd seen my frustration, and she wanted to do something about it. Not only did she want to show me that she could be a help to me, but she also wanted to show me that she cared about me and that she wanted to see me happy. As I stood there taking it all in, listening to her repeat herself over and over, my heart wanted to explode. My husband and I exchanged glances as we thanked her for being such a good helper. It's not like she's never participated in the house work before, it's just that this particular circumstance was special because it was born of a genuine concern for my well being. It also came after hearing the lie that she was of no help to me, which shattered my heart to realize. (She is actually quite the little home-maker, when she wants to be!). I quickly smothered her with hugs and kisses and apologized for the things I'd said and the way I had behaved. It's very humbling to ask your child for forgiveness, but in doing so, you are teaching that child an important lesson about what it means to extend grace to others. Since that day, I have slowly been returning to a place of contentment. That place where you just sweep the floor, and you just do the dishes, and you just fold the laundry, and you just discipline in love, and you just wipe the poopy butt, and you just, and you just, and you just... and you don't complain about any of it because serving your family brings you a tremendous joy that only comes with motherhood. Every once in while I loose sight of that and it really messes things up!

We all have those "D'OH!" moments in life. Heck, they happen daily for me! Some have worse consequences than others, but none of them feel good. I'm surprised I don't have a permanent red hand print on my forehead from smacking myself, especially when it comes to raising my kids. Thank goodness they are so resilient and tolerant of my mistakes as a parent. Thank goodness I serve a patient God who is constantly molding me into something better!

(And I must add that hopefully I have no other likenesses to Homer Simpson!)

Much to do, but oh so tired...

2011-06-25T08:10:00.000-07:00

Wow. I am really tired this morning and there is no coffee. Well, let me re-phrase that, there is no more coffee. I have had one cup and I want more, but we're fresh out. Sometimes I do stupid things, like go to bed after mid-night when I have a child who has super random sleep habits. That's what I did last night and now I suffer the consequences today. Four and a half broken up hours of sleep and a huge to-do list today. Yep, that's me. I really wish I could just crawl back into bed and do this:

Total comfort. That's what I'm talkin' about!

(If that were me, I'd have a massive amount of drool puddled around my cheek. Actually, my son may have come to think of it).

Anyhoo, this is the point in my day where I stand at the bottom of the mountain looking up. With my daughter's big fifth birthday bash around the corner, I have a lot to do. The guest list for the party grew and grew until it had more than doubled my original count. I'm not really sure what happened there, but it will be fun. I'm a bit overwhelmed, but trying to maintain a the-more-the-merrier outlook. (We'll see how I feel about that tomorrow at about 2pm, though!). I have a 2200 square foot house to clean, groceries to buy, and just general preparation for the shin dig. Not to mention there are children to be tended to in the midst of all this. And yet, all I can think about right now is my tired body and the empty coffee container on my kitchen counter...

So Lord,

Even though I really want to crawl back in bed right now, I can't. The good news is, I know you've got my back! While I stand at the bottom of this mountain looking up and thinking about hot beverages made from deliciously seductive smelling beans, I know that no amount of coffee could do for me what you can. I look to you to supply me with energy and make me fully operational today. You are the perfect refreshment and so I draw up a deep breath of you this morning, and ask for just a taste of that sweet motivation I know only you can bring me. Yes, I have a kitchen and three bathrooms to clean; Yes, I need to spend time and money at the market today; And yes, I care what my friends might think about my house when they come over tomorrow (even though I know they won't think a thing). But first and foremost I must get my heart and soul in the right place before I even take one step away from this comfy recliner and take off my robe to start my day. Please come near me now! You know exactly what it is I need to accomplish my tasks with a healthy attitude (because I am so tempted to grumble right now). Fill me up and send me out with a smile, Father. Thank you! Amen

PP: Making my laundry room a happy place (on a tight budget!)

2011-06-23T22:10:00.000-07:00

Does the title of this post sound incredibly oxymoronic to you? Laundry and happy really should not be in the same sentence, I know. Unless you are one of the few exceptional moms who claim to enjoy the process of washing and putting away your families endless supply of clothing, you question where I am going with this. For most people (especially those with children), laundry is a constant contender in the home. It's always there, nagging at you. And you just can't win short of either throwing a blanket over it and pretending it's not there - in which case your family would have nothing to wear - or succumbing to the beast and getting it done - which is an illusion because the laundry is never, ever, ever done! So what can we do to make this battle a little less taxing on ourselves? Create a laundry space that is, at least, a pleasant place to be! When my family first moved into this house, I was thrilled to finally have a laundry room. A laundry room! This meant that I could let the dirty clothes pile up to the ceiling (if I wanted to) and no one would have to know because I could just close the door. Yes, it was a dream come true! Okay, not really because the guest bathroom is adjacent to the laundry room and you actually have to go into the laundry room to use that toilet. Drats! Well, either way, I am glad to have it. Right away I knew that if I was going to spend any time at all in this room, though, it must be revolutionized. We live in a tri-level house and the laundry room is located on lowest level (basically the basement, but only half underground). My point is that it was a dim, closed-in feeling, depressing place when we moved in. The previous owners made a very honest attempt to brighten it up with yellow paint, however, it wasn't right for me. In fact, the yellow paint almost made it worse. Laundry exasperates me anyway, so I didn't really want to tackle it in a room with walls that screamed.

These photos actually misrepresent. Or, maybe it just wasn't as bad as we thought at the time, but the yellow actually felt a bit blazing when standing in the room - much brighter than how it looks here. Don't get me wrong, I do like the color yellow (well, certain shades) for walls, it just wasn't what I wanted for this particular room...

To be honest, I the room was just plain ugly when we moved in. Some people might think, "so what... it's just a utility room." But not me. Right away I thought, "I need to make this place relaxing. A room I don't dread entering." If I could achieve a pleasant environment down there, I might just enjoy doing the laundry! Okay, that's a stretch, but you get my point. My husband totally agreed with me about the yellow not being right for this room and the first thing we did was choose new paint. We opted for a light, peaceful, greenish-blue shade that whispered, rather than shouted. My husband did a great job painting the walls and installing new white baseboards. He even bought "me" new front loading machines. Wahoo! (Some things are just worth spending the money on). One last project that had to be done in this room was to replace the heavy, rusted, steel door to the backyard. The person who owned the home before us had put silicone all the way around the door, sealing it shut due to major leakage. So there was no access to the outdoor stairs that lead up to the yard. This wasn't really a big deal, except for the fact that the seal began to fail and our downstairs flooded during our first major rainy season here. The entire room stood in an inch of water that ran out into the hall way and into the bedroom next door, soaking the carpet. This was a blessing in disguise for me. It meant a new door, which not only meant access to the backyard, but we could add a window to the room! I was beside myself at the thought of a window in there. The tiny, underground room felt sort of imprisoning and a window letting light in from the outside would totally help achieve the environment I was trying to create in there. After our fabulous new door went in, the rest was up to me. The important stuff was done, but I still felt a longing to create a "pretty" space. However, we had already spent a good chunk of money on the room and the last thing I needed to do was fill it with expensive decor. I had a clean slate and a fresh vision, but a limited amount to spend, so the first thing to do was see if I already owned items that would work. For the most part, that idea came up negative. We had just moved from an apartment where I didn't have a lot of space or storage, so I wasn't well stocked on "extra junk" to play around with. Which meant one thing... let the treasure hunt begin! Little by little the room began to come together as I picked up low cost or free items here and there. Before I knew it, I loved the look and feel of my laundry room and had barely spent any money. I'm talking around $10 or so... seriously!

My favorite piece is the antique window I scored out of an old house here in town. I spotted it, along with a few others, being thrown into a pile of rubble when I happened to be driving by. The construction workers were happy to help me load them in the truck. I was ecstatic! Do you know what people pay for these things? Well, lets just say waaay too much. But mine were free and beautiful as can be! I saved a couple for myself and gave some away to friends who equally appreciate this kind of stuff. I decided to go ahead an give this one a fresh coat of paint. While I love the chippy look, I didn't really want what was most likely lead paint falling all over my floor, especially with my kids around. As for the knobs, as much as I would have loved to put antique glass knobs on this puppy, I had to settle for fake ones that I found for a buck each at Joann. I had my sweetheart help me get them on good and tight, and he also helped me attach the wire on the back to ensure that it wouldn't fall off the wall. He's just better than I am at stuff like that, so I like to elicit his help when I can!

The whole set as I found them:

The washboard is authentic and has definitely been used in it's day. I was meddling around at a barn sale last summer when I inquired about it. The seller initially wanted $10 and I passed it up. It was in pretty gnarly shape and I thought I could probably get one in a little better condition for the same price if I kept looking. The next day, we returned to the same sale to pick up a bed frame for my dad and the nice lady still had the washboard. I looked at it again and sat it back down. Just before we left she brought it over to my car and gave it to me. Over the course of the two days we had spoken a lot and had some things in common, so she felt it in her heart to bless me in this way. I was so touched! It's a great washboard, just beat up and rusted. Aged with character. I decided to leave it just the way it was, feeling that "cleaning it up" would rob it of it's story, whatever that story was. Imagine the hands that scrubbed on this? Oh my, if that doesn't adjust my attitude about doing laundry, I don't know what will! I couldn't resist painting a clever little sign on it before I hung it on the wall. Oh, and by the way, the addition of the window allowed for some plants in the room (which just tickled me!). Now had something perfect to do with the adorable plant holders that my mother had given me.

I created this sign myself after scouting out witty laundry room sayings online. I had it printed, then simply stuck it in a frame I had laying around. Yes, I have frames lying around. It drives my husband nuts!

This little sponge/soap holder washboard cried out to me from the shelf at one of my favorite op shops. It was unfinished ceramic and just begged for someone to come along with a paintbrush. It was actually kind of cute the way it was, but you couldn't really see the etched wording, so I like it much better this way.

I brought home the beach grass with me from last summer's trip to the coast... it works well, right? See, it's that kind of thinking that saves money! By the way, I have a very hard time passing up old bottles and jars (especially turquoise ones) when I find them for the right price.

I knew this small pail belonged in this room when I saw it, but I had to think of a clever purpose for it. Turns out it serves well to sit next to my dryer and collect lint (which is a great fire starter, by the way!). It's currently time to empty it, as you can see. I am in love with this little blond girl! She has a way of cheering me up while I am switching the clothes around.

I am also in love with these two darlings, who do the very same thing for me! If you can't tell, the little man is holding a seashell up to the little woman's ear. This was actually a large poster in a very pathetic frame when I got it - I think it came from a hotel or something, judging by some wording it had at the bottom - but I loved the picture so much that I cut it to fit this rustic wood frame. I even had my husband use one of his fancy electric saws to cut the acrylic covering that came with it, rather than buying a new one. He's amazing. I can always count on him to help me with some silly project, like cutting a sheet of hard plastic. That doesn't even seem possible to me, but he's always got the right tools and the right skill to do just about anything I ask him to!

So that's about it, in terms of the laundry room. I still have some thoughts rolling around in my head, but that's what I've done so far. I didn't spend much at all (on the decor) and was able to create the environment that I wanted. Laundry really bothers me. Not because it's particularly difficult by any means, but because of it's persistence. It is absolutely merciless! Short of walking around naked and asking my family to do the same, I simply cannot avoid it no matter how hard I may try. To be honest, it's not the process of getting it washed and dried that exasperates me, it's putting it away, which actually has nothing to do with this room. Regardless, I wanted to take a room purposed for something that burdens me and make it tranquil - a place where I can breath easy - in hopes that I might dissolve some (even if just a tiny bit) of that animosity I feel toward dirty (and clean!) clothes. You know what? I think it worked!

PP: A few oddball items

2011-06-21T17:15:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm not sharing every single little treasure I've ever found, bought or acquired, on this blog because that would just be silly, but it's tempting to do so. I'm not sure why, it's not like you really care about my stuff. It's me who values it, not you. And honestly, I'm not as attached to these things as it might seem. I like to think I am not a materialistic person. Having said that, I really don't have all that many belongings in comparison to some people, but I still have a lot of empty space around my house with the potential to fill. That's kind of a scary thought! This fascination I have for treasure hunting is a fairly new thing for me, pretty much starting when we moved into this house two years ago and I realized how much space I had to work with. It also began when I got a taste of the money I could save by decorating with pre-owned or do-it-myself items. I simply cannot afford to buy expensive items, and now I wouldn't even want to! I find the neatest things at the best prices this way and it's much more fun. (Plus, I have a hard enough time trying to get my kids to respect the old stuff!). My parents have been doing this sort of thing for years, which is why I said earlier that I am finally getting in touch with my pickin' blood! They used to drag me around to thrift stores, swap meets, flea markets and yard sales as a child and I loathed them for it. I guess it just took me a little longer to catch on. I'm sure they love that I jumped aboard the wagon. My in-laws are the same way, so my husband and I had no chance - we were destined to be bargain hunters (oh my poor kids!). Last night while my husband and I sat on the couch watching Mike and Frank dig through some old man's junk on American Pickers, I thought out loud, "God help us if we ever get that bad!" The good news is, that while I find places for things around my house, my husband actually likes to sale his treasures if he thinks he can make a buck. So we have a good thing going! A happy medium, if you will. We will never be as bad as the folks on American Pickers, I promise. Our common sense is still in tact (I think!).

Having said that, I do so love to pick up oddball pieces here and there, if they have character and I have a spot for them!

Here are some of those "oddball" items:

A stray antique Seyei China dish that I purchased for $2 from an old lady's yard sale

When I first picked up this next item, I had no clue what it was for, but discovered that it worked well to hold toilet paper. So that's what I've been using it for, however, it used to have a hook on it that I removed and I recently realized that it may have been used to hang a sign. You could put it by your front door and change the sign out from time to time. I think I would actually like to use it for that, but now I've got to track down the hook!

This iron plant stand was from "clean up week" here in town, so yes, basically someone's trash... it was pretty rusty, but my husband grabbed it for me because he knows that I love things to paint and give new life to. It was super easy to spray paint (some things can be left rusty, while some things are just better freshened up!). Since I love plants, I was happy to freshen this up and find a corner for it!

Life Ain't Always Beautiful

2011-06-20T11:02:00.000-07:00

I've had the country song "Life Ain't Always Beautiful," By Gary Allan, stuck in my head for a few days now. I'd been walking around singing the chorus for a while before I really stopped to think about the lyrics, now the words have turned into a coping strategy for me. They comfort me. It's almost like taking a deep breath in a stressful moment, which is something else I often do to bring myself back down to earth. Telling myself that life ain't always beautiful is serving as a reminder to me that it also doesn't have to be. I have pretty unrealistic expectations for myself as a wife and mother, so when I start sensing internal conflict, it's not surprising when I slip into an unhealthy place... emotionally, mentally, spiritually, even physically. It's as if a switch is flipped inside of my soul and I find myself at a complete loss as I desperately try to flip it back. My husband is usually the one to witness this happen... it's usually on his day off, the poor guy. I suppose that's because during the week when I'm home with the kids, I fight against the friction with every fiber of my being to stay strong for them, and then when my husband comes into the picture I release something, I'm not sure what, and let myself crumble right in front of his eyes. I guess it's because I know he will be there to step in when I become useless to my children for a little while. Thank God for that. My husband is always confirming for me that I have it harder than others. While that may sound harsh, a strange thing to say to someone in the middle of a melt down, I understand exactly what he is trying to accomplish by saying this to me. His intentions are, essentially, to get me to stop comparing myself to other people. I want my life to look like everyone else's, and it doesn't. It won't. It can't. Does that give me permission to have a pity-party every few weeks? I'm not sure, but probably not. I do know that life ain't always beautiful, and that's okay. The song goes on to say, "No, life ain't always beautiful. Tears will fall sometimes. Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride." There is so much truth in that statement for me. Not every moment I experience is pleasant, in fact, some moments are just plain agonizing. But it's a process of refinement, and when the ugly stuff melts away, beauty stands in it's place. Occasionally, though, I feel like I am stuck in the melting process. Just stuck. Like my feet are super glued in one of those ugly moments and the more I kick and flail, more glue is applied. I always break free, eventually, but then I am left to clean up the mess... pick at the dried glue, scrub my feet, and lick self-inflicted wounds from all the thrashing about. Beautiful isn't it? No? Well, life ain't always beautiful!

Here's a youtube video if you feel like listening to the song (the video itself isn't very touching, but I thought it was better to post the real music video and not just some video of flowers and trees that someone made).

Also, here's just the lyrics:
(there's a small section toward the end about missing someone, which of course, is not what I am talking about, but I sill love the song and what it is saying in general).

Life ain't always beautiful
Sometimes it's just plain hard
Life can knock you down, it can break your heart

Life ain't always beautiful
You think you're on your way
And it's just a dead end road at the end of the day

But the struggles makes you stronger
And the changes make you wise
And happiness has its own way of takin' it sweet time

[chorus]
No,life aint always beautiful
Tears will fall sometimes
Life aint always beautiful
But it's a beautiful ride

Life aint always beautiful
Some days I miss your smile
I get tired of walkin' all these lonely miles

And I wish for just one minute
I could see your pretty face
Guess I can dream, but life don't work that way

But the struggles makes me stronger
And the changes make me wise
And happiness has its own way of takin' its sweet time

No, life ain't always beautiful
But I know I'll be fine
Hey, life ain't always beautiful
But its a beautiful ride
What a beautiful ride

PP: New category

2011-06-18T13:14:00.000-07:00

This is a brand new category for this blog and it may take a while to get it flowing the way I envision it. In fact, right now it feels sort of offbeat, and I can't help but wonder if I should even be doing this. This poor blog is just like it's author: all over the place. A total hodgepodge! I can't help it, it's just who I am. So I guess it makes sense that my blog would reflect that about me. Moving forward, I know that I am going to enjoy sharing my adventures in treasure hunting and re-purposing items. I am relieved to have given myself an official place to do that now and I hope that someone, somewhere, is inspired. (If not, it's still fun for me!). In the past when I wanted to share a great find, or project, I wasn't sure where to post it. Now I will know! It sounds silly to say, but Junking is more than just a hobby for me, it's actually better described as a way of life. I suppose only my fellow Junkers could relate to that statement. Ha! It's also similar to writing in the sense that it is a creative outlet, and the cool thing is that it ties in easily with writing because I love to tell about/share my adventures. I guess it's not so offbeat for this blog after all...

So, where do I start? I've got a lot of catching up to do. As I look around my house, I realize that practically everything I see (with the exception of a few items that the hubby and I purchased new together... couch, TV, etc.) was either a gift, handed down to me from family, purchased at some sort of second hand sale or store, or even found (yes, I said found, as in completely free!). Disturbing? No, not at all. In fact, it's quite the accomplishment! It means that I have managed to create a unique home environment for myself and my family that is comfortable and reflective of our taste, despite the fact that we don't have a ton of money to "play" with. It means that I've never sacrificed the milk money to buy a magazine rack! I must say, though, that while saving money is definitely a bonus in this endeavor, it is not the main drive behind a Junk Picker's obsession - it's just a perk! If truth be told, I love the hunt, followed by the challenge, of creating something new out of something old. I may not necessarily change an item, I may just give it a new home. Other times, I may morph it into something completely different (which is so fun and rewarding!). That is the beauty in this, there are no rules. Almost anything can be painted, re-covered, or fixed! There is something truly gratifying about "rescuing" an item and giving it new life. There is also something incredibly sweet about bringing several different items together in one room that each have their own story and tell their own tale. I don't hunt for treasures or dig through other people's rejects simply to save a buck, I do it because I love it, and I would probably still do it if I was a millionaire!

To get started, here are a few favorite small items from around my house that I've picked up super cheap here and there:

This little metal pitcher was plain when I snatched it up for a buck or two, so I embellished it with this rustic coffee label and some Mod Podge. You could do this with magazine clippings, scrapbook paper, wrapping paper, etc.

