So long baby face

The other day it happened.

The turning point in a young boy's life.

The crossing over from babyhood into the world of adulthood.

My son lost his first baby tooth.

My youngest, my little boy, is becoming a man-in his mouth anyway.

He is the youngest of my children.

My "last little guy"-as I often refer to him- turned six last month, and I thought that was difficult.  Now this?!!

Right before he turned six, I asked him if he would stay five forever.  I asked him for lots of "five year old hugs" because soon he would be six.

He told me six year old hugs were better, because they have six things of love in them instead of five.

I really loved five year old hugs.

But I guess six year old ones are good too.

I really thought it was only a few weeks ago that I held his screaming, squalling body in my arms(the kid screamed for the first six months of his life!).   Now he surfs the games on the internet faster than I can, reads, writes, and looses teeth.

What the stinkin' heck