Oh, and I plucked the wheat-looking shoots from the bank of the Columbia River last week. I am not sure what they are, but they're pretty. I hope they dry out okay, so I can keep them. I just have them stuck in the pitcher dry, no water.

I love this frame...

And the photo has a glare on it, but it's just a shot I took at the Dahlia fields

last year of two bumblebees chatting over pollen

I enjoy the crackled paint on this little pot...
The Creeping Charlie plant was a Mother's Day gift
that my daughter brought home from preschool in a cup

I picked up this old pattern tin at a yard sale last summer for a quarter.

It's really not very old (from the nineteen-eighties, I think) but it's still cool!

I'm not sure what I am going to do with it

Cute little pot=$1.50

Cute little stand=$1.50

$3.00

It's true, I'm a fan of the yellowy-aged look.

I can't help it... it's just so time-honoring!

I nabbed these plant holders for $3 apiece without knowing exactly which wall they would end up on. Turns out, I had the perfect spot for them! The only downside is that it doesn't get much light, so I had to find plants that could tolerate being mostly in shade. The two Snake Plants (on the bottom) seem to like the spot just fine, but the Spider Plant isn't quite as happy.

I love the Peacock feathers that mother picked up for me at a friend's ranch!

(My mother-in-law gave me the vase made out of newspaper - you can actually flip the pages)

Another favorite "reject" I like to give new life to is vintage suitcases.

It's hard to leave them behind when you encounter them for nothing or next to nothing...

There is just so much you can do with them!

That is all I am going to share for today, but there is so much more. I keep most of the items I "find", as I am not much of a "flipper." That is more my husband's area and he's great at it! More on that later, though...

Cloud Nine

2011-06-14T23:22:00.000-07:00

The other day during an ice breaker game, I was asked to describe what it is that brings me "bliss." I quickly scrambled for an answer, and surprisingly enough, I could only come up with two words: my children. Shocking, I know! While there are many things that bring me sheer delight, a sort of euphoric, I-could-stay-like-this-forever, sort of feeling (dark chocolate, a good cup of coffee, basking in the sun, making love, etc.), those things still fail to completely transcend time and space for me (well, maybe with an exception of the last one... tee hee!). But what truly sets me on the top of the world is sitting back and realizing that my life is amazing because God allowed me to be a mother. While I often become frazzled and frustrated with my kids and struggle to find balance in a soul riddled with guilt and self-doubt, I am given refreshing moments here and there where I'm supplied with reassurance and total peace. Those moments come off and on through out the day - okay, maybe they don't show up every single day - but when they do, I am reminded that life is good. Life is really, really good. I have my fair share of struggles and my life is certainly not easy, but those moments when I look around and realize that everything is truly okay, that's when I experience happiness at it's best. Picture me sitting in a plastic yard chair, sun beaming down on my crossed legs, hands folded in my lap, shoulders relaxed, as I gaze across the lawn at my filthy, little rug rats digging holes together in the dirt under a tree and realize how utterly in love with them I am. I have nowhere to go, nothing else to do, and not a darn thing to worry about. It may not last long, in fact, it may only be a matter of seconds before I would have to jump out of my chair and defuse a feud having something to do with a stolen shovel, but I'd have had my few seconds of absolute bliss! I'd have visited that place where reality and fantasy overlap and you realize that your reality is as good as a fantasy. That your life is complete. So, although my kids can drain me like no other, and although my words and actions don't always reflect it, it's a fact... those two have the ability to put me on Cloud Nine. My ultimate bliss. Not just a craving or a fix, like coffee or chocolate, but the real deal.

Saying yes to drugs.

2011-06-13T14:09:00.000-07:00

I rarely find myself writing about my personal struggles anymore. I am not sure why I stopped doing that, but it's possible that this may be the reason I feel so tied up in knots all the time - because I don't write my feelings out like I used to. (Also, I decided long ago that I wasn't the type to keep a regular journal - the pen on paper kind of journal, that is. I've tried. I never keep up with them and what I do write, I usually end up ripping out and tossing in the waste basket). I enjoy writing in typed form much more. Either way, writing has been an emotional outlet for me as long as I can remember, but these days I find myself only doing it when I have something that I determine to be important or comical to share. Something I think others might enjoy reading or may benefit from in some small way. But that's not why I started this blog three and a half years ago (wow, has it really been that long?). I originally intended to use this blog like a chimney for my soul, a place to release the smut. The grit and grim that builds up and begs to be released in the form of the written word. Or perhaps, from time to time, I would share my joy and excitement, as well. This place was supposed to be the quasi-ear for things I needed to say that, quite likely, no one else really cared to read or hear about. However, as my writing skills improved, it somehow morphed into a place where I only share the half way decent stuff... the funny stories, devotional-type thoughts, basic epiphanies, etc. And while all of those things are perfectly acceptable and quite satisfying to formulate, I think it's important that occasionally I go back to the basics and just allow myself to spill what's going on inside.

Having said that, I'll be honest right now: I am a mess! There are probably several reasons why I feel so muddled at the moment, but I have to say that I am most consumed by the recent, frightening decision to try medication on my son for his neurological issues. Up until now, I have been adamant about avoiding modern medicine to treat his more challenging symptoms, but as he heads into first grade, it is becoming more and more obvious that medication is an inevitable part of our future. Without going into details of his condition, what we have tried, etc. let me just say that this decision feels like defeat to me. Note the term, "feels-like." I know that's not what this is. I know this could quite possibly be a good thing, the answer to some of our major struggles. It might even be the avenue in which my sweet boy is going to meet his full potential in life, but after several years of refusing to even entertain the thought of medication, this is an extremely difficult step for me. I haven't called his doctor yet, I have simply finally admitted to myself, and to friends and family, that we need to look into this. Admitting it was hard. I cried when I received encouraging words from friends, the first people I opened up to and shared with that I was considering this for the very first time. Friends who know how hard I have tried to avoid this, who know what I have been through with my son, and who will give love and support, no matter where this new part of my families journey takes us. For some people, the decision to put their child on medication was easy. I have talked to several of these moms, and most have shared that it has been life changing, an obvious answer to a challenging situation. But I, on the other hand, really thought we could do this without going that route, so deciding to do so, for me, is the equivalent of letting go of a dream. It's painful and scary. Like all moms, a number of irrational thoughts spin around in my head on a daily basis when it comes to my kids, so when something this big and this real materializes, my natural reaction is to freak out. And that's where I'm at right now: the-freaking-out-stage. Often when I have negative emotions brewing, they come bubbling out in the form of anger. That's not a good thing. In fact, it's a very bad thing that makes an ugly situation even uglier. So, I went to bed a few nights ago mad, and what started out as being angry at my husband (who totally didn't deserve it, by the way) turned into a one hour-long crying fest in the dark with my head under the blankets. Shortly after turning out the light and falling into bed, my sobbing seemed to transport me to a place of more rational thinking, and I realized where my sudden mood shift was really coming from. I am tied up in knots over this decision to finally release my son to the hands of doctors (and to God, of course) to see if we can better his life through the use of drugs proven to benefit people with his diagnosis. (Although you would never know that was the cause of my outburst if you had been a fly on the wall that particular night). I don't know where this is going to lead, I don't know if we will even find something that can help him, I don't know if he will experience side effects, and I don't know if this is the right thing. I take that last one back, I actually do feel like this is the right thing, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. It all boils down to one issue for me - I have developed major trust issues in recent years. Mostly with God. As pathetic as that might sound, all of my fears come back to one thing, not trusting God with my life, with my kids. Looking back six years ago, when my miracle boy came into this world fighting, we didn't hesitate to sign every release form placed in front of us by his doctors. We trusted every drug that they told us he was going on, and we trusted God to heal him through the use of these drugs. Never once did we consider the side effects or that they wouldn't work. We were desperate and we clung to the hope that the medicines gave us. He came home from the hospital still on several of them, and I did what I had to do in order to keep track of dosing and administration. With in one year, he was off of every single one. Since then, he has never had to go back on a regular medication. I suppose in some way this talk of doing so has thrown me back into that place of desperation that I was in before, only this time I am more cautious because I realize that now I do have a choice and I definitely feel the pressure of wanting to make the right one. (I really didn't see it as a choice the first time around, since his life was at stake). Another reason why I think this is so tough for me is that so many kids in my son's situation are over-medicated and that sincerely aggravates me. As a result of seeing this trend, I believe I swung the pendulum in the other direction and vowed to not to medicate him. Honestly, though, I can now see how wrong that is. It's almost like in my pride I wanted to prove something, without considering my son's best interest. All this time, I thought I had his best interest in mind, but I never once considered the possibility that maybe finding the right medication to settle him down, help him focus and be less distracted was in his best interest. In some ways, I am excited. I am excited to try a new avenue and see if there are changes, changes for the better. If there are, then I might wish we did this a long time ago. But in many ways I am afraid (so afraid!) and feeling the familiar weight of mommy guilt (I won't into the reasons behind the guilt right now, it's just something all moms carry around). I just want so badly to see my child succeed in life and be healthy, and what parent doesn't worry about the decisions that are big enough to affect the outcome of that? We all blame ourselves for the things that happen (or don't happen) to our children, and when you have a child who's emotional and physical needs are very demanding and specific, the instinctive protectiveness is greatly intensified. Every decision you make about that child begins to feel like a matter of life and death. Putting him on medication feels like a matter of life and death. There is that irrational thinking again... it gets me no where. So I go into this prayerfully, but very fearfully, clinging to every ounce of hope and faith that I can muster up. The suspense has me on the edge of my seat, as I listen to others moms talk about how life began to resemble something close to "normal" after their child began to take medication. But I was also told that for some it doesn't change anything. If that is the case, I will be seriously disappointed. Could it be possible that nothing is going to help my child? These are the thoughts that cross my mind as I apprehensively consider when to phone the doctor and get the pharmaceutical ball rolling. (Also, I am slightly concerned about is loosing part of his personality. He is such a rambunctious, adventurous, little explorer and I really don't want to suppress that side of him, I just want it to be balanced and safe. There are so many questions, ya know?!)...

I am actually feeling a lot better about this than I was a few days ago when I initially started this post. I think I am past the-freaking-out-stage (although I am sure it will rear it's head when we actually start the process) and am more in a gathering-information-stage now. I am talking to people and sorting through my expectations in an effort to be prepared when I talk to the doctor. I am still a mess, just because, well, it seems I am always a mess... I'm a mom! However, the initial wave of emotions have passed and I am ready to do this. Does it break my heart? Yes. But, when all is said and done, I know I will be glad we explored this option.

Bring on the sweets

2011-06-09T06:34:00.000-07:00

I knew I couldn't do it. I don't know what on earth possessed me to even try. A week without sugar? Not for this mama. A few days ago, I heard myself telling a friend over the phone that there was no way I could do the no-sugar-diet that seems to be all the rave lately. Then after hanging up with her, I had a second thought... why not? I am a self-proclaimed chocoholic with the added bonus of a tooth for pretty much anything sweet, but could I resist it if I tried? I'd never tried before, so how did I know that I couldn't do it. I decided to challenge myself to a single week without sugar, for the sole purpose of proving that I could do it. Then, if I did in fact succeed and physically feel better (which I'm positive would be the case), I would give myself the opportunity to press on with my sugar-free lifestyle...

Well, my friends, I didn't even make it a day. That evening as I prepared myself a salad with Romaine lettuce, cheese, walnuts, carrots, and croutons, I decided to check the ingredients on the crouton bag. Sure enough, there it was... five ingredients down: High Fructose Corn Syrup! In the croutons? Are you kidding me? I actually do try to avoid that stuff when I notice it, but it had never occurred to me that there would he High Fructose Corn Syrup in my croutons, so I'd never checked before. I threw a handful of them in the bowl anyway... I gotta use em' up so I can never buy them again, right? Next I grabbed my favorite dressing, Poppy Seed. I knew there would be sugar in that, as well, since there could not possibly be any other way to achieve the incredible sweet flavor that it has. Sure enough, second ingredient down: Sugar. At least it wasn't HFCS. I moved forward and doused my greens. Sure, there might be another salad dressing in my pantry that didn't contain sugar, but you need to use what is already opened right? I wasn't going to tempt myself to open another bottle by checking the labels. I'd stick to my old stand by, and that was that. So this is how my supper went on... it was even in the barbecue sauce, of course, but who eats barbecue chicken without barbecue sauce? I told myself for that evening it was okay. I had not been defeated yet, I would simply modify. When I said I would go a week without sugar, I was not specific enough. What I really meant was that I would not eat sweets. If "regular" food did not count, this would be a breeze. Or so I thought, but apparently I under estimated the power of chocolate in my life.

Yesterday went well, up until the evening again (what's up with evenings and sugar anyway?). I had exchanged my usual sugar-filled coffee creamer for milk and was happy with that. I had eaten a juicy, white peach and a piece of toast with butter and honey for breakfast (natural sugar was okay) and continued to do well all the way through supper. Things were looking good for me on my second day. However, as night approached I could sense a battle ahead. My husband and I have a good habit of hanging out after the kids are settled into bed, but during that time we usually snack while watching a movie. Attempting to avoid my usual go-to treats, I grabbed a glass of wine and headed for my spot on the couch. I'd be fine with that, I thought, but then I realized I was sipping a dessert wine that just begged for the company of something decadent. I tried to partake of it by itself, but each sip seemed to implore a greater need for confections. Was there anything in my kitchen without sugar that could full-fill this need? I settled for Anderson Peanut Butter Filled Pretzels. They are sweetened with molasses, and while peanut butter pretzels are not an ideal partner for Rose`, I was satisfied with the level of salty-sweet I had achieved. As I sat there, silently applauding myself for making it through the day without sugar (minus what naturally occurred in my food and beverages), my husband, who is generally a mindful person, decided that since he was not attempting the no-sugar thing, it would be okay for him to retreat from the kitchen with a rather large bar of dark chocolate. Um, hello? I was drinking wine! What could possibly go better with that than a square of chocolate? Especially the dark kind! I lasted five minutes watching him nibble charmingly on his indulgence from of the corner of my eye before floundering my hand out in front of his face. He looked at me like, "what?" as if it wasn't obvious. I shared my sudden epiphany with him that this whole no sugar thing was stupid. I wasn't doing it to better my health (which should have been my motive, but totally wasn't), but that I was doing it just to see if I could. And that, I think, is not a good enough reason to deprive myself of something that makes me happy, like chocolate with my wine. I recall him chuckling a little when I contended that "chocolate is healthy anyway," as he placed a bite sized starting piece in my hand.

So, this morning as I jazzed up my coffee, I cringed a little when I threw in a heaping spoon of creamer, knowing full well that I had caved. I have very little will power, I am not ashamed to admit. I suppose the best thing for me to do at this point is to simply cut back. Take baby steps. Either way, I refuse, I absolutely refuse, to ever stop eating chocolate.

Image found here

A lesson from The Goats

2011-05-27T18:30:00.000-07:00

Most mornings - correction - most rainy mornings that I drive my daughter to preschool, I notice four goats huddled together under a tall, wide pine tree just down the road from the school. They are incredibly cute, with their little heads intentionally shoved together near the trunk of the tree, their tails facing me as I drive by. Most of the time they are scattered in their large field, munching on lush green grass, enjoying themselves within the barbed wire fence that defines their frontier. However, when it rains (which it happens to do quite often here) they do what makes the most sense, they head for shelter from the storm. Their shelter happens to be a tree near the north side of the field, where the road is. It always gives me a little chuckle to catch a glimpse of them assembled like this, mostly since it's their butts I see, but it occurred to me the other day that the goats are pretty smart. They don't mess around when it gets tough out there, standing around until they are sopping wet. Instead, they head strait for the best source of protection that is available to them. They also instinctively know that standing close together creates the warmth that they need, so they do it. These goats love each other, and they love their tree. It would strike me quite odd if ever I were to pass by in pouring rain and find the goats rummaging around in a soggy field. This would mean that they had abandoned their protection and sacrificed camaraderie for the option to ruminate alone in the storm. Would that ever happen? Probably not. Goats aren't very narcissistic creatures. People, on the other hand, do this sort of thing all the time. We fail to recognize our vulnerability, or we recognize it, yet we choose to ignore the one, true, source that will protect us from buckling under the weight of it. We tend to think that we can deal with life's ups and downs in solo-mode. Perhaps it scares us to let another warm goat into our space? Whatever the reason for this self-induced desolation, it's completely avoidable, if we would just take a lesson from nature. Animals always do what makes sense, so why don't we? God is there. He is always available, always listening, always loving, and always protecting. We can depend on him, just like those goats can depend on their tree. Likewise, we can (or should be able to) depend on one another. There is never any reason to saunter around in the mud and muck, clinging to our independence like it's going to rescue us. God has provided himself as the perfect shelter from the storm, and he has even gone so far as to create within us a need for intimate human relationships, so that we can experience his touch by being together and leaning on each other. If a bunch of goats can do this, I think we can, too!

2 Corinthians 1:3-7 - All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. Even when we are weighed down with troubles, it is for your comfort and salvation! For when we ourselves are comforted, we will certainly comfort you. Then you can patiently endure the same things we suffer. We are confident that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in the comfort God gives us.
Psalm 9:9 - The Lord is a shelter for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.
Psalm 18:2 - The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety.
Psalm 22:24 - For he has not ignored or belittled the suffering of the needy. He has not turned his back on them, but has listened to their cries for help.
Psalm 37:24 - Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand.
Psalm 138:7 - Though I am surrounded by troubles, you will protect me from the anger of my enemies. You reach out your hand, and the power of your right hand saves me.
Nahum 1:7 - The Lord is good, a strong refuge when trouble comes. He is close to those who trust in him.
Matthew 11:28 - Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.

(New Living Translation)

Not caring

2011-05-23T10:44:00.000-07:00

This morning, as I loaded my son onto the school bus, I made a jolly comment to his driver, "this kid has had me clear down to the corner and back in my pajamas!" She chuckled and teased that maybe I would be on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow. As I shuffled in my slippers back toward the front door, clad in the incredibly comfortable, fuzzy, green ensemble I had worn to bed last night, I couldn't help but amuse myself with thoughts of how motherhood has changed me. The truth is that it hadn't bothered me one bit to stroll up and down the street in my pajamas while waiting for the bus. Sure, I was following a backpack wearing kindergartner at 8:15am, making our purpose for being outside quite obvious, and I highly doubt the neighbor who drove by and waved even noticed my resemblance to Lime Cottage Cheese Jello, but there was a time in my life when I wouldn't have ventured that far down the block without at least changing into jeans and a t-shirt first. Now days, there are things in my life that are just far more important than what I am wearing... like, the fact that my son wanted to walk around outside for a bit before boarding the bus. If I had taken the time to get dressed, I may have robbed him of that opportunity! Moms make these kind of choices every day, and after a while it just becomes second nature. I actually didn't even consider whether or not to change when Landon asked to go outside, I just took him out. In fact, this is a regular part of our routine, so by now I am sure the neighbors and bus drivers are fairly used to seeing me parade around in my
less-than-glamorous outfits and/or my robe and slippers! It's just part of being a mom and everyone who has ever had children knows that your priorities change drastically when your life is no longer about your own needs and desires. I am thankful for this truth, and I am thankful to be a mom who sometimes finds it necessary to not care!

He comforts those in need

2011-05-09T10:02:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago I had the amazing opportunity to be God's arms. There is nothing quite like knowing that the God of the universe chose you as a vessel to reach out to someone in need of His direct touch. When the paramedics pulled up to my next door neighbors house and rushed a stretcher through their front door, I immediately began to pray. Not knowing what happened or who it happened to, I simply asked God to be present in that house at that moment. I thought about our neighbors, whom we had lived in such close proximity with for over two years now, but barely knew. For the most part, they were quiet and kept to themselves. I was surprised I could even remember their names. My family and I waited to see who, if anyone, would board the ambulance. Sure enough, with in a few minutes, the medical team wheeled out the stretcher, loaded the husband up, and sped away. His wife stood in the driveway, frozen. I began to holler her name, but her back was to me and she did not respond. So I ran to her. As she turned to see who was coming, she immediately fell into my arms and began to weep. This woman and I had barely spoken to each other, now here we were tightly embracing, like family. The hug lasted a while, for I would have stood and held her all night if she needed me to. "Sweet Jesus, my husband just had a heart attack," she repeated intermittently. I can still hear her trembling voice. After the initial rush of sobs and several back rubs later, she composed herself as much as she could and I learned that her grandchildren were inside the house. She had just returned home with them after being gone for most of the day to find her husband lying on the kitchen floor, partially conscious. I offered to stay with the kids so she could go, but she opted to wait for family members who were on their way. I hugged her one more time, then she headed in the house to comfort the frightened children, who had just witnessed the entire thing. I didn't feel right walking away, though, and returned moments later to give her my cell phone number. We were heading out, so I wanted to be sure she could reach me if anything changed and she needed childcare after all. She stepped out on the porch after taking my number and lit a cigarette, which seemed to pacify her immediately. She was more collected now for the kids sake, but clearly in shock as she relived the details while speaking to me. It was during this conversation that I realized the caliber of what had just taken place. As she stepped out on the porch she had thanked me for "that hug." She said several times, "I needed that hug, oh man did I need that hug." It was clear that it had meant a lot to her to fall into someone's arms during what quite possibly could have been the most unhinging moment of her life. I was silently floored as I realized that God had just used my physical presence in a mighty way. She certainly didn't need me as she stood there watching the ambulance speed away with the love of her life in critical condition. She simply needed open arms, and within mere seconds, God had provided her with them. He knew that she needed divine comfort and I was simply the vessel in which He brought that comfort to her. In the moments leading up to my approach, I had acted on impulse, not giving my actions much thought. Looking back now, I am so very glad that I did not let that woman stand there, broken and alone, in her little corner of our cul-de-sac. I am so thankful that the Lord prompted me and that I responded obediently (because, frankly, I fail at this quite often). I hadn't expected her to fall into my arms the way she did, but when she did, I was completely prepared. I recently read First Corinthians chapter 1, where verses 1-11 are all about how God uses us to comfort each other - "...He is the source of every mercy and the God who comforts us. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort each other. When others are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us." Jill Briscoe, author of the study notes in my Bible, says this: "In my own life I have experienced God's comfort at many times in many ways. I have received his mercy, healing, and help. God did not comfort me only to make me feel better, but so that I can comfort others in their pain and difficulty." As I sat in church that evening, I couldn't help, but think back over what had just taken place. As I worshiped, I prayed for my neighbors and I thanked God for his constant presence in our lives. I found myself smiling from time to time in recognition of his goodness. Toward the end of the service we sang a Chris Tomlin song with a line that says, "You comfort those in need." I stared at the words on the big screen and let them penetrate my soul. He does comfort those in need, always, and he uses us to do it. We are the tangible touch of an invisible God. I haven't seen my neighbor since, so I do not know the current condition of her husband, but I can only hope and pray that she realizes how God provided for her during a time of great need and that she knows he will continue to do so!

Every Day is Mother's Day

2011-05-08T20:34:00.000-07:00

I actually posted this on my more personal family blog this morning, but I just thought I would go ahead and share it here, as well...

This morning I am right where I need and want to be - ushering in the day with my beautiful children by my side! There is nothing that separates this morning from any other, except for the fact that somewhere along the line it was given a fancy title. In reality, every day is "Mother's Day" for me, because every day, I am a mother! Every day, my joy in life is to love and serve my kids to the best of my ability. And yes, I fail to do this with a joyful heart sometimes, in fact, I would venture to say that sometimes I have a down right sour attitude! But the beauty in that, is that even those moments are a necessary part of motherhood. On the "bad days," I can rest assured that forgiveness is right around the corner for me. When I have said or done the wrong thing, as guilty as I may feel, I know that I can use it as an opportunity to teach my kids about forgiveness. I'm not afraid to apologize to my kids and tell them where I went wrong because I know that in return they are learning to recognize their own mistakes and how to say they are sorry. There is a lot of "up and down" that comes with being a mom, but all of it comes together, every single up and every single down, to form the greatest gift any woman could ever hope to receive here on earth. So on this day, I rose early, just like every other... stumbled into the kitchen to start the coffee pot and had not even swept the sleep from my eyes before my children began to wake up. I smiled because I knew that my morning hugs were on their way! It is Mother's Day and I am going to spend my day being a mother! Sure, I will gladly accept the flowers, chocolates, adorable painted picture frames, plants, and cards that so lovingly say, "we appreciate you," after all, it's not every day that my family gets to shower me with gifts! But really it's me who should be thanking them... for it is their patience and unconditional love that keeps me going every day!

Running late, or not.

2011-04-09T10:59:00.000-07:00

The other day I almost forgot to take my daughter to preschool. She had been on an extended spring break (I have no idea why, but it was three weeks long) and I guess I was out of routine. My son was at school and as we awaited his arrival home on bus, I suddenly realized that we were fifteen minutes out from the time we would need to leave to get Aly to school on time. I looked over at her. She sat, very relaxed, in our black leather recliner with the computer on her lap, completely engrossed in a Toy Story game. She was still in her pajamas and I had not even fed her lunch yet! Just then, Landon's bus pulled up. I shot out the front door in my t-shirt (never mind the fact that it was 39 degrees and raining outside) and returned a moment later with my proud kindergartner. "Aly! Hurry! Go upstairs and get dressed, we have to take you to school!" I rushed her off the website and chased her upstairs, where I threw some clothes her way in response to a sassy, "I don't know what to wear" comment (this coming from a four year old girl who changes her clothes independently five times a day). Then I flew dangerously back down our under-construction stair case and disappeared into the kitchen to whip up some quick on-the-go lunches. If you are a mom, you so know what I'm talking about! Before I knew it, the three of us were buckled in, zooming out of the neighborhood in plenty of time. The kids were eating, Aly was presentable, and we had even remembered to grab her backpack off the hook where it resided the entire length of the break. I am so good. Or so I thought until I missed a turn and ended up going a few miles out of the way. Auto Pilot had kicked in and I guess somehow I temporarily forgot where I was going. (By the way, I know I'm not the only one who does that!). I got the Subaru back on track and pulled up to the school with impeccable timing. Goodness restored!

Motherhood is chock full of these temporary brain lapses and hectic, little moments to make up for it. Sometimes it turns out perfectly fine and we give ourselves a pat on the back, like my story above. Other times things may not gel together quite so well and we have to do a bit of damage control. Either way, a mother has to be okay with it. She has no choice because these moments are inevitable, and often, no matter how much we like to think we are in control of a situation, we aren't. If I had gotten stopped by a train (which happens quite frequently in my town) after missing that turn, I would not have pulled up to Aly's school on time. It may not seem like an issue to be a few minutes late dropping a child off at preschool, but there are circumstances in our situation that keep me from being able to walk her to class (long story having to do with my son's development), so her teachers allow me to pull up with the buses and they walk her in for me with the kids who ride the bus. If I am late, I miss that opportunity and then I have to call them when I get there and ya-da, ya-da, ya-da (you get the point!). That has happened more than a few times and it's really not a big deal, although, I much prefer to be on time. If I am running late, it doesn't mean that I should risk an accident or a traffic ticket by speeding. It also doesn't mean that I need to panic and bring anxiety induced chest pains upon myself (yes, I do do that in some situations). It simply means that I need to take a deep breath and deal with the situation. Never under-estimate the power of a deep breath! I take them all day long and they really help me get through those moments where my reaction to a situation is crucial.

Yes, motherhood can produce some fairly turbulent experiences. Experiences where you really have to use your brain (ha!) and calculate each step you take. But, it can be quite fun, if you let it. It's all about your attitude and how you choose to view a situation. In the big picture, most of what we fret about has little to no significance, right? Right.

Why my brain is like my cell phone battery

2011-04-05T16:34:00.000-07:00

When I became the proud owner of a cellular phone for the first time (about nine years ago), my resourceful and commonsensical husband was quick to educate me on proper charging techniques, in order to sustain the life of my battery. One thing he said was never plug it in before it's completely dead. This is not what they tell you when you receive the phone. You are instructed to charge it all the way as soon as you get it, right? And that's what most people do, I am sure. My husband, however, swears that this is not good for it. He says it comes with a semi-charged battery and the best thing to do is to let it die first and then give it a full charge from it's death. He says that this will better enable the battery to hold a charge in the long run. Apparently, plugging it in when it is partially charged will initially "train it" to only hold so much of a charge. Who knew?! At first I thought he was crazy, I mean, why would you not do what you were instructed to do by the company who made the battery? (My husband says they want you to have to purchase a new battery, and he's probably right). I guess he is on to something, seeing as how his cell phone batteries always last an amazingly long time.

The second part of my education on cell phone battery etiquette is really what this post is about (that first part was strictly informational!). Along with letting it die all the way before you plug it in, comes not talking on it while it's charging and not unplugging it before the charge is complete. These two things are very hard to avoid, at least for me. I talk on my phone while it is charging all the time - I think most people do. You are having a conversation and your phone starts to die, so you plug it in and finish your conversation. As for unplugging it before it has a full charge, I am guilty of that, on occasion, as well. Often my phone is attached to an outlet when I need to leave the house, so not wanting to go anywhere without the essentials, of course, I unplug it and take it with me. I may or may not plug it back in once I get in the car, either way - not good for the battery. So, what exactly is my point, you ask? Here it is:

I have come to realize that my brain is like my cell phone battery (and anything else that operates on a rechargeable battery, like a lap top).

It simply cannot perform at optimal potential when it undergoes constant interruption in the middle of a task. The capacity for holding a full charge dwindles as the battery becomes accustomed to the un-timely disconnections and the constant plugging in and unplugging. Over time, it will stop functioning all together! As a mother of two small children, there is little in my day that goes uninterrupted. While this applies to all motherly duties (laundry, cooking, etc.), it is my thought life, in particular, that suffers at chronic levels. Whether contemplating silently in my own intellect, writing my ruminations down, or actually conversing with another human being, chances are, every single thought wave I send out will be abruptly severed before it is complete. It will be cut short either by some distant and curious noise - perhaps an alarming shriek or a startling crash echoing down the hall - or, by a more direct beckoning of my attention (I'll spare you the details of what that looks and sounds like, kids can be brutal in their attempts to get mom's acknowledgment!). Either way, whatever form the distraction comes, it is certain to arrive. And I have come to believe it is this perpetual state of interference with my thought processing, that has caused my brain to resemble an abused cell phone battery, slowly loosing it's ability to hold a charge as it should. Only, the affects on my brain are that I no longer maintain the ability to finish my thoughts even when I am blessed with the rare luxury to do so. These days, kids present or not, I often pause mid-conversation to scramble for the right word (basic as it may be!). Even worse, I might suddenly forget what I was talking about right in the middle of a sentence for no apparent reason. This wasn't always the case for me. Something has imposed upon my mental health, and I am certain that it is the culmination of six solid years of abruptly shifting thought patterns, so much so that I now do it unintentionally. On one hand, it is a talent to be able to shift gears in a moments notice. Mothers have to be flexible and it is generally seen as a gift we posses. We are multi-taskers and professional modifiers. We "process" from sun up to sun down, and a little in between. Our households wouldn't function properly if we didn't, and so we pride ourselves on the skill. On the other hand, this insane amount of redirecting does not come without a drawback, as I am clearly experiencing. It brings with it sheer exhaustion and invades on our capacity for adult conversation. Fortunately, unlike my cell phone battery, there is hope for my brain to regain what it has lost during these few, short years while my children are small!

By the way, my thyroid is fine

2011-03-25T12:13:00.000-07:00

There is a problem in the medical field that I want to address, and the only way I can think to do that is to share my own story. Maybe someone, somewhere, will read this and benefit from it.

Several months ago I visited the doctor for my yearly "Well Woman's Exam." I told the doctor that I had been experiencing fatigue, so she ordered a a simple blood draw to "test my thyroid." The next morning a nurse called me, quickly revealed that I had an apparent thyroid problem and asked where I wanted my prescription called in to. The conversation was extremely nonchalant, as they clearly see this sort of thing all the time. In fact, she even told me that it was very common. When I asked if I could go off of the medication once my levels were normal again, she said, very casually, "oh no, once you go on thyroid medication, you are typically on it for life." It concerned me that she was so matter of fact about the whole thing. She had just dropped a bomb on me that, at age twenty-nine, I was going to have to go on a lifelong medication, yet it was as easy as, "your blood test came back high, where can we order your drugs?" Upon trying to pick her brain to attain a deeper understanding of my problem and what the medicine would do specifically, her answers were very blunt and a bit obscure. I hung up the phone feeling very confused. I realize I could have called back and asked to speak with the doctor herself, instead I opted for doing some internet research. (I did call back once to find out the exact name of the test I had and the exact numbers that it revealed, since that wasn't even told to me). After surfing around the net, asking friends, considering many things, and praying for wisdom, I was extremely hesitant to jump on the medication just like that. My numbers weren't all that high and I wondered if there was any real necessity to commit to a medication. Several people told me to be careful and to not mess around, as the thyroid is very important, which is completely true. So, I decided to get a second opinion and promptly made an appointment with a naturopathic doctor in town. If I did, in fact, need the medication, then I wanted to pick up the prescription as soon as possible, but I didn't want to start taking it until I understood what I was dealing with. I just figured it couldn't hurt to get a different take on the whole thing. Well, the naturopath certainly did have a different take on it and she explained that to me right away in great detail. Apparently, the test that is most commonly used to test the thyroid, does not actually test the hormones that your thyroid is secreting. Let me repeat that, the test that doctors use to find out if you have a thyroid problem, does not test your actual thyroid. Most doctors who suspect a thyroid issue, immediately order a Thyroid-Stimulating Hormone, or THS, test. Once the results come in, an assumption is made about what the thyroid is doing based on the THS level. I am not going to go into all the biological details right now about what exactly THS is and what it does (because I am not a doctor and I know I will fudge the explanation), but in a nutshell it is a hormone secreted by the pituitary gland and it stimulates the thyroid into doing what it needs to do. So, theoretically, depending on what the thyroid is doing, your THS will be high or low in an attempt to get the thyroid back on track (read that part again, if you need to, because I want you to understand what I just said). Hence, doctors are comfortable making an assumption about the thyroid and putting patients on medication based on the results of that single test. It actually makes total sense until you find out that there are a other factors that can affect THS levels, meaning that a high or low result doesn't necessarily mean your thyroid is out of whack. Because of that, you really need to have your T3 and T4 hormones checked (these are the actual thyroid hormones). This is the only way to receive an accurate picture of what the thyroid itself is secreting. If you get a normal THS result, than there is no need to have the T3 and T4 checked, because, in that case, it is okay to assume that your thyroid is fine. However, if your THS comes back abnormal, the next logical step is to have a T3 and T4 test, right? (Not immediately hit the pharmacy up for drugs!). Only then will you will know for sure if your high or low THS result was, in fact, due to a thyroid problem, or if you are like me and something else caused it to be off. You see, when I went to the naturopathic doctor, the first thing she did was order the T3 and T4 blood test, because she refused to put me on thyroid medication without actually testing my thyroid. When I went in to get my test results, I was shocked. My thyroid hormone levels were completely normal. She held the results in her hand and said, "you do not have a thyroid problem, your thyroid is working fine," as she showed me the paper work. I would not have known this without the T3 and T4 test. She went on to explain that being on unnecessary thyroid medication can lead to a heart attack. (Yes, that's what I said, a heart attack!). I was just moments away from going on a medication that I did not need to be on that could have caused me to have a heart attack. If I had not gone with my gut and decided to get a second opinion, I would be taking thyroid medication right now without even having a thyroid problem. Unbelievable. So, why do I have high levels of Thyroid Stimulating Hormone if my thyroid is doing what it should be doing? In my case, it is because I also have high levels of Cortisol, and Cortisol binds to the thyroid. When that happens, your pituitary gland is fooled into thinking that your thyroid is not secreting enough hormone and it starts dumping out stimulant to get it going, when the problem is actually the Cortisol, not the thyroid. Why do I have so much Cortisol in my body? Well, here's the kicker: Cortisol is released by the adrenal glands in response to stress! We need it to live, so when we are under a lot of stress the adrenals panic and start producing loads of Cortisol, which binds to things in our body, like the thyroid gland. When she explained this to me, I experienced a gargantuan "a-ha moment!" Most people have a decent amount of stress in their lives. Normally, stress goes up and down depending on situations (a death in the family, financial trouble, workplace drama, etc.), so the Cortisol in your system will go up and down as stressful situations come and go in your life. But what about those of us whose "stressful situations" are ongoing? What about people who pretty much go through life just tolerating stress that never really goes away? In those cases, the body is going to have excess cortisol hanging around, binding to things, causing hormones to get out of whack, misleading doctors to believe that the person has problems that they don't actually have (which means they put them on medication that they don't actually need to be on). If you know me personally then you know that, statistically, I belong to a group of people who live with tremendous amounts of stress in their lives. Mothers of young children deal with a lot of stress, yes, but studies have proven (although, I didn't need a study to tell me this) that mother's of children with special needs (especially Autism, like my son has, along with a few other challenges) experience far more stress than your average mother. I am not saying this to down play what I know every other mom out there goes through (parenting my typically developing child can create a lot of anxiety, too!). And I am not saying this to whine, draw attention to myself, or imply that my situation is a bad thing. It's just a fact. I love my life, but the truth is, it is intense and can be very draining on many levels. Some of it is the same day-to-day "stuff" that all women deal with, and some of it is the extra "stuff" I have to manage due to the unique situation I am in. Either way, the bottom line is that if I can learn to better manage the stress in my life, the Cortisol level in my body will drop (stop binding to my thyroid) and as a result my pituitary gland should stop dumping excess levels of stimulant into my blood. No medication necessary... well, at least not thyroid medication anyway!

Having said all of that, I cannot help, but ask this question: If doctors are regularly putting people on thyroid medication after simply receiving results of a THS test without doing any further testing of the actual thyroid hormones, than how many people are on thyroid medication who don't need to be? It's kind of scary, actually, after learning that this very thing poses potential heart failure. I realize that I am rambling here, and I also realize that it is common for the thyroid gland to not perform optimally and that many people really do need to be on medication for that. Hypo-thyroidism and Hyper-thyroidism (and Thyroid cancer) are real health problems that do need to be taken seriously. The problem is that doctors are prematurely diagnosing people and not taking the necessary steps for identifying the problem. I am so glad that I made the decision to get a second opinion and not begin a drug (a long term drug, no less!) based on a mere assumption.

Other questions come to mind, too, when I think about this. Like, if someone has been the victim of a misdiagnosis and has been taking thyroid medication because they innocently (and rightly so) trusted their medical doctor, how has this medication affected their thyroid's performance? If their thyroid was working normally before the medication, what is it doing now? And if they were to get the T3 and T4 test now, would it even be accurate? If it came back normal, they would most likely remain on the medication, thinking that it was only normal because of the medication, right? These are all questions that I obviously can't answer because I am not a doctor. I only know what I am told by my doctors, which in my case, were two very different things. I should say, before I close, that in no way am I trying to dismiss the medical field. I continue to be a patient at my general practitioner's office, as well as at the naturopath's office, and I appreciate both fields. Also, it is modern day medicine and technology that rescued my son after his life threatening beginning, so I am very grateful to the medical doctors who saved his life, and to the ones who have restored his health many times since. There is definitely a place in this world for both, but if I can better understand what is really happening to my body and avoid the use of unnecessary (and in some cases, dangerous) drugs by getting a second opinion, than that is what I am going to do. And you should too, if you have any reserves about a hasty diagnosis or script. It may be something as simple as requesting further testing, it doesn't necessarily mean that you have to go to a different doctor.

Oh, and on a side note, my fatigue (and a few other ambiguous symptoms disguised as possible thyroid problems) were simply due to being anemic. They improved as soon as I started taking an iron supplement (and came back when I slacked on taking my pill!). I wonder why the first doctor didn't test me for anemia based on my symptoms? I guess it just didn't occur to her at the time, since she suspected the culprit was my thyroid (in her defense, at least my thyroid is involved). I still have a few issues that I am dealing with, though I am not regularly seeing the naturopath since they are not life threatening (it can get expensive if your insurance won't cover it, which is a whole other issue that heats up my blood!), but she helped me resolve some things without the use of pharmaceutical drugs. As for the stress management, well, that is something I have to figure out on my own.

Here's to better health!

More like Anna

2010-12-23T11:02:00.000-08:00

As I stumbled down the staircase in the dark this morning, I thought about how I couldn't let the exhaustion take over and ruin my day. It would be easy to cave and use the "rough night" excuse to be grumpy and neglect my duties. I knew immediately that if I did not take a few minutes to ask the Lord to give me strength, I would probably be a messy combination of anger and impatience all day. After pleading with him to bless the day that my children and I were about to spend together, I suddenly had a craving for encouragement and went strait to the best place for it: God's word.

For some reason, I decided to read The Christmas Story. At first the prompting felt awkward to me and I questioned it. I needed a nugget that would penetrate my heart so deeply that I had no choice but to have a good attitude after the encounter. What could reading about Jesus' birth for the umpteenth time possibly do for me today? Then remembering the sheer wonder of the story, I thought maybe the peacefulness surrounding it might shed some light on my day and bring some calm to what, potentially, could be a disastrous next twelve hours...

So, I read through a brief passage in Luke, just enough to remind myself about the manger, the angels, and the shepherds. As much as I love the story, I was really hoping to find something hidden within it that I hadn't ever noticed before. Scrolling down a little farther I came across the story of a woman named Anna. Aha! I knew the Lord had something for me today... who was this Anna and what significance had she in the birth of Christ? I mean, her name made it into the Bible, so she must have done something worth mentioning, right? While Jesus was an infant, his parents took him to the temple for dedication, and while they were there it turns out that Anna was one of the people they crossed paths with. She was a very old prophetess and had lived in the temple many, many years. I was struck when I read this: She never left the Temple, but stayed there day and night, worshiping God with fasting and prayer. Wow. There was my nugget. Seriously? She never left the temple? I don't know how many years Anna lived at the temple, as the word is a little unclear about whether she was eighty-four-years old or had lived at the temple for eighty-four years. But she had lost her husband very young and the passage seems to imply that she came to live at the temple shortly after that. So basically this woman spent nearly her entire life in the house of the Lord in constant communion with him. She had been waiting for Jesus - her savior - her whole life. When she saw him that day in the form of a tiny, beautiful, baby boy, she knew immediately that it was him and began to praise God. Then she proclaimed him to the people of Jerusalem, announcing that the Messiah had come. Anna was among the first to proclaim Jesus' birth to the world, so why do we rarely (or in my case, never) hear about this blessed woman? She was amazing. I pondered her for a few minutes, thought about what her life must have been like, and decided that she is the ultimate example of what our lives should be, in terms of praise and worship. Of course, we can't all live at church and do nothing but sing and pray all day, but if Christ dwells within our hearts, then our hearts are like temples, right? Actually, the bible speaks quite clearly about our bodies being temples (1 Cor.6:19). If you think of it in those terms, essentially we do live in a temple day and night. We are in the presence of the Lord everywhere we go. That should have an incredible impact on the way we think, the things we say, and how often we pray and worship. Actually, it might be better said the other way around... if we make an effort to be in constant fellowship with the Lord throughout our day, then it would surely affect the way we think and the things we say. My mother told me recently that she learned a little trick for having a positive attitude. When something frustrates or upsets you, you find something good to say about the situation instead of focusing on what it is that bothers you. For example, instead of complaining about the night being cut short, you would say, "Lord, thank you so much for blessing me with those four precious hours of sleep." Anna was in constant fellowship with God, this was how she lived her life! I would imagine that her life was very simple, peaceful, and without much stress. While it's not very realistic for me to expect to avoid conflict and pressure in my day-to-day life, I can make an effort to communicate with God as I muck my way through it. Anna made me realize that and I hope that as I walk away from this computer today, I won't soon forget what I learned from her.

Stability

2010-12-10T20:58:00.000-08:00

I am so grateful that I have a God who gets me. So often I don't even get myself and I am uncomfortable in my own skin, but even then, there is one who understands - does the phrase "even there your hand will guide me" ring a bell? It comes from Psalm 139:10 - and I'd be completely lost if it were not for that stability. He is the one stable component in my life when everything else is shaky and potentially collapsible. If you know me, you know that my life involves heavy amounts of stress. It's the kind of stress that generally when people are faced with they end up on medication and/or in therapy. I'm not saying those are bad things, but thus far I have been able to run to the Lord's arms and regain some lost footing. It's possible for the Lord to lead me to a more tangible form of help one day, like therapy or a support group for Autism parents, and if those things are a part of my future then so be it. I am all for improvement and anything that makes this load a little lighter. As I write this, I am reminded that our church has been in a series of studies entitled "Touchable Church, Touchable Jesus" for quite some time now. It has been a blessing to learn about the many ways in which God is, in fact, touchable. He makes himself touchable through us, his children. It is God's presence in the hearts of those around me that have made my most exasperating moments in life bearable. I am saddened when I hear about mothers in similar situations as mine "loose it" and end up doing something devastating that they will regret for the rest of their lives, but I can identify with them in an almost surreal way. My life resembles theirs, but there is a drastic difference, and that is the fact that I have accepted the heavenly hand of the father who has reached down to pull me out of the murky waters just before the last hair on my head disappears below the surface. The love I have for my children far out weighs the love I have even for myself; They are and always will be the most precious earthly gift that the Lord has ever given me, but in the dark shadows of chaos and frustration your vision can easily become clouded and that can get scary. Just to be clear, my children have never been in any real danger. But I have been in danger... in spiritual danger. I have been on the front lines of the battlefield and that is not a fun place to be. The constant worrying, the immense amounts of guilt, the huge responsibility... it gets incredibly heavy after a while and you become weak under all that "stuff." It even begins to take a toll on your physical health, as I am beginning to experience. A soldier cannot go to battle without proper training, and that is where the word of God plays a part in all of this. The other day I read these words:

"Praise be to the Lord my Rock,

who trains my hands for war,

my fingers for battle.

He is my loving God and my fortress,

my stronghold and my deliverer,

my shield, in whom I take refuge..."
Psalm 144:1&2

Those words touched me because they ring so true in my circumstances. I have been prepared for this life. I don't always feel prepared and I certainly screw up... a lot. But I know I he has prepared me, despite the fact that I don't feel it. And for those days that I am weak and become wounded in battle, I have a safe and stable place to go for healing!

God does not sleep... you know that, right?

2010-11-04T07:36:00.000-07:00

Psalm 121 talks about the fact that God does not sleep. When I read this passage the other day it stood out to me. The exact words in verse 3 say, "...the one who watches over you will not sleep." Those words comfort me! Not because it explains a new concept (it's not like I thought God took naps), but because I immediately thought to myself, "I can rest because I know he won't." I can lay down and sleep knowing that the one watching over me (and my family, my friends, heck - the whole world!) is not going to take his eyes off of the scene for even one second. He's not going to rest his eyes; He's not going to grow weary and take a break. He is simply always there, always vigilant, and always at battle for us. Nothing happens that he does not see and everything that does happen, he allows. That is where trust and faith come in, something I have admitted to struggling with several times. Perhaps that's why the phrase "...the one who watches over you will not sleep" is such a comfort to me. It is absolute truth, and knowing this truth makes it that much easier for me to sleep!

Goals for writing

2010-10-29T16:13:00.000-07:00

These are all jumbled up in my head and I need to write them down. I need to see them written out in a somewhat organized manner, before my eye balls, instead of letting them simply float around inside this scattered brain of mine. So, here they are:

Short term goals:

Keep up with my blogs
Write and submit devotions for possible print
Continue writing articles for Examiner.com
Write worship poetry more often
Continue to meet with my writer's group and keep up with our new accountability clause

Long term goals:

Write a children's picture book
Write an early-chapter book

(I also think it would be really cool to write songs... but I'm not setting that as a goal)

Obstacles:

The biggest obstacle in all of this is myself: I am my own worst enemy. I am not a consistent person at all. And, for that reason, I often start things that I never finish or I have ideas that I never get off the ground. I also give myself too many hobbies/choices, so when I actually do have some time to work on something, it's hard to choose what I'm in the mood for. I really wish writing was more of a priority in my life. If it were, many of these goals would actually be reachable for me.

The second biggest obstacle in my way is simply time: I have two very high maintenance young children, one of whom has sleep issues. So scheduling time into my day for anything besides taking care of my family isn't always easy, unless I want to deprive myself of even less sleep then I already do. And, when I do have some time, it's usually interrupted very often, which makes it difficult to produce any kind of quality writing, because I can't focus.

Dry

2010-10-25T23:06:00.000-07:00

I have been feeling so dry lately. Hmm, lets take a look at some other words that describe that feeling.
Depleted; Drained; Exhausted; Juiceless (ha! There's a good one); Stale; Thirsty (yes!); Uninteresting; Blah; Monotonous; Wearisome...

Okay, I've had enough. This is depressingly motivating!

Free pass to laziness

2010-08-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

I have been so lazy today. This is just ridiculous. At some point I am going to have to get off of my derriere and take responsibility for these wonderful children and this disaster of a house. The kids have been so great today, considering the carelessness their mother has exhibited. I find it particularly easy to fall into this pathetic state when I have the excuse that one of them kept me up all night. In fact, despite my ranting and raving at 4am, I secretly find joy in the fact that I've basically been handed a free pass to do nothing all day. When my sassy daughter questions me or when I look around and see that I have grossly neglected my home, I simply say, "I'm tired. Landon had me up in the night!" and then go back to my own little world of sloth-likeness. It's great...

Fury-dog, Daisy (orange), and Blossom (calico)

Sometime in the late 90's

Okay, realistically, it's terrible and I will carry around some guilt for it, but that will quickly fade away when I suddenly become a cleaning-hooligan and get my whole house picked up in an hour flat! Today, I actually have no choice because I have company coming this evening and there is no way I am going to let them walk into the house as it is. They may be family, but the least I can do is make my house less hazardous for them and cook dinner in a clean kitchen. Alas, my lazy day must come to an end!

What's with the dirty looks?

2010-08-09T18:04:00.000-07:00

On a weekly basis, if not daily, I have the unique privilege to be reminded that I do not know everyone's story, and therefore, I have no right to judge anyone. How is it that I am reminded of this so very often? It is because I get a lot of dirty looks from people as a response to my son's behavior in public. Each time someone shoots me the stink eye because I can't "control" my child's obnoxious yelling or because he reaches out to grab every item on the supermarket shelf as we stroll down the aisle, I have to bite my tongue and ignore it. What I really want to do is scream in their face that yes, I did see the look they gave me and then ask if they have an hour so I can tell them everything I have been through with my son since his birth at fifteen weeks premature. Maybe then they would cut me some slack. I'm not sure. Either way, this experience of being constantly and undeservedly frowned upon by the public eye has taught me a great deal about myself and my responses. You see, Landon appears "normal" to people at first. He looks very much like a typical five-year-old boy wearing glasses, so when they see him throwing things out of the cart or pinching me because he's not getting his way, they assume I have "created a monster" and that he is just another bratty kid. They have no idea that we are constantly battling these behaviors and that we are doing the best that we possibly can to manage his developing social skills. They also have no idea that he is a total sweetheart. Through all of this, I have come to adopt the philosophy that I, too, do not know everyone's story. And so, I have changed dramatically in my own personal presumptions about people. When something initially strikes me as odd, ridiculous, or annoying about someone, I try very hard to cast all judgments aside and practice an awareness of my body language. I'd hate to think that I shot a dirty look at someone who simply is having a really bad day or has been under a lot of stress, etc. It takes a lot of patience to ignore people as they scowl at me and it takes a lot of self control to not do the same thing to others when my own sinful heart wants to make assumptions based on what I see. It's not an easy thing, but it is just one more confirmation that the Lord is using my situation to shape me and make me better!

For another great example of how we, as moms, are frequently misunderstood by those in our community, check out my buddy Leanne's retelling of a recent "in the spotlight" experience she had!

*image from here.

Writing Prompt: The last time I laughed really hard

2010-07-17T11:33:00.000-07:00

The last time I laughed really hard was a bitter-sweet moment. If the truth be told, there was no humor in what I laughed about, but it was the kind of laughter that happens when you need it most. The kind that comes when what you really want to do is cry, but you laugh instead.

As we traveled down the Interstate I could see my mom's joyful face in the rear view mirror, between that of my two children. My grandmother sat to my right and the five of us were making the most of our road trip that had nearly doubled in time due to traffic. It was getting late and although we were anxious to be home, we embraced the company we were in. My grandmother, known for her animated and repetitious story telling, was keeping us quite entertained. She now suffers from Alzheimer's disease, so her repetition has become somewhat exasperating. We dealt with it in the most understanding and loving way we could as she recycled our conversation over and over while sailing through the beautiful North Western scenery. Occasionally, my mother or I would randomly bring up a brand new subject in an effort to change courses, but in the most rhythmic of ways she always managed to circle back around to the very thing we were trying to steer away from. The entire day progressed this way and our trip was almost over, when suddenly my mother and I caught each others gaze in the rear view mirror just as Grandma began to jump onto another one of her cycles. As our eyes met, we took comfort in knowing exactly what the other was thinking, and out of sheer despair we simultaneously let go of any attempt to stifle our thoughts. Although we didn't speak them with words, the laughter that broke out between us told everything. Poor Grandma was clueless as to what we were laughing about, but thankfully she just jumped aboard the chuckle wagon (which, of course, made us laugh harder). Somewhere amidst all of this, she began to tell a story. The story itself is incredibly funny, especially the way my grandma tells it, if you are hearing it for the first or second time. However, this particular one had lost it's humor years ago for my mother and I, who now knew every word of it by heart. But as we laughed Grandma assumed that we were laughing at her story, so we were able to get away without her knowing what we truly laughed about. In a sense, we laughed at her, not with her, like she thought. I know that sounds awful and barbaric, but the more we laughed the more animated she became in her narrative and the whole thing snowballed until the three of us roared uncontrollably as we rolled down the road. This went on for quite a while - a substantial case of "the giggles" - and before I knew it, tears had welled up in my eyes until the path of red tail lights before me became blurred. I quickly sought out a tissue and dabbed at both eyes. I'm not sure at what point it happened, but somewhere between the belly laughing and the tears my heart broke. Thankfully, darkness had now completely swallowed the cab of my mom's Buick and my grandmother was not even aware that I had begun to sob. But my mother knew. I felt a hand on my shoulder come from behind and in my peripheral vision I spotted another hand on my grandmother's shoulder as my mom's voice penetrated the silence. In a tender sigh she spoke the words, "I love you mom." For a few minutes I let myself feel the pain of my grandmother's thieving disease and I cried, mindful of the sounds I was making. Finally, I forced myself to gain composure. I was, in fact, behind the wheel and really had no business being emotional like that when my families lives were in my hands. Things began to make their way "back to normal" and in an effort to excuse our behavior, my mom suggested to me that we had "needed that!" It was true. We did. And, in actuality, it had felt good to laugh that hard about something that hurt so bad. In some ways our laughter represents an acceptance of this terrible thing that is happening to our families matriarch. There is little we can do about it. And so, we laughed until we cried!

The little things in life

2010-05-24T20:33:00.000-07:00

Things I took for granted before having a child with disabilities:

Eating a bowl of cereal with a spoon
Jumping
Pedaling a bike
Saying "thank you" loud and clear enough to be heard and understood.
Putting on shoes
Using the toilet
Dressing and undressing
Sleeping all night long
Making friends
Hugging my sister without having to be asked
Saying "I love you"
Drinking from an open cup
Knowing what is safe and what is not
Climbing a tree
Listening to a story from beginning to end
Catching a ball
Brushing my teeth
Going up and down stairs without falling
Expressing my frustration
Asking for help
Writing my name
Using a computer mouse
Being able to recite my phone number
Only visiting the doctor once a year or when I'm sick
Eating anything I want to
Reading

The Promise

2010-05-24T20:20:00.000-07:00

The rain fell in a heavy sprinkle over Canby, Oregon. As it came down, the bright sun cast rays across the wet sky. Two of nature's most powerful forces came together at just the right moment and God made me a promise. I stood on my front porch and stared at the enormous arch of colors stretched across the horizon directly in front of me. With a chill in the air I shivered, remembering the terror I'd been experiencing for the past two days. Then all at once I felt the anxiety melt away as the rainbow I saw before me practically called out in a voice, "everything is okay." I didn't question it. Not even with a perplexed, "really? Is it really okay?" No. Instead I simply said, "alright God, I get it. Thank you." Then I turned to head back in the house with a smile on my face and less scared then I had been five minutes earlier. The rainbow's colors, size, shape, and presence remain with me. Painted in my mind and pressed upon my heart, a constant reminder that God has promised to take care of my family.

My rainbow...

Since this post was first published, I have come to see that this is a re-occurring rainbow! I cannot help, but find comfort in the fact that God lead us to buy a house where this perfect picture of his love returns time after time to be seen from our own front porch! Of course, it doesn't appear every time it rains and shines simultaneously, the conditions have to be precise for the rainbow to appear. But so far, it seems like God brings it out when I need it the most - when I need to be reminded of his promises!

Muddy toes and a clean heart

2010-05-19T21:30:00.000-07:00

As I returned to the house after a long, warm afternoon in the backyard, I looked down at my muddy feet and thought to myself, "gardening in sandals probably wasn't the smartest thing to do!" But then I had to chuckle as I realized that I felt a sense of pride in my muddy toes. They were great evidence that I had spent serious time in the soil... something I had been longing to do for quite some time. I am not fussy about my feet - although, I would like them to be clean if they are going to be seen in public! At home, though, during the summer I run around barefoot, or in sandals, and enjoy the way the tickling grass or the damp mud from the yard feels as it defaces my polished toes. I also love running the cold water from the hose on them just before I head inside to be sure I don't make a mess - my kids do enough of that already! As silly as this may seem, and possibly even gross to those who take great measures to ensure they have perfectly pedicured tootsies, I can't help it - I love to have muddy toes! So, if you see me this summer in flip flops and my feet look a bit neglected, just remember that I have probably spent a great deal of time outside allowing my feet to breath after a long winter of being cooped up in tennis shoes!

On a side note, I am reminded that just as my filthy feet are evidence that I've been gardening, a clean heart is evidence that I've been in God's word. That can be a little convicting when you really get to thinking about it. What does the current condition of my heart say about the amount of time I've been spending with my bible? **Que thoughts about how to divert from where this is going** Pslam 51:10 says, "Create in me a pure heart, O God..." The only way for him to do that is to spend time in his word, time with him... the evidence can be seen!

Psalm 8

2010-05-08T08:13:00.000-07:00

O Lord, our Lord, the majesty of your name fills the earth!

Your glory is higher than the heavens.

You have taught children and nursing infants to give you praise.

They silence your enemies who were seeking revenge.

When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers -

the moon and the stars you have set in place -

what are mortals that you should think of us?

For you made us only a little lower than the angels,

and you crowned us with glory and honor.

You put us in charge of everything you made,

giving us authority over all things -

the sheep and the cattle

and all the wild animals,

the birds in the sky, and the fish in the sea,

and everything that swims in the ocean currents.

Oh Lord, our Lord, the majesty of your name fills the earth!

Not the perfect fit, just the right one!

2010-04-21T18:12:00.000-07:00

God chose me to be the mother of my children, I believe that wholeheartedly. I also believe that when he chose me for this role, he didn't do it carelessly and without any foresight. Having said that, I still feel completely unfit for this role. Why? Why, if I was purposefully chosen by the creator of the universe to care specifically for my children with their unique needs and personalities, am I having so many doubts about my ability to do so? The answer is because I never was "the perfect fit." God wouldn't have chosen me as their mother if I were someone who could carry the job out effortlessly and without struggle. There would be nothing to harvest if that were the case! He chose me because I needed to be changed; because there is always something to learn (for both me and my children). By making me Mama to these kids, God knew he would have plenty of opportunity to work, and that's what made me the right choice. He would start with my desire to be a mom, and then he would shape me into Landon and Aly's mom. At times, I feel totally misfiled. And I briefly entertain the thought that God got it wrong because there is no way he would expect so much from me. He has blessed me with two extremely high maintenance kids, who in their own ways require constant attention from me. I love them both to the very depths of my soul, but am challenged daily (hourly, even!) and often fail, by my own standards. But God did not file me in the wrong box. Quite the contrary actually! He took extreme care to be sure that I would be challenged in my motherhood and that I would fail at times, because only then would I depend on him and grow. He's not going to let my children grow up with the wrong mom, he loves them too much! And he's certainly not going to allow me to live my life unaffected.

Raising eco-friendly children

2010-04-01T16:29:00.001-07:00

The kids and I have started picking up trash when we take walks around our neighborhood. Generally we live in a pretty clean area, but recently I have noticed a lot of junk lying around. One reason is most likely because it has been super windy lately, but I also think having kids has re-elevated my awareness. Regardless of how the bits of paper or empty chip bags got here, someone, somewhere, neglected to put them into a garbage can at some point. It's fairly obvious that not all of these things landed on the curbside grass by floating in on a heavy breeze. Yesterday we found two plastic dome lid cups that once held blended mochas, no doubt, laying with in five feet of each other. They were stinky and covered in mold from the rotten drips of milk and whipped cream left behind. At first, I was so disgusted that I almost refused to touch them, but my conscience wouldn't allow me to leave them robbing the grass of it's natural beauty, so I let my kids know that this one was a "mommy job" and carefully tossed them into the trash bag we'd brought along. By the time we got home our bag was bulging. The kids are getting really good at spying stuff that doesn't belong on the ground. Plastic water bottles are an easy target, but I am seeing them come to a screeching halt for bottle caps and gum wrappers. We all take turns carrying the bag and picking up the refuse, which makes for a time consuming stroll, but on a sunny day what could be better than teaching my kids to be decent people? While we walk, we talk about educating the people who's trash we are picking up and why it's important to keep the earth clean. Aly insists that we need to find the litter-bugs and teach them to use a garbage can! It's rewarding to see my own children learning about something that, even as a child, I can remember being conscious of. I'm sure my mom instilled this, since I grew up in a really outdoorsy family.

Photo Attribution:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/editor/ / CC BY 2.0

2010 Walk for Autism!

2010-03-31T10:26:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends and Family,

If you haven't already heard via an email from me or by reading my status updates on Face Book, we are walking for Autism next month! You can find out information about the event, read our story and what has inspired us to participate in the walk, by visiting our fund raising page @:

www.firstgiving.com/landonjohnson

Any amount of support is appreciated, even if that means simply praying for this event! The funds that are raised will go directly to the Autism community by providing such things as summer camp scholarships, and respite services to families who's lives have been affected by Autism Spectrum Disorders.

Feel free to register if you are in the area and this is something you would like to do, as well!

THANK YOU!

The Evolution of a twenty-year friendship

2010-03-30T22:40:00.000-07:00

I have to share this! My very dear friend, Cindy, recently posted about our friendship on her journaling blog. What started out as a post about a typical day in Jr.High, turned in to the story of our friendship with pictures all along the way. Cindy, I already told you this, but you truly do mean so much to me. I hope you don't mind me sharing this!

Cindy's Blog

Sometimes inspiration comes from people

2010-03-11T22:28:00.000-08:00

I want to thank a new friend of mine for inspiring me to pursue my writing dreams and think of myself as more then just a Stay-at-Home Mom who likes to blog. I met Leanne through MOPS and it wasn't until recently that I discovered the role she would play in my world. You see, Leanne is also a writer mama, but she is a writer mama who realized that her dreams could become her reality long before I did. She was the catalyst in a small writer's group that has been gathering monthly for a while now at a local diner. I joined the group shortly after they emerged and it was at my first meeting that Leanne said the words I suppose I had subconsciously been waiting for. We were discussing the moniker "Stay-at-Home Mom" and how when you are one, there's always a slight undertone in your voice when answering the question, "so, what do you do?" Leanne spoke up and said that she has finally just started telling people she is a writer. After all, she was, wasn't she? I had to agree. Do you have to be an acclaimed columnist in some fab magazine or a published novelist to be deemed a "writer"? Do you have to have a Journalism degree and bring in a regular income for your work? Who decides these things? If you write, you are a writer, right? It made so much sense to me, and it was at that moment that I decided I was going to take my writing seriously. I don't mean in the sense that I was going to walk out of the diner and head strait back to school, or that I was going to put any prospects of a writing career ahead of my current God given roll as a Stay-at-Home Mom, but I was going to see the writing I was already doing in a different light. It mattered. I didn't know that until Leanne revealed it to me. Up to that point, I didn't put any significance on a single word I composed. This is probably why I have no closet riddled with notebooks full of my college essays and creative writing exercises - I didn't keep them! I didn't think they mattered. They didn't make me a writer, or so I used to think. Shortly after my revelation, I very spontaneously applied for a freelance writing job with the informational resource, Examiner.com. I didn't know much about the company, and even less about freelancing (I still don't!), but I knew I could do what they were asking. They brought me on board as Portland Stay-at-Home Moms Examiner and I began to learn what it was like to write about something besides my emotions for once. Articles were a whole different kind of writing style than I was used to, but I quickly fell into my niche with the website and I am enjoying it. My column is simple and I still have a lot to learn, but I need simple in this season of my life (I couldn't do it otherwise). Leanne, and the other two incredible women I meet with the last Sunday of every month, have inspired me in ways they are not even aware of. I came to them as a very inexperienced writer, probably the least skilled of the group, and I am learning so much about the world of prose and poetry from them. But I am learning even more about myself - who I am as an author, a woman, a mother, a wife, and a friend. I have been encouraged to share my work, not just the amateur articles or the blog ramblings, but the essays and poems, too. I have to admit that it felt good to have a recent essay of mine printed in the latest Lake Grove MOPS newsletter, and to have an intimate poem I wrote to my son be regarded as encouraging enough to go on a bookmark for NICU moms. These things are small on the entire scale of authorship, but I would have never submitted the essay or shared the poem, if not for the new friend who believes in herself and takes her own writing seriously enough to say, "I'm a writer." Leanne has also been incredibly supportive of the stint I am undertaking with Examiner.com and has promoted me on several occasions, including this one. How cool is she? I believe God brings people into our lives for good reasons. Everyone has a different role to play and for varying measures of time, but all are significant. I hope that in all of this taking, I can give something back!

Image: www.pdphoto.org (Beautiful, isn't it? Makes me want to go to Ireland!)

It's Just What Moms Do

2010-03-06T17:22:00.000-08:00

A piece I wrote was recently printed in the March newsletter, "In The Loop" that my MOPS group puts out each month. Here's a link to it on our MOPS blog, if you care to have a look:

It's Just What Moms Do - By Veronica Johnson

Renaissance at it’s best

2010-03-06T09:53:00.000-08:00

The sun breaks through the clouds like the yoke of a freshly cracked egg. Bright and smiling, he shouts, “here I am!” The crust of earth welcomes the greeting; baking in the warmth, it is thankful for his presence.

Spring’s long slumber is coming to an end, as if the alarm clock is ticking… just moments away from sounding off. Life everywhere waits, as barren trees can scarcely contain new life. Impatient, tiny green leaves begin to grow on the tips of every branch. Come, spring, come!

New opportunity is upon us. Adventure awaits along the trails and river banks, anxious for action. The air is crisp, and fresh, and longs to become the breath of exploring children.

It is rare to find anticipation, like that which comes with the changing seasons.

Veronica Johnson 3/6/10

Today's quote from Creativity Portal NewZine

2010-03-03T10:46:00.000-08:00

I really love this:

“Let it be imperfect, messy, absurd, and insignificant. At the very beginning, the creative process requires lowered expectations, spiked with fun, in very tiny increments of time, in fractions of steps.” — Jill Badonsky (Spills the Imp)

http://www.creativity-portal.com/

Thirteen minute ramble

2010-02-25T06:53:00.000-08:00

My computer is dying and has thirteen minutes of battery life left. I can't plug it in because we are leaving home this morning for a three-day adventure and the computer is coming with us. The time is 6:39 am and I was forced out of bed a half hour ago, the usual way - by an early bird child and a grieving cat who has been waking up early ever since he lost his brother four days ago.

As I sit here, watching Alice in Wonderland - er, rather listening to it while vague blurbs of color pass through my peripheral vision, I think about the fact that this movie has become such a favorite in my house. Especially for my five year-old-son. And I remember how much my sister and I loved this movie when we were growing up. To this day we still sing the "A-E-I-O-U" song (by the caterpillar) to each other and laugh. Alice in Wonderland is a wonderful movie. Despite claims by modern day society that whomever created the film was on drugs when they wrote the script, it is sheer entertainment.

I have three minutes left to ramble now. Half of the last ten were spent saying good morning to my newly awaken daughter and discussing how fun the day is going to be. She is extremely excited about our trip and has been talking about going to visit her cousins all week, since we broke the news. I suppose my husband and I are equally excited.

One minute to sudden death, so I will close to give my self enough time to post... TTFN!

I freed my mind and it feels so good

2010-02-18T21:23:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, I had a melt down. This was not just any ordinary burnt-out-stay-at-home-mom type of melt down, this was a fill blown whine-cry-and-complain-for hours-on-end-to-my-poor-husband type of melt down (I must say he handled it well, looking back). It's embarrassing to admit this, but I need to confess it. It didn't last just that one night, either. It lasted a couple of weeks... I would be good for a few days, but then suddenly one night I would find myself upset again. The moment I realized I was in a downward spiral was when my husband finally said to me, "babe, you've been like this for two weeks! What is going on with you?" At that point I had no choice, but to ask myself the same question. The answer I came up with had many parts, but it all boiled down to one basic thing - I had locked myself up in chains and I needed desperately to be freed. These chains were the expectations I had put on myself, my children, my spouse, even God. I talked to a few people, started re-reading my copy of The Power of a Praying Woman (a book I had initially started over a year ago and never finished), took a good, hard look at myself, took a good, hard look at my children and their needs. Then I began to prioritize. I realized that I had foolishly grouped all of my "want to do's" and "need to do's" into a common level of importance. As if crocheting was just as important as feeding my children... um, I'm pretty sure that's as far from the truth as it could possibly be! As a result, I was becoming bound up inside. Frantic and angry if I didn't get everything done that I had wanted to do in one day. My unrealistic expectations of myself had slowly eaten away at me until they spilled over into every other area of my life, so that I eventually ended up having unrealistic expectations of the world around me and everything in it. I decided right away that I would have to shove a few things to a back burner - if I get to them fine, if not, oh well. Since I allowed myself this freedom, I have been a much happier person. There is no more battle! I am still making time for the things I want to do, but they are no longer an absolute, and the fact that I don't have to do them anymore, makes them that much more enjoyable when I do!

Things I am currently doing when the children are either in bed or outside in the back yard:

Reading one of three books: The Bible, Writer Mama, or The Power of a Praying Woman
Writing one of two ways: personal blogging or freelancing
Crocheting (baby blankets, animals, or whatever I feel like)
Emailing important and not so important things
Reading friends blogs or whatever interesting thing I find on the net

A quote for writing moms

2010-02-18T20:28:00.000-08:00

"For both my jobs, as a mom and as a writer, I utilize creativity, time management, organizational skills, and patience. You don't need a M.F.A. from a fancy college to be a writer - if you're a mom, you already have most of the skills you need." - Tiffany Talbott
(found in the book Writer Mama: How to Raise a Writing Career Alongside Your Kids)

Lesson #5: Life is Easier When You Accept Your Child for Who He Is

2010-02-16T10:37:00.000-08:00

I was recently relieved when I read this essay online. I balled as I read because it spoke strait to my heart. I am currently dealing with acceptance. It is a hard thing to accept that your child was literally created to be different. That your family is different, as a result. I am tired of trying to make my life look like every other mom's out there. I have a child with disabilities - my life is not going to look like theirs, no matter how hard I might want it to. I actually am not sure if I am supposed to be posting this essay here, but it is just too good to not share. It was written by a mom with a child (now a man) who is Autistic and she hits the nail right on the head for me, at this point in my life. Thank you, Ann, whoever you are!

Lesson #5: Life is Easier When You Accept Your Child for Who He Is (By: Ann)

My life could have been much easier if I had learned earlier how my own expectations for my child were interfering with my understanding of him. I remember going to birthday parties of Eric’s preschool classmates and seeing him at those parties, off playing by himself, ignoring the other kids, covering his ears when they sang Happy Birthday. It really hurt to see him looking so different from his peers. At some point later, maybe when I was better able to accept his diagnosis, I realized that I was trying to fit Eric into a world that resembled my own world growing up, that was based on my own ideas of what was important in life. I learned that when Eric is obviously having a difficult time in a situation, that I should try to look at it from his perspective. Is this making Eric happy? Is this something he enjoys doing? Is this too difficult for him? And the most important question, do I want him to do this because it is important to me or to him? I spent a lot of time grieving over the years for what I thought were losses in Eric’s life when in fact he was very happy and didn't seem to miss what I thought he was missing. I began to stop feeling sad about how his life was different than what I expected and be happy that Eric is happy, that he has a full life, and that he is loved by his family.

I recently discovered that the understanding of “who your child is” can change. I have always prided myself on knowing a lot about autism, and being the “expert” about my child. But I learned recently, that no matter how much you think you know your child, know his or her autism and how it affects him, they can and probably will surprise you. My son has always been socially withdrawn, always preferred to be alone, and I thought he would always be that way. And now, he is surprising me every day with things he does and interests he has that don’t fit the picture I've had in my mind of him all these years. Be careful not to close any doors because you think your child won’t go there. The future is a mystery and we can’t possibly predict what it will be like for our children because they will change and the world will change.
I think it’s an ongoing struggle for parents, this issue of “accepting them for who they are”. I've had a recent experience that got me thinking about this issue all over again. I was at Orientation at my son’s college and I was in the Student Union waiting for one of the parent meetings to begin. I was looking over the railing to the lobby area below and I saw my son with a group of other incoming freshmen waiting to go on a tour of campus. Eric was standing with the group, actually sort of on the fringes of the group, pacing and talking to himself quietly. I immediately thought to myself, he should probably not be doing that! They will think he is different!
The next day of Orientation something wonderful happened. He had spent his first night on campus, in a dorm room, and I was nervous about how it went. The school had planned a number of social activities for the freshmen during the evening but I didn't know if Eric was going to go to any of them or what exactly he was going to do. My husband and I met Eric at his dorm room in the morning to go to breakfast together. When we entered his room, Eric was grinning from ear to ear. I immediately knew something was up and I asked him, “What is it Eric, what happened?” He pointed to a plastic water bottle with the school logo on it sitting on his dresser and said, “See that water bottle? I won it!” I asked, “How did you win it?” He said, “Best Male Dancer!” I was floored and I said, “Eric, I didn't even know you could dance” and he said, “I didn't either. I've never danced before in my life!”
I will never know what actually happened that evening. My guess is that he got up and danced really enthusiastically, the students there recognized that he was trying very hard and they rewarded him and made him feel special. What a gift! At that point I knew that for the most part he would be accepted there and that people will be kind to him. Again, I was reminded that I needed to accept him for who he is, not who I think he should be.

29

2010-02-09T09:04:00.000-08:00

In eighteen days I will be twenty-nine years old. 29! It's suddenly become an important number to me. This is the last year I can say I'm "in my twenties." This doesn't really bring about anything different for my life, but, none the less, I'm not sure how much I appreciate it. I remember being nineteen, but I don't remember ever turning twenty. It's like it never happened, yet I somehow ended up here. An entire decade, gone... like waking up from a dream, remembering it for a moment and then moving on. It slowly fades out of your brain as you go on about your day. I guess I can't honestly say I have forgotten an entire decade, since it did hold many good things for me. So many good things that I wouldn't even know how to begin telling about them. Within the boundaries of the past ten years I gained my entire life, as it is today. I became a wife, then a mother, and everything else in between. It wasn't all merriment, as I did experience a few very trying times while "in my twenties", but I would definitely say, for the good and the bad, the person I am took root during those years. And, I suppose, the next decade will be spent being that person and hopefully making her even better.

A mother's indiscretion

2010-02-09T00:39:00.000-08:00

My five-year-old son wears orthotics (braces) on his feet. He doesn't have to wear them all day, or even every day, so I usually just put them on him when we go out and let him be without them at home. Today was a long day. He and I went shopping while his little sister was in preschool, then in the afternoon it was his turn to go to school. As a result, he ended up wearing his braces from about 8:30am to 4:30pm, which is longer then what he is used to.

When the bus pulled up to drop him off this afternoon, I could hear him crying as soon as the doors opened. The driver looked at me and said he wasn't happy today. I was concerned. He has been riding the bus for a year and a half and has never come home upset. I climbed onto the bus and spotted him, half way to the back, the last child on the bus. He sat in his seat sobbing uncontrollably. His sobs grew stronger as he watched me make my way toward him and I couldn't get his seat belt unbuckled fast enough. I took him into my arms and held him tight, but the sobbing continued. I turned to the driver and asked her how long he had been crying. Apparently he had started right after she pulled out of the school (that would have been almost an hour earlier!). Normally Landon loves riding the bus, which is why I don't mind too much that his route takes so long. The bus driver said that she had no idea what triggered it, as she couldn't understand what he was saying. As I descended the steps and started to carry my sad boy towards the house, it struck me! Earlier that day when I had put him on the bus to go to school, he had said "ouch" and pointed at his foot. He didn't seem that uncomfortable, so I apathetically checked out his shoe and brushed it off. Before the driver closed the doors, I turned to her and mentioned his orhotics, she then revealed that she thought she heard him say ouch a couple of times. Dang it... mom screwed up, again. Once inside the house it became clear that it was, in fact, his foot that was hurting him. The same one he had mentioned previously. He began grabbing at his feet saying "shoes" and cried until everything was removed, including the socks. It took a while to calm him and he was so tired from the hour of crying that he could barely keep his eyes open. I cuddled with him on the couch for a while, silently kicking myself for having let him go to school and run around for three hours in footwear that was causing him pain. I doubted that he said anything to his teachers because once in a classroom environment he becomes so preoccupied with the fun at hand that he ignores any cues from his body. It wasn't until he boarded the bus and sat still that he realized how much his foot ached and just wanted someone to take off his shoes, but couldn't say it or do it himself.

Part of me feels like the bus driver should have taken more concern. How could you just sit there and listen to him send himself into hysterics for nearly an hour? What could she have done differently? That's what I keep asking myself... what would I have done in her shoes? I'm not sure that there was anything that she (a new driver and stranger) could have done. She would not have known to remove his shoes...

So, I sit here now. Mad (at myself, not the driver) I should have at least gone back and slipped his regular shoes into his back pack before he left this morning and then called to mention the first "ouch" to his teachers. Why do I think of these things after the damage is done? Tonight he awoke three hours after he went to bed, kicking, crying, and complaining of foot pain again. It took me over half an hour to get him back to sleep. The repercussion of what happened earlier, I guess.

I blame myself for a lot of the challenges my son faces, even though I know I shouldn't. God has allowed Landon to live with disabilities. I had no say in that. But what I do feel like I have a say in is the day-to-day things that sometimes happen as a result of my failure to act responsibly or make the best decisions on his part. Sometimes I make bad choices and my children suffer as a result. That is not what God wants. As a parent I have no room for apathy and my child's well being should always be of the utmost importance to me. Everything I do, say, and think, affects my family. I fail them terribly sometimes. I'm not pretending to have committed some terrible sin because I didn't change my son's shoes when he said ouch this morning, but lets face it, I blew it. And yes, I am now beating myself up for it because I can't stand to see my baby cry!

Not such a great word afterall

2010-02-06T17:20:00.000-08:00

I was glancing at my previous post just now and decided that I actually do not care for my #10 word (flabbergasted) after-all. I mean why would you want to say (or hear) any word containing sub-words like"flab" and "gas"? Lets just say, it is not auditorily pleasing. There. I just had to say it.

Today's Prompt: Ten favorite words

2010-02-02T09:16:00.000-08:00

Love
Thanks
Forgiveness
Mama
Chocolate
Beautiful
Hullabaloo
Frugal
Cahoots
Flabbergasted

Favorite is a strong word, so I wasn't sure if should go with words I use a lot or simply words that I like. I went with words that I like. If I were to go with words that I use a lot, the list would look quite different: stop, clean-up, no, eat, headache... you get the picture! It is questionable to say that this is actually my top ten list. This was hard because I love words! I use them all day long and there are so many great ones. Because I am a writer I am always on the search for fabulous words. There are funny words, beautiful words, ugly words, and just plain useful words. Like pragmatic.

I decided to take this prompt one step farther and challenge myself to use all ten of these words to fabricate a story... here it goes: (only it's not really fabricated, it is very close to my reality!)

I awoke this morning to the sound of... nothing! Was it true? Was everyone still fast asleep in their beds? I gave thanks for that and decided to get up and make use of the quiet time, something pretty rare around here. I love my kids dearly, but man are they loud! I swear sometimes they are in cahoots to see who can drive Mama crazy first. At times I am driven to complete and total dependence on chocolate. Sad, I know. I flipped on the electric tea kettle and stood for a minute, listening to the gentle hum of the water beginning to heat. Mornings are beautiful when I am actually coherent enough to enjoy them. Before my water was at a full boil, I heard the clunking of tiny feet descending the stairs and I knew my five minutes of peace were over. It never lasts. I am at a a constant battle between enjoying my repose and enjoying the hullabaloo that is my family. It does me no good to fight in an effort to drag out a few more minutes of me time. It usually ends in a pointless bitterness that could have been avoided if I would have just surrendered to my children's need to be with me. I end up having immense amounts of mommy guilt and pleading for their forgiveness. It's ugly (you would be flabbergasted to see it). Anyway, seeing what a nice day it is becoming I think I will try to get us all outdoors for some fresh air. Maybe we will go to the park. Maybe we will swing by the thrift store where I can exercise my frugal abilities. That sounds like a nice compromise!

Today's second prompt: Describe five relationships that have had the greatest impact on you

2010-01-15T08:38:00.000-08:00

Since my last post was so cynical, I wanted to post something more uplifting this time.

Five impacting relationships...

God - I would be disgusting without him. I don't even want to think about who I'd be if not for his grace. He forgives me endlessly, grows me constantly, and loves me unconditionally.
My Husband - Again, I'd be a totally different person without him. I have known him for over nine years and he's definitely helped me be a better person. He's taught me so much!
My kids (both of them) - Nothing will change you like being totally responsible for another human being. They depend on me for everything and I cannot let them down. They have so much faith in me and it's up to me to see that they are successful people. Not to mention the fact that they LOVE me even when I am acting like a complete beast!
My Mother - I really don't know what I'd do without her. She has been by my side through all that I have ever been though in life, from crisis to joy. She's there. No matter how big or how small, she's there.
Cindy - The only friend I have stayed consistently in touch with for going on twenty years! We have never lost touch, never stopped visiting, never stopped talking. We've been enjoying each others company for so long, that it's hard to remember my life when she wasn't a part of it. Everyone needs at least one old friend!

Today's prompt: Do you ever think about growing old?

2010-01-15T08:05:00.000-08:00

Do I ever think about growing old? Yes. All the time. And I don't like it. As much as I love elderly people, I also pity them. Old age is beautiful and frightening all at the same time. I hear the harmless raillery about the "golden years" and of course I laugh, but it's really not funny. I'm guess I'm not talking about retirement age, though. I'm speaking of being elderly, really close to the end of your life and knowing it. My grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease last year and watching her go down hill is excruciating. She no longer does any of the things she used to love doing, except maybe sit and watch old westerns. That seems to have become her "thing" now, but that's all she wants to do. She used to crochet the most beautiful pieces, but between shaking hands and dwindling brain functions, it stresses her out so much that she doesn't enjoy it anymore. Is her disease partially a blessing in disguise? She's not totally aware of what is happening to her, but she knows she's not the same person she used to be and that has to make a person sad. Growing old makes the people around you sad. Sometimes I think about my husband and I growing old together. I want that for us, I really do. But there are so many unknowns in our future and to think about what we "might" face as we get older is kind of scary. His grandparents are in their 80's and fighting cancer right now. Grandma has been undergoing Chemo-therapy treatments and Grandpa recently had some growths removed from his neck. Something like this can happen to any one, at any age, but if you are in your 80's it seems like you are guaranteed to have something go wrong with your body. Either you are loosing your eye sight and hearing or you have some terrible disease. If you are so blessed as to not face those things, you are still not able to do the things you once loved, which is unfortunate. I don't mean to be so pessimistic, but recognizing that you are OLD has to be a difficult thing.

Today's prompt: Describe a typical day in Elementary School

2010-01-14T07:56:00.000-08:00

Jack wasn't the coolest kid on the block, but he sure knew how to be a friend. Every morning, as he descended the stairs from the second floor apartment where he lived with his mom and baby sister, he would look down the hall to see if Rudy was coming. Rudy was two years younger and sixth graders weren't supposed to hang out with fourth graders, but Jack didn't care. He never put much stock in what people thought, which was a bit of a challenge at his age, since most of the other kids thrived on poking fun. Rudy needed someone to ride the bus with and if Jack didn't do it, no one would. As the two of them approached the bus stop, they always watched to see the eight or so other kids from their complex gather around to dote over whatever forbidden object one of them had stashed in their back pack - or make small talk about what they were going to do once they got to school. A certain group of boys always met up at the handball court first thing in the morning. They raced to the court in a competition to see who could run the fastest, plus they wanted to get started quickly to get a few rounds in before the bell rang. Jack and Rudy usually just walked around the perimeter of the field, talking. They had to go their separate ways after that. Their classes didn't share the same recess times or lunches, so they didn't usually see each other again until it was time to ride the bus home. Jack often wondered what happened to Rudy once he went to his own classroom. He never said anything, but Jack suspected he spent most of his time alone, building things or excelling at whatever assignments were given. Rudy was a smart kid, and Jack knew that he would be something great someday.

Today's prompt: Your Favorite Elementary School Teacher

2010-01-13T11:03:00.000-08:00

When he walked into the room, we all gasped. He was a giant, well, from our four foot perspective anyway. Where was Mrs. Poling? Why did she leave? We all wanted her to come back and we would never, or so we vowed, warm up to this shiny headed hulk, who came to rule our classroom. When he spoke, we trembled. Detention? What kind of elementary school teacher gives detention? He was the devil in teachers clothing, as far as we were concerned. After a few days, we'd had enough and congregated on the playground to decide the best way to get Mr.Villa fired. A chosen group of three or four marched into the principals office, myself included on the committee. She welcomed us into her office, questioned the purpose of our presence, and after listening to each of us rave about why this man should be removed from our classroom, she responded softly. She suggested that we give him a chance and sent us on our way. Looking back, I can only imagine what she must have been thinking when we came in there - our little fifth grade hearts pounding, ready to debate. She did not buy our petition for one minute, and I thank God for that now. That she had the ability to see right through our scheme, that she had confidence that we were completely wrong about this man. We were. Something about her words, "just give him a chance, " had a deep affect on us. So we took them back to our friends who were waiting, impatiently, on the sidelines to hear what was said, and together we began to give him that chance. Before we knew it, we had forgotten why were so mad at him for "trying to take the place" of our beloved teacher who proceeded him . Once we looked at him in a different light, we saw a warm smile and a heart of gold. Yes, Mr.Villa was slightly stricter then most of the teachers any of us had ever had in our previous five years as students, but he clearly had only the best of intentions for us and was determined to see each one of his students succeed. He was a man of respect, and he demanded that not only we respect him, but that we respected each other. He had no tolerance for foul language, blatant disobedience, or children who ridiculed others. He was committed to our learning and to producing dignified young men and women. Most of all though, he loved us. It was as simple as that. And for the next two years (it was a mixed grade class) he left such an impression on us, that many of us returned year after year to visit him after school. I remember taking a birthday card to him one year with a friend, a couple of years later. We were well into junior high school by then and he seemed touched that we had remembered his birthday. I have memories tucked away in my mind of teasing him about his bald head, climbing up on a playground bench to try and rub it, him chuckling. I remember him coming down hard on the resident punk who had made a perverse comment to me in class one day. The kid had said it in Spanish, forgetting (or not knowing) that our teacher spoke the language and would know exactly what was said. I laughed so hard - busted! I have another image that stuck with me all these years for some reason of Mr.Villa scooping little Tony up from the ground and running to the office with him in his arms. Tony had fallen off the slide, and I think he broke his arm. Anyway, Mr.Villa always had our back! And, I'm positive that I am not the only adult who looks back now on those elementary school days and remembers what a wonderful man and role model he was. It's funny how my view of him started out so blemished. To think that I once tried to sabotage his career and now two decades later his face pops into my head the moment I read the words, "favorite elementary school teacher." It's hard to believe that it's been twenty years and I can't help but wonder where he is at today? Does he know how many lives he touched? I hope so.

Un-denied

2010-01-12T10:05:00.000-08:00

Reaching bold into the sky
The trees, they never ask why.

The mountains in all their glory, too
They never withhold credit due.

The beasts of the field and birds in flight
Celestial beings aglow at night
Crashing waves, trickling streams
still waters, too, it seems.

None of them question, none deny
So why does man? Why, oh why?

~Veronica Johnson 01/12/10

Today's prompt: Ow!

2010-01-12T09:32:00.000-08:00

The sweet pain of conviction...

There it is, that feeling again. That feeling that I've just been busted, like a befuddled teenager who has disappointed Dad out of an eagerness to experience sin. I have felt it many times in life and each time the embarrassment sets in heavy, and without bridle. In his justness, my God knows how to rescue me, to break me, so that I have no choice, but to acknowledge the truth: that I have messed up, again. As much as it hurts, conviction is also a sweet gift. It starts out fierce, like a lasso tied around my heart, squeezing, pulling me in a different direction. I can fight, but the hold won’t loosen until my course has changed. After the struggle, I am thankful. So very thankful! Understanding that I've been salvaged makes me smile. Yes, conviction is sweet after all.

I've been Introduced to the world of writing prompts

2010-01-11T11:00:00.000-08:00

Folks, I have discovered writing prompts. And I love them! I don't have a clue as to why I wasn't already using this type of exercise, but it's absolutely perfect for me when I have the itch to write, yet can't decide what I'm feeling led to write about (or I only have a moment). A friend recommended a book called The Pocket Muse, which contains little inspirations meant to help get those creative juices flowing. I can't wait to get a copy, but I got to searching the web and discovered that there is a plethora of writing prompts and exercises right at my fingertips. The web site www.creativity-portal.com, for example, offers a couple of choices, including The Imagination Prompt Generator, which is featured on Blogger's Buzz. I'd like to start blogging a writing prompt here at The Honey Pot daily or at least a few times a week. I will choose a prompt, then set a timer and write for about ten minutes.

Today's prompt is:
LIST FIVE THINGS IN MY REFREGERATOR

Ready, set, go...

1. Left over pulled pork, still in the Crock Pot - oh my goodness, it is so delicious! I had been wanting to make BBQ pulled pork again, ever since the last batch about a month ago. This time I made it so much easier on myself and bought a pre-cooked package at Costco (instead of using raw pork steaks that needed cooking and shredding). I threw it in the crock pot a few hours before supper time, dumped a half bottle of Sweet Baby Ray's original BBQ sauce in, set it on low, and VOILA! My family enjoyed pulled pork burritos for supper last night and we are looking forward to having the left overs tonight.

2. A small container of frosting left over from my son's recent birthday cake - I can't stop getting into it, just for a "taste." It goes quite well with animal crackers!

3. A green bell pepper - this will probably never be used. I don't like green bell peppers and usually only cook with red or yellow. My in-laws brought it home when they were visiting last month.

4. A four and a half pound jug of Southwest Salsa - we were thrilled to find that Safeway sold our favorite salsa in an industrial sized bottle!

Okay, the timer just went off, which means I spent too much time raving about the pork! Here's the last one anyway...

5. A two liter bottle of Mountain Dew - we don't drink a lot of soda, but every once in a while my husband craves Mountain Dew. I have to admit I like it too, and will usually steal several sips from his cup when he's not looking!

Can't

2009-12-30T11:47:00.000-08:00


(Maine) photo copyright © Veronica Johnson

The thoughts are in there. Somewhere. The desire is there, too. I want to write. I really do. I want to get together with myself, alone, and let ideas rush through my brain like a river carving out a chasm into soft clay. But just when I think I have a moment it is gone before my fingers can hit the keyboard. I am never alone. Winter Break is upon us. Napping days are long gone. "Quite time" is a joke. Solitude cannot be found, so I will never produce anything worth an eye's time. Understanding that makes me angry, an emotion I have spent entirely too much time getting acquainted with. So what do I do? Am I to keep exerting great effort against being interrupted? Against a perpetual togetherness that will never back down to my desire for finishing a thought? Or am I to forget myself entirely in order to make my children happy? Answer to their every whim. There is a constant battle between myself, on the inside, and the world that spins around me.

Psalms

2009-12-03T06:53:00.000-08:00

I wish that I could go back in time and hear the Psalms sung, or often cried, out to God in their original form. I try to imagine King David, the "sweet psalmist of Israel," and all the other Psalmists passionately composing them. But even in the deepest parts of my mind I cannot recreate what must have been incredibly intimate moments between God and man. ~ Veronica Johnson

Small Potatoes

2009-11-30T15:46:00.000-08:00

Today I received a letter (via email) inviting me to join a team of freelancers who write articles for an informational website. I applied last week, knowing little about what I was embarking upon, but feeling adventurous. On my application I ranted about my passion and experiences, hoping it was enough to convince someone I could write. I have never really written objectively and have a hard time pulling words like "I" and "me" out of my work. It recently occurred me that while subjective writing is incredibly liberating, it may not get one very far in the world of freelancing. And so, with a new vision and many new goals, I have much to gain as I compose short, resourceful articles for internet readers. Of coarse, I will always find the need to release my thoughts and reflect on life here at The Honey Pot! In fact, I recently joined a Writer's Group where I set a goal to start writing poems again. I look forward to re-visiting this favorite past time and hopefully will get at least one poem written this month. This is all very exciting, but also a bit overwhelming as I hunt for the time to pursue these things. The new job will not pay much, but there is compensation if I can generate traffic to my page. In some ways, I decide how much I make by the number of pieces I produce and how well I promote the site. The "extra cash" will be appreciated, although I am most grateful for the opportunity to lay a foundation and build a portfolio. While this gig is very small potatoes in the world of literature, it has brought on the motivation I need to press on and grow!

A sweet sound

2009-11-02T17:18:00.000-08:00

Last week during worship at church I found myself tuning in to the voices around me. Not to judge, but to enjoy. There is something incredibly sweet about praises rising up in one accord to our God. From the circle of people around me, one voice stood out the most. It came from behind and belonged to a little old lady. I didn't turn to look, but simply listened and was greatly blessed by what I heard. I could hear in her voice that she was elderly, yet somehow she managed to raise up her voice above the others and keep up with the fast paced, contemporary songs we were doing. Her love for the father was obvious in the way she expressed it through song! After worship we were encouraged to greet those around us, so I finally turned and introduced myself to Phyllis. I wished to tell her how impressed I was by her voice, but didn't want to embarrass her by letting on that I had been listening. It wasn't that her voice was one of great beauty from a worldly perspective, but it was one of strength, love, and total admiration for our Lord. No matter how old she got, she was going to worship her king wholeheartedly, and I can only hope that when I am her age, I too never cease to praise him!

Couldn't resist this photo:

Photo attribution:

http://www.chinasmack.com/2010/pictures/crazy-old-grannies-china-vs-america.html

Tales from the laundry room

2009-11-02T16:05:00.000-08:00

Have I ever told you I have a laundry shoot? Pretty cool, huh? Anyway, the basket that sits underneath of it down in the laundry room often disappears under a colorful mountain of clothing. Every once in a while, whether I like it or not, I have to bulldoze it down. The other day as I did this, I thought about how much I loathed dirty clothes, but then was reminded of how fortunate I am to have such a modern machine to get them clean. When I finished sorting, I moved the empty basket. I really have no idea why I moved it, but I did. I was shocked at what I found under it. There, nestled cozily on my linoleum floor, was a humongous, brown, slimy worm. This was no ordinary earth worm, no no. This was one very happy, very fat Night Crawler. He lay among a few specks of dirt, coiled up like a miniature snake, and he was not very pleased that I had discovered his hiding spot. Never mind the fact that I was actually rescuing him, since there is no way he would have survived there very long. Ew! Imagine if I had found him dead and decaying?! Gross! Anyway, totally perplexed, I showed my kids and then sent the worm back outdoors. How he did he get into our laundry room? Not only that, but how did he make his way under the mountain of clothes? I really have no clue. A few ideas have rolled around in my head, but none of them really seem like the logical answer. (On a side note, it's not that I don't like worms, I just don't really care for them squirming around my house uninvited!) There's more... later that afternoon, when removing a load from the washing machine, I noticed a strange, clear, gel-like substance sticking to all of the "clean" clothes. Upon farther inspection I discovered that I had managed to wash a disposable diaper - most likely a "wet" one that had somehow gotten mixed in with the dirty clothes, rather then going out with the trash can. What's worse is that I'm pretty sure this has happened to me once before. You'd think I would learn to pay closer attention after the first time! I ran the clothes through another wash cycle and that seemed to take care of the sticky stuff. Needless to say, my laundry experiences that day were semi-entertaining. Worms and dirty diapers... sigh... not my idea of fun, but when is doing the laundry ever fun?

Up Early

2009-09-13T00:31:00.000-07:00

Regarding music

2009-09-12T22:39:00.000-07:00

Lyrics mean so much to me when listening to music. Sometimes a great sound is ruined by horrible lyrics. When that happens, I have a hard time listening.

Even the rusty ones

2009-09-12T07:19:00.000-07:00

My four-year-old son has been in love with cars ever since he could spin a wheel. Cars, especially old ones, are not just something he has an affection for, it is a passion. A full blown obsession! Because of this we take him to a lot of car shows. So imagine our delight when we discovered that every Friday night, during the summer, a bunch of hot rod fanatics gather at a local grocery store to show off their dazzling machines! We ventured up there last night and found a row of about ten beautiful, shiny, classic cars lining the back wall of the parking lot. We pulled into a nearby parking spot and Landon flew out of his car seat and bee-lined. But to our astonishment, he wasn't running toward the shiny cars... he had spotted an old, rusty clunker (belonging to a shopper) parked a few spaces over from us. He was headed strait for it, exhibiting the same exact enthusiasm that he does for fully restored automobiles. I quickly caught up with him to make sure he didn't get in the path of any moving vehicles, and tried to persuade him to leave the jalopy and head over to the real hot rods. However, he had tunnel vision for this bucket of bolts and refused to walk away from it. I mean, this was a real piece of junk - deeply corroded and parts nearly falling off - yet he gave it the same ten point inspection that he gives all antique cars. He checked out the wheels, the bumpers, the trunk, the inside, everything, and then f i n a l l y headed over to see the others. Of coarse, he exerted incredible joy upon circling those ones, too, and gave each of them his thorough inspection. We spent some time talking about each car - color, make and model, etc. Every once in a while he would look up to see if the clunker was still there, even heading over to look at it once more. He truly loves all old cars. As I observed all of this, I couldn't help but wonder why on earth he paid so much attention to the ugly, practically broken down vehicle when there were so many beautiful, pristine ones right across the way. Why on earth would he even give this car his time?, I asked myself. Then I heard that still, small voice and realized that Landon's passion for cars is not dependent upon perfection. He does not demand that every car have twenty grand poured into it or that it has been polished. He simply cares that it is a car. Plain and simple. Does it have wheels? If so, then it must have somewhere to go, right? If not, then it's just "broke" as he puts it, and needs fixing. Last night all he said to me about the broken car was, "needs paint." To Landon, it was just as valuable as the others.

So, what's my point? The point is, God loves us as we are, too. He might need to give us a good tune up once in a while, sand away our rust or replace a few parts, but to him any person is worth loving and forgiving. We are all valuable to him... even when the wear and tear of life has taken it's toll and we need a ton of work. Last night I silently thanked the Lord for excepting my flaws and for being excited about me. Excited, now there's a word that I have never labeled God with before! But it's true... he's excited about us, the same way that my son is excited about those cars, only more so, because he built us, he fixes us, and he gets to drive us!

Incident of the dead sparrow

2009-09-11T08:30:00.000-07:00

The other evening I sat, relaxed, while typing an email to a friend. I was thoroughly enjoying the light breeze coming in through the window and the departure of a headache I'd been experiencing for several hours. While one child kept himself busy in the back yard, the other was busy on the potty. I sought to seize the few solitary minutes available to me and got lost in my thoughts. Then suddenly amidst the echo of my meditation, a tiny voice rose up and I realized I was being spoken to. I raised my head. There stood my four-year-old with some sort of lifeless creature in his left hand, jabbering something about a bird. He approached me, holding out the stiff, brown, feathery mass as if to say, "look what I found, Mama!" My speedy leap from the couch startled him and he dropped the bird on the floor. Before he could bend down to reclaim his find, I was already scooping it up with a paper towel. Meanwhile, my three-year-old heard the commotion from the upstairs bathroom, dismounted the toilet, and came to see what was going on. They both followed me outside, confused about my haste to get the creature into the trash can. The whole time, my son (the retriever) was saying, "want to hug him, want to hug the bird." I don't remember what my responses were because I wasn't see this as a teachable moment, but more of a disgusting, just-get-rid-of-the-grossness, moment. I couldn't wait to scrub the dead bird germs from my little boys hands. Whats worse, he has a tendency to feel things with his lips and, well, the thought still makes me cringe. (He isn't able to tell me all the details and I'm not sure I want to know anyway!). After we washed our hands and disinfected the floor, I noticed it was nearing bath time and decided to go ahead an throw throw them in the tub. That's when I bent over to remove shoes and found myself face to face with the toilet bowl. I quickly came back down to earth and remembered life before the dead sparrow. Oh yeah, Aly had been on the potty and look, she pooped! Long story short my sweet girl had been following me around for the last ten minutes, outside and everything, with poop smeared all over her bottom. I had been so frenzied over the incident at hand that I paid no attention to her nakedness. Once the kids were clean and cozy in their pajamas, I went back and finished that email, just not quite as relaxed as when I first started it. I couldn't stop wondering if Landon had given the cadaver kisses before he decided to come show it to me. Bottom line, I love my park-like back yard and the beautiful, tall, bird-filled pine trees growing there, but I think I will take my husbands advice and do a quick walk-through before the children play outside from now on!

Side note: When we first moved into this house our fire place had several small, dead birds inside. The piece of metal on top, meant to keep animals out, was rusted through and they had gotten stuck in there. If all of this keeps up, I am going to start having nightmares about dead birds!

I know, I know...

2009-09-05T07:21:00.000-07:00

God is so much bigger then this.

We are his people, the sheep of his pasture

2009-08-30T09:02:00.000-07:00

PSALM 100
Shout with joy to the Lord, O earth!
Worship the Lord with gladness.
Come before him, singing with joy.
Acknowledge that the Lord is God!
He made us, and we are his.
We are his people, the sheep of his

pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving;
go into his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him and bless his name.
For the Lord is good.
His unfailing love continues forever,
and his faithfulness continues to each generation.

A funny story:
One night my dad answered the door to a frantic neighbor in her robe. She told him that two of his sheep had gotten out of their pasture, wondered into her yard and fallen into her swimming pool. Apparently they just walked right off the edge into the water. My dad threw on his boots, grabbed his lasso, and rushed to the rescue of the panicking sheep. With in minutes he had them safely on dry ground and back in their field.

As my dad told me this story, I couldn't help, but chuckle. "Stupid sheep," I muttered. And with those words, I realized how profound this story was. How many times have I walked right off the edge? How many times has my shepherd come to my rescue? People really are like sheep with a desperate need for their shepherd.

Speaking of grumpy ducks

2009-08-27T16:27:00.000-07:00

In my last post I made mention of the grumpy ducks at a nearby park. I want to elaborate on that because, as I watched those feathery "friends" mingle in their little community, I saw a close connection to the way we (as in, people) treat each other. There were about fifty ducks swimming in a loose circle who immediately made a beeline over to us as we approached the shore. No doubt, they thought we had munchies to share (sorry guys, we come to you empty handed). My children and I sat down in the dirt next to the pond and bird watched for a few minutes. The ducks did not seem to believe us when we told them we did not have any food, so they just continued to hang around while Landon teased them (not on purpose) by throwing pebbles into the water. As I studied the various ducks in this little community, I saw big ones, small ones, brown, black, and white ones. I noticed that several of them had no social skills whatsoever! Even though most of them stayed within their semi-circle, they were cold and rude to each other, sometimes nipping for no apparent reason at any duck who came with in a necks distance. I was surprised by this barbaric nature. Even though these ducks had a cool pond to swim in, plenty of company, and humans constantly at the bank throwing them treats, they were still not satisfied with life. That sounded awfully familiar to me and I was reminded of the ugly sin that resides in my own heart, and sometimes those I encounter. People often act like that... snapping at each other just because they "can" or because a person, unknowingly, offended them in some small way. The truth is, we aren't satisfied with our own life, so we take it out on everyone else. I was glad that I encountered those ducks today - it made me want to try harder to be joyful and kind to those with in my own community. I also thought about how we must look like a bunch of silly ducks to God, as he watches us from the banks of Heaven!

Soaking up Summer

2009-08-27T15:46:00.001-07:00

It hit me pretty hard this morning to realize that summer is already coming to an end. I figure we need to get out of the house every chance we get these days. Today I took my kids to a great park today where we descended a gigantic slide several times before making our way over to the duck pond, which happens to be home to some seriously grumpy ducks! Finally we made our way down to the shore of the river. It was great fun, as there is nothing quite like ripping off your shoes and submerging your feet into cold, flowing river water. A few tiny fish scattered as we made our way across the shallow parts, stumbling on slippery, green rocks. Near by, a young boy hung over the cement boat launch, head practically under water, insisting that a huge frog was going to jump out and scare us all. We waited, but the frog never made an appearance. As the sun grew hotter and hotter the "swimming hole" became quite busy, so we decided to head home. As we left, I told myself that we must come back as much as possible over the next few weeks because in a few months we will be up to our neck in rain and snow.

Truths

2009-08-10T08:27:00.000-07:00

All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.

-Galileo Galilei (1564-1642)

1 Corinthians 16:13&14

2009-08-06T10:48:00.000-07:00

"Be on guard. Stand true to what you believe. Be courageous. Be strong. And everything you so must be done with love."

I read this verse the other day and, for the first time in a long time, stopped to work on memorizing it. It simply struck me as one of those "verses to live by." One of those verses that says it all, ya know? As a follower of Christ, if you can manage to do those five things you should be in pretty good shape. The problem is that it is not always easy to do any of those things, let alone all of them at the same time. This is why we depend on Christ so desperately. In and of ourselves, accomplishing any of this is near impossible. But when we wipe away all self-dependence and simply let God work in and through us, it becomes possible. My goal today is that I would stop trying so hard to accomplish these things, because honestly, I am just screwing it up. I am getting in the way and actually preventing God from doing work in my life. I need to step aside and just let him be in my life. The verse above says, "everything you do must be done with love". Everything. The fact that some things I do are most definitely not done with love, tells me that I am not letting God work in and through me. So often everything I do has me written all over it, not God.

Anxiously waiting

2009-07-21T08:57:00.000-07:00

Next week I will get to see my BFF! (Ha. I've secretly always want to use that contraction and haven't, until now). She and her family are coming out for a visit and we couldn't be more excited to see them. It has burdened both of our hearts that our children are not growing up together, but such is life. We probably spend more time on the phone then anyone in the history of long distance friendships, so this visit has been a long time coming. Our family was out her way a couple of years ago, but it was a quick visit and our children were much younger. Her oldest was tiny at the time and slept in his carrier a lot while we were there. Now he is about to turn three and since I now have a three and four year old we just know they are going to have a blast together. I also get to meet baby Brynlee for the first time and I absolutely can't wait. She is almost eight months old and quite the little bundle of fun these days, so I hear. My Aly loves babies and I know she is just going to adore baby Bryn. We have plans to hit the Oregon Coast and are praying for good weather, especially since this will be a first time visit to the ocean for her kids!

America

2009-07-05T10:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday as I celebrated my freedom, I thought about the experiences America has had over the past couple hundred years. How different my life is from the women who've gone before me. How different my children's lives are from childhoods long gone. Our lives are different, better, because of those people. Times were hard for them, harder then you or I can even fathom. And without going into descriptive detail, I am so thankful to them for enduring the things that they did. The things that made America a better place to live.

Waiting up

2009-06-07T01:00:00.000-07:00

What in the world am I doing in this upright position? I'm in my bed and it's 1:00 am for crying out loud. But I am not asleep, nor am I comfortable in the least bit. The blankets are muddled in clumps around my feet, my back is aching despite the massive pillow stuffed behind it, and the lights are brighter then ever. I have been staring at this little, rectangle shaped machine on my lap for way too long - ever since my husband announced he was not coming to bed, but going downstairs to paint the guest bedroom. What is it about falling asleep alone that I object to? Why do I bother to wait up for him? Honestly, there really is no point in it, but for some unknown, funky, subconscious reason I deny myself the incredible opportunity to get some much needed rest and I sit here. Hour after hour, ruining my eye sight, abusing my fingers, depriving my brain of downtime. Do I crave cognizant solitary that bad that I am willing to sit up until the wee hours of the night to get it? Pathetic. You'd think that I would at least spend this time crocheting or reading a good book to make this time worthy of staying up for. I could be dreaming. Well, now that I have seen substantial evidence of how ridiculous it is that I am awake right now written out on a screen in front of me (because that's how my brain works) I think I will try to get some sleep...

Drool

2009-06-06T23:12:00.000-07:00

I was just thinking about how the other day I fell asleep on my son's bed with him and drooled on his head. Is that bad or what? Poor little guy. Oh well, I guess I shouldn't feel bad considering the countless encounters I have had with his bodily functions.

I'll admit, I'm a little down tonight

2009-06-01T22:11:00.001-07:00

I am the mother of a special needs kid. It is a wonderful privilege to raise my son, yet it is also quite a challenge and I often have to wonder if I am suited for it. Then I remind myself (for the one thousandth time) that God chose me to be Landon's mommy and therefore I can rest assured that I am the right one for the job. The courage that it takes, though, does not come easy. In fact, I have spent the past four years trying to figure out just where to muster up this courage that I speak of. But really it comes from the most obvious of places: love. My love for him is all I need, after that everything else just comes. The humility, the strength, the patience, the bottomless pit of energy... these things just emerge from inside of you, as if you encompassed them all along (don't get me wrong, I find myself fatigued and frustrated, but although these moments are frequent, they do pass quickly). I am also the mother of a "typically developing" child and often I find it extremely challenging to raise them equally yet appropriately. What works for one certainly does not work for the other with pretty much anything. Many times I find myself coming down harder on my typical child, only to embrace her in my guilt later. Tonight I am feeling an ache in my heart. I am thinking about the two of them and how I know they face two very different futures. I don't know what either one of them will look like and I worry about what part I will play in all of it. Sometimes I cry when I think about the challenges that Landon will surely face as he grows and enters public schools. Yet, I am so quick to assume that Aly will do fine because, well, I did fine (relatively speaking) and she is a lot like me. I guess that's a silly assumption, but it's just the way I feel. I love them both to no end and neither one of them lacks affection from myself or my husband. They are both showered daily with hugs and kisses, in fact we can't get enough. But will my love be enough? That's what breaks my heart as I wonder about the future. Especially Landon's future. I know that there will be more diagnoses, more procedures, more trials, more mountains to climb, and I just want to see Landon succeed. He has been such a trooper and anyone who knows him knows that nothing can stop him... but he is only four years old, he has an entire life ahead of him. A life that I am responsible for molding. My tears come easy tonight as I think about this responsibility, yet I wouldn't want anyone else to take my place. I might be fearful, but I am also fascinated and thrilled to be on this journey with my family. I know our faith will see us through - for God has lavished his protection over us time and time again, our ever present help in time of need.

Late to bed, early to rise

2009-05-29T07:18:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, those summer nights! During this time of year we like to leave our bedroom window open and a simple sheet does well for warmth. I slept decent last night, once I finally went to bed... then, the usual happened. I found myself dragging my four-year-old out of my bed (and back to his) to make good on my threats for his kicking and early morning small talk. It was 4:45am. Surprisingly enough, he stayed in his bed after I bent down and in a quiet, but firm, voice said, "stay!" After stumbling back to my room and crawling back under my sheets, though, I quickly realized I would not be going back to sleep. You see, the problem in sleeping with the bedroom window open is that you begin to hear all the sounds happening outside as the earth wakes up. It started with a train. We recently moved to a small, rural town where the trains trudge back and forth all day and night announcing to the entire population that they have arrived. Normally, this does not bother me and I welcome the railroad wholeheartedly, but at a quarter 'till five in the morning, train engineers are not my friends. Once the freight train made it's way across town and slowly could not be heard (at least not in Canby), I noticed something else happening outside. Again, it was something that I normally love, yet despise when it robs me of my sleep. It was birds. Birds are great, aren't they? I truly do love them, I just can't comprehend why they immediately need to to sing the split second they think the sun is about to rise. I realize that both of these problems, the trains and the noisy birds, have an easy fix - just shut the window! I considered this for moment, but there was a third nuisance playing a part in all of this and I knew there was no way I would fall back asleep with my stomach growling. So, I've been up for three hours now, while the other' sleep and will, no doubt, have twice the energy I will today. I know this sounds an awful lot like a complaint - I tend to radiate that tone and it's a bad habit - but really I'm not complaining. The trains, our feathered friends, even my stomach, are all just doing what they do and I often find that these mornings when I am "forced" out of bed at a ridiculous hour usually end up being the best of days.

Purple Rhodie

2009-05-24T15:19:00.000-07:00

Just playing around with photoshop, trying to get better at it.
Flowers sure make great practice material!
Photo © Veronica Johnson

Mama Hen, checking in

2009-05-07T17:24:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks have been overwhelming, to say the least, and I am finally hitting one of those walls that slams me down in my seat and says, "Write! Right now." I haven't hit one of these walls in a while, mainly because I haven't had time and I have managed to dodge around them when I've seen them approaching. I couldn't avoid it this time though, my body is beginning to hate me and leave me no choice. I am not much of a napper, so unlike most weary folks who sleep when they are fatigued, I prefer to just sit down and write about something. Anything. As long as it doesn't require much thought and my brain can just spew out whatever it feels like at the time. Having said that, what brought me to this place right now is the ever-so-exhilarating event of moving. Wait, not just moving, but buying a house to be precise. Three weeks ago we closed escrow, which in and of itself was a wild ride (I'll spare the details to save myself from a rising pulse - after all, it is in the past now). Once we f i n a l l y closed escrow and got the keys to our house the real fun began. Anyone who has ever moved knows how it sends your mind into a tailspin, because even though you are thrilled, it's just overwhelming. Now moving is one thing, but moving with two toddlers? Now that's a whole new level of crazy. I don't even know how to begin to describe it (really, I don't). So just use your imagination and picture me running around like a chicken with my head cut off for the past month with two cantankerous chickies battling under my wings everywhere I go. As we approach the one month mark in our new house, though, things are ever-so-slightly starting to settle down and we are getting comfortable. We've spent the past few weeks meeting the neighbors, learning about our new environment, and enjoying the animals that peruse our yard (i.e the two beautiful, but obnoxious bluebirds that dictate when and where Hammy the squirrel can feast on his peanuts). We're feeling out our little town and the country road we drive to take Landon to his new school. We're figuring out where we want to put our furniture, hang our pictures, etc. We have to drive a few more miles to get most places we want to go, and we haven't even made our first mortgage payment yet, but all in all, I'd say we are quite happy with our choice. As Mama Hen, I'm not so sure that my head will ever really be on tight and I can't imagine life with out my little chickies under my wings. However, I've come to accept that, for this season of life, topsy-turvy is normal. I'm just excited to finally be in a house while it's all happening!

Atheism

2009-03-27T13:46:00.001-07:00

The Prayer of St. Patrick

2009-03-17T08:25:00.000-07:00


I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me;
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's hosts to save me
Afar and anear,
Alone or in a mulitude.

Christ shield me today
Against wounding
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through the mighty strength
Of the Lord of creation.

Be still and know

2009-03-16T14:13:00.000-07:00

BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD!

The phrase from the 46th Psalm comes to mind when I think about how truly enlightening it is to just sit and enjoy the love of the father. Thinking back over the passed few days, I realize I haven't stopped to thank him for what he has done. Oh, I have spoken of his blessings. I have told almost everyone I know how excited we are about our new home and God's impeccable timing! I have given him full credit for delivering us a house in which I believe we can be happy in for many years to come. But have I actually physically and verbally thanked him? Or have I just simply felt thanksgiving in my heart and not actually said the words? I know he knows my heart, but I think he should hear me say the words. I shall do that now...

Delghting in the Lord

2009-03-04T07:12:00.000-08:00

This morning I am anxious because we are about to make another offer on a house. I didn't sleep well last night, even after I prayed and supposedly "released" it to the Lord. As I sat down to read his word a little while ago, a particular thought was on my mind... something about how the Lord will give us the desires of our hearts. I sought this out and found Psalm 37:4 where it says, "take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your hearts desires." Take delight in the Lord. That is the first step! He's not just going to hand us everything we ask for because beg like a toddler eyeballing the candy in the checkout line. I really think that's how we must look to him sometimes! Anyway, I got to thinking about that and how delighting in him is so much more then just saying 'we love him', or even living Godly lives. It's when you literally make him the source of your joy. It's when being in his presence is the only place you ever long to be. It's when you involve him in everything you do because you can't get through the day without him (nor do you want to!). I'm not saying I have this perfected by any means. In fact, I often do try to get through my days without him, which usually has a destructive affect. But he knows the desires of my heart and the desire of his heart is to be able give them to me, but I must delight in him and make him the center of my joy first. The cool thing is that if you keep reading farther down the psalm you find out that he too, delights in us! This was comforting to me: "The steps of the Godly are directed by the Lord. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble they will not fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand."

Lord, please forgive me for the sin in my heart that pushes you from the center of it. I want you to be my delight and I am embarrassed by the many other things that I take delight in - things that aren't of you. You know the desires of my heart even better then I do and you know what is best for me (and my family), so whatever that is, that's what I want. Amen!

Biggest Complainer

2009-02-24T14:47:00.000-08:00

When I was in fifth grade my best friend at the time and I were deemed "Biggest Complainers" in our little class year book. Now there's a title you don't brag about! But I had to admit that it had significant truth behind it. It was funny at the time, sort of, and my friend and I were able to laugh it off. However, over the years that label, "Biggest Complainer," has haunted me because I know full well that I am guilty of it. So why haven't I stopped? The conviction obviously didn't cause me to change my ways. Why? Is that who I really am? A class act complainer? Now that's just sad! Oh how many times I have read Philippians 2:14 and walked away "feeling" convicted, yet continued to grumble about various things in my life. Confession: when I sat down to blog just now I had intentions of making a list about why I didn't like living in an apartment. Seriously - that's what I planned to write about. I'm not kidding! But something caused me to pause and think about what I was about to do. I was about to make a full blown list of complaints! I should be making lists of blessings in my life, not lists of things I don't like. God has blessed my family and I with a roof over our heads and that's all that matters. How would that make him feel to see me making a list of why I don't like the home he has provided me with? Honestly, I do see blessings everywhere and I do speak of them often, but if I am also complaining along with that, what good can the blessings bring to my life? There shouldn't be room in my heart for both. In fact, my mouth shouldn't even be speaking both! I found this devotional about what it says to ourselves, God, and others when we complain. I liked this and wanted to share it. Click HERE to read it... it's pretty short and worth the read!

Ouch

2009-02-20T07:52:00.000-08:00

There are two things currently pressing on my spirit, and they both sting. The first is a scripture... one that has been haunting me for months now. The second is a blurb from a book that I am reading. They deal with two completely different situations, but they both pertain to character flaws that I am currently at battle with.

The scripture is James 1:5-8. It says, " If you need wisdom-if you want to know what God wants you to do-ask him, and he will gladly tell you. He will not resent your asking. But when you ask him, be sure that you really expect an answer, for a doubtful mind is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. People like that should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. They can't make up their minds. They waver back and forth in everything they do." I know, I've shared it on here before, but ouch! I mean, that really cuts to the chase, doesn't it? I won't elaborate at the moment as to where this particular scripture applies to my life, but I wanted to write it down none the less. I have known about this passage for years, but when brought to my attention a few months ago, it has left me searching my heart for the areas where I ask the Lord to show me his wisdom, but then doubt every bit of it. Not a good thing to do.

The other bitter-sweet morsel I have been chewing on these days deals with an ugly sin. The oncoming of this particular piece is almost comical, but it just goes to show that God has perfect timing. Do you find yourself apologizing for your words, actions, and behaviors very often? Then this is for you. I read this bit the very day I had apologized to my husband for a thing I had done. As I delivered my oh-so-sincere remorse to him via yahoo for this "thing", my attitude was sort of "oh how great am I for admitting when I am wrong!", but I also couldn't help thinking, "I wonder if he appreciates my apologies or of he gets tired of hearing them?" Later that afternoon, I was doing homework for a book study and read this about confession: "[Confessing] is more then just apologizing. Anyone can do that. We all know people who are good apologizers. The reason they are so good at it is because they get so much practice. They have to say 'I'm sorry' over and over again because they never change their ways. In fact, they sometimes say 'I'm sorry' without ever actually admitting to any fault. Those are professional apologizers. And their confessions don't mean anything. But true confession means admitting in full detail what you have done and then fully repenting of it." Then it goes on to explain that true repentance is being sorry for your sin to the point of grief, and then you turn and walk away from it. That's the hard part for me. The real change! I have no problem admitting that I have done something wrong, but I also have no problem doing it again, and that is not true repentance.

The potty power struggle

2009-02-13T15:05:00.000-08:00

My daughter is two and a half and the sweetest little girl when it comes to the standard of sweet little girls! But alas, she has some definite control issues. Looking back, I realize that perhaps mom (that's me!) played a big role in this matter. I haven't always been the greatest model of compassion, quiet words, loving actions, and selflessness. In fact, when I look at her I see myself in many ways, which tells me that most of her behaviors have been learned since I am the person she spends the majority of her time learning from. The point is, her and I are so much a like that we are at an almost constant battle for power. I know that sounds silly to some, perhaps almost ridiculous that I would even attempt to hash anything out with a toddler. But what you have to understand is that this little girl will go any length to not submit to her mother! She doesn't have trouble obeying orders... just orders from me! It's not because I don't discipline and it's not because I'm inconsistent, it is simply because she demands control at any cost. Today I had an epiphany regarding my recent efforts to potty train her. She is a brilliant child, she "gets it", she knows how to use the potty. She is fully capable of realizing when her body needs to relive itself and fully capable of holding it until she gets to a toilet. However, she is choosing to pee in her underwear to spite me - peeing in the toilet would mean submitting to mom! This is the one thing that she can have control of. How do I know this? Because she pees in her underwear right after getting off the potty - even if she just went; She pees in her underwear right after insisting to me that she doesn't have to go; And she pees in her underwear for no other reason then because she knows I don't want her to. She pees in her underwear because she can! It's amazing how at two and a half children already have a desire to be in charge. I have no problem showing her whose boss when it comes to most issues... but the truth is, I am not in charge of her body. She is. She has to learn what is appropriate and what is not. I am trying to teach her that, but all she hears is that I want her to do something. I am not a believer in punishment when it comes to potty training. Potty training is something that takes time, love, and boat loads of patience. I never spank, give time outs, or anything like that for accidents. We all mess up when we are first learning to do something new. But I am not quite sure what to do in this situation. I do believe that she is doing this on purpose, but I refuse to "punish" her when she pees in her underwear, it just breaks a rule of mine. I think she needs to be disciplined in some form, but I have to figure out how to make her understand what she did wrong. I don't want her to feel like she can't ever have an accident because she will get in trouble for it. I have to figure out a way to make her stop feeling like everything needs to be a struggle with me... to make her become more submissive and less stubborn. I know I need to model that for her, but how do I do that without it seeming like I'm submitting to her? That's the last thing I want to do because she does need to know that I am in charge and that she does have to do what I say. This is so tricky!

*Lord, please show me what I need to do and give me the courage and patience to do it*

Am I trusting?

2009-01-22T14:01:00.001-08:00

I haven't been posting on this blog lately, which is odd since I have had so much on my mind. I guess when you put everything into a nut shell, it falls under one broad question - am I trusting God? The answer should be a simple a yes or no, but a constant desire to explain myself begs me to elaborate. I trust him with some things, but clearly not with everything. When my four year old son had a seizure and turned blue in the middle of a department store, I found myself panicking on the the phone with 911. Did I trust him then? Well, I think it's fair to say that any parent would have panicked in that moment. But, did I trust him in the days afterward, as I scheduled tests and awaited results? Not really. I dwelled on negative thoughts and asked my self over and over again, "what am I going to do if...?", or I prayed and basically told God what I wanted him to do. That's not trusting him. I can see God's hand in everything, though, and I've thanked him time and again for the many ways he has provided protection. I knew he had commanded his angels to guard over Landon that day and I am truly humbled. So, what about this house hunt that my husband and I are on? Am I trusting God with that? We have been looking for a house to buy for nearly four months and to be honest I am growing weary of the search. It's not fun anymore and I am am growing a bit impatient. I suppose that being impatient and not trusting God aren't exactly the same thing, are they? I do recognize the fact that God has perfect timing and I know that he has every detail of this in his hands. I know that when we do find a house, we are going to have his blessing and that it is going the be the right one for our family. That's not something to jump into and I do trust him with that. As for a deeper, more personal struggle, lately I have been pondering my shortcomings and all the areas where I am feeling insufficient. I have clearly not been allowing the Lord in to mold and change me. Sometimes I feel like such a failure as a wife and mom. I find myself thinking that my best is just not good enough, but then I realize that I am not really giving it my best shot. I can do much better, I just don't always try hard enough. If I try harder then I can trust God to reward me for that. He will build me up and restore my self confidence so that I don't have to question my adequacy anymore. He will make me into the person that he created me to be. He's not going to allow me to stay where I'm at, staggering around in my fears and indulging in my laziness. He won't except that from me and I know that. I've got a lot of work to do this coming year... work that mostly involves learning to trust Him with everything, not just the things that I pick!

Catching up

2008-12-14T21:41:00.000-08:00

I haven't written on this blog for a while and can no longer fight the urge! I want to write and the only thing I can think to tell about right now is the day's events. It started off quite exciting! Shortly after getting out of bed we noticed showers of snowflakes falling from the sky outside of our apartment. It slowly began to blanket the ground and shrubbery with soft sheets of fresh powder. By noon there was enough snow outside to build a snowman, get into a snowball fight, and make snow angels. It snowed for eight solid hours without breaking. It was lighter at times, but still constant. It stopped just as we sat down to supper and left us staring out our living room window literally at a winter wonderland. Portland is not known for large amounts of snow, but boy did we get our fair share today! We expect more tonight and into the week. With the several inches that dropped today combined with freezing temperatures, the snow is not going anywhere anytime soon. It has been said the cold snap we are currently experiencing prevails over any in this area for the past decade (and here we are in our first full Oregon winter since leaving sunny southern California!). My son's preschool is closed tomorrow and we are hoping daddy won't have to go into the bank, but I fear he might. Normally I wouldn't mind, but we live on a steep hill and I know he is not looking forward to getting up early and putting chains on the car in these temperatures. I would love for the four of us to stay home together again all day tomorrow. Today was quite pleasant and a repeat would be nice! We wrapped up the evening by decorating our Christmas tree. My toddlers had a blast with the ornaments and were a great help. In fact, every ornament was put on, taken off, and put back on at least ten times. Our house now smells rich with Christmas and will smell even better after I bake five dozen cookies this week for a cookie exchange!

The lovely tree outside my bedroom window...

Can't sleep

2008-11-13T05:04:00.000-08:00

The clock says 5:04 am. What a bummer that is... especially since I didn't go bed until midnight. I slept great for the first four and a half hours, but then something woke me up and I just laid there wide eyed after that. This doesn't happen to me all that often, if you don't count when my son is in bed with me kicking like he's pedaling in a bike race. But it happens when I'm not feeling well or when something is on my mind. At this point, I've got a little of both going on. Stomach is not great, head is full of thoughts! What are they? Well, we made an offer on a house last night and I'll tell you more about that later. Otherwise, I've just got random questions popping into my head... what is wrong with my stomach? Is my mom ok? Are we going to make Landon's doctor appointment on time? Why did I make the appointment so early? Is it still raining? Should I go back to bed? I hope I don't wake the kids... I just sneezed like six times. Man, I'm gonna be tired today!

Sorry, but I'm commited

2008-11-07T08:54:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, while cruising around on Facebook, my heart sank a little when I read the phrase, "I f*****g hate Christians" (only with the actual "F word" spelled out). It was a reaction to the passing of California's proposition 8 last week from a guy I went to high school with. I felt a lot of things when I read the colorful words, but mostly just sorrow. Flat out sadness in my heart! I know he made the comment out of pain and anger, and, as a gay man, I can honestly understand why he would be cross with the situation. But I wish that he knew just how tremendously I, a Christian, love the gay people in my life. If I remember correctly, Christians were also referred to as "f*****g haters" somewhere in the stream of conversation following his outburst. And I can't help but think that somewhere along the line there has been a very serious misunderstanding between Christians and Gays. What the gay community interprets as "hate" is actually the act of supreme follow-though. Unadulterated obedience to a God we've made a commitment to. You know what? I am even willing to admit that I wish I didn't have to submit to the Lord this area... I would love to be able to support my homosexual friends and family members wholeheartedly without any concern about whether or not their lifestyle was "right" or "wrong", but for the Christian that is simply not a reality. To ask me to do that is to ask me to abandon a commitment I've made. To abandon my beliefs for the sake of your sexuality. How is that right? Christians love and serve a God who, in his supreme authority, created woman for man and simply asks us to follow his pristine design for our lives. When I committed my heart to God, I made a vow to honor his word, whether I like it or not (and whether you like it or not). It's called obedience. Yes, I have questions for him, but I won't get the answers by turning my back on his word, that's for sure. So, if you are reading this and you are gay (especially if you are my friend or relative), please just know that I love you and you are so important to me. I love being your friend, I love being your cousin, I love doing life with you and I want to support your choices, but that would mean breaking a commitment that I take very seriously. Whatever you do, please don't hate me because I am a Christian. Thank you!

What do I value?

2008-11-05T14:50:00.000-08:00

My cousin tagged me for this game and I have to say that it got me thinking. I'm supposed to write about six things I value and six things I do not value, then name the people I want to tag next. But I'm just going to say if you read this and you are looking for something to write about today, go ahead and use this:

I value....

1. Marriage. It has changed my life and molded me in so many ways. Because I chose to marry who I did, I have been blessed with a companion whom I can honestly call my very best friend, and two awesome children who I love being mommy to. Marriage was the start of my family and my family is amazing!

2. Scripture. Where would I be without it?

3. Technology. Although I shutter at the thought of what man has become capable of, I am thankful for things like email, telephones, cars and airplanes. These are the things that have softened the blow of living long distances from people I love. Also, without our great advances in medical technology, neither of my children would be alive today.

4. Time for hobbies. Crocheting, scrap booking, and writing are just a few of mine. These are the things that I do to relax. They calm my nerves and allow my body to heal from everyday stress. Setting aside time to do these things is important to the settling of my spirit.

5. Clean air. I wish cigarettes would be banned.

6. Change. Although it can be scary, it is necessary. I like change. Growing up I moved my furniture around in my room constantly. I love to change my hair. I love trying new foods. Recently I changed my deodorant after almost twenty years! When Andy and I decided to move out of state, it was because we needed change... change can be a great thing.

I Do not value...

1. Lying. Why lie? I just don't get people who lie and I pray that I am able to help my kids understand that honesty is always the right choice.

2. Any person who would deliberately mistreat a child in any way. If I truly told you how I feel about those people I'd resort to foul language and death threats.

3. Spiders. With the exception of Charlotte, I hate them all.

4. Hypocrisy. Now I do believe that, at one point or another, we are all hypocrites. But in light of the recent political hype, I wanted to mention this. These past couple of months I saw a lot of people who claim to be advocates of peace and equity getting down right dirty towards anyone who dared to disagree with them.

5. Poopy diapers. While I am thankful that my children have healthy bodies that function properly, I am sick of changing diapers.

6. Sin. It's dark, it's ugly, and it pulls us all down (although, this can be seen as an umbrella for all of the above... well, except maybe for poopy diapers and spiders. I may hate them, but I guess they do have their place in this world).

Every baby deserves a chance

2008-10-30T15:43:00.000-07:00

The video you will see if you click the link below may be painful for some. It was for me. But, none-the-less, I encourage you to take the time to watch it and give this very important issue some thought. I am truly thankful to Alissa for taking the time to make this video. This matter is near and dear to my heart and I am so blessed by it and glad I watched the whole thing. I hope and pray that you will do the same and search your conscience in the matter. My three year old son was born at just 25 weeks gestation (that's three and a half months early) and weighed less then two lbs. I did not choose for him to be born so early, obviously, but my body forced me into extremely early labor. My sweet boy would not have survived this without the amazing medical team that was there to rescue him. He fought hard to survive and to this day we could not be more proud of our son. He is an amazing child! Having said that, I believe that every baby who survives birth, by mom's choice or not, deserves the chance to fight, just like my son did. It sickens me to think that anyone would not agree. This is why I am passing this video on to you. You need to see it... now! Please do not wait and say you'll watch it later because chances are you won't get around to it and this is too important to ignore. I could go on and on, but please, just take the time to watch this.

Thank you,

Veronica

Click the link below:http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=45483629

Jonah

2008-10-22T08:15:00.000-07:00

Beautiful boy, amazing and bold

Your incredible journey will be told

You made your mommy and daddy smile

Held on long enough to hold them a while

As challenging as it may have been

Your life had a purpose and God had a plan

Your perseverance touched many a heart

Each one blessed by your courageous start

We thank the Lord for ceasing your pain

An earthly loss, but a heavenly gain

Your head rests quietly now on his chest

a place that we all agree is the best

Hearts are aching and tears abound

But Jonah Scott, you are safe and sound

For Jonah Scott Goodman 5/14/08 - 10/21/08

God's direction

2008-10-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

It's so early. Okay it's 7:00am, not that early. But it's still fairly dark outside, as dawn creeps in ever so slow. Our apartment complex is backed by a towering grove of pines, protecting it from the sunlight that's trying to awaken the day. Everyone else in my house is asleep and I sorely want to crawl back in bed, but a matter of circumstances (which I won't go into) prompted me out of bed and obedience begs me to stay up and make use of the silence.

I've been praying a little this morning. Praying for a number of issues weighing down my heart... but mostly I've just been trying to reflect on how much I know God loves me and wants the best for me. It's so hard to believe that sometimes, but it's true, regardless of whether I feel it or not! God wants to bless me, he wants give me the desires of my heart, but he will always do what is right for me and that doesn't always line up with what I want for myself. Recently we have been exploring the idea of buying a house. We found one that we like and it needs a lot of work. However, we are pondering an offer. It's an older home on the outskirts of town. In fact, you could go so far as to say it's "out in the country," but it's not too far out. The property includes an acre+ of land, with the perfect portion of it fenced in for kids. On Sunday we spent an hour and a half at the empty house with our realtor. She is now trying to find out as much as she can about the house, so we can make an informed decision. There is much to consider, especially on the financial end. And since neither of us are experts in recognizing the Lord's voice, we prayed that he would basically slam a door in our face if this wasn't the house for us. If that doesn't happen, then we will move forward and see what happens. We may not be able to afford this place with all the repairs we'd want to do, but we are honestly okay either way because we know that the Lord will only allow what is best for us. If this doesn't pan out, another house will come. It probably won't be on an acre of land out in the country, but.... ?

Another "what if" that's been looming above us is a possible promotion for Andy! His boss has had more important issues on her plate, so filling the position has not been a priority and the waiting is driving us crazy. In our minds we really need this, but again, God is in control! He had a meeting yesterday, not specifically about the position, but it came up. She didn't promise him anything, but the conversation seemed to suggest that it was definitely a possibility. We are anxious for an answer, but patient at the same time, if that makes any sense. God's timing is always perfect. To be honest with you my own personal anxiety comes mostly from a desire to see my husband succeed. If he were to get this promotion my biggest joy will come from hearing the sound in his voice when he tells me and the knowledge that he was blessed and rewarded for his hard work.

Having said all of that, what I really wanted to do this morning was share some scripture that my mother-n-law gave me yesterday. She wasn't kidding when she said it was "for us". We've been praying, although not nearly enough, and we certainly have not been turning to the word like we should be. Here's the scripture:

James 1:5-8
If you need wisdom-if you want to know what God wants you to do-ask him, and he will gladly tell you. He will not resent your asking. But when you ask him be sure that you really expect him to answer, for a doubtful mind is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. People like that should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. They can't make up their minds. They waver back and forth in everything they do.

Ephesians 3:14-21
When I think of the wisdom and scope of God's plan, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that form his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you mighty inner strength through his Holy Spirit And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God's marvelous love. And may you have the power to understand, as all God's people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it. Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God. Now glory be to God! By his mighty power at work within us, he is able to accomplish infinitely more then we would ever dare to ask or hope. May he be given the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus forever and ever through endless ages. Amen.

(Thanks Carol!)

Time for change

2008-10-04T09:47:00.001-07:00

Suriving abortion. Wow.

2008-09-23T14:49:00.000-07:00

Very early this morning I opened my lap top and was greeted on the home page by a story about protecting the rights of babies who survive abortion. This story, of coarse, had something to do with Obama and McCain (their positions on this), but that's not what caught my eye. I browsed the article, which by the way I cannot find now that I am looking for it, and was shocked to visit the thought that babies sometimes live through this disgusting and heartless procedure! I suppose I was "aware" that this was possible, but just never really stopped to think about what exactly that means. It means that the infant had to of been far enough in development to show signs of life after a failed attempt to kill him or her. This thought, at least for me, is appalling and I cannot believe that there actually has to be a vote on whether or not these children have the right to be potentially rescued after the failed murder. The article also mentions a woman, a motivational speaker, who is the survivor of a failed abortion. Wow. That just floors me to try and wrap my brain around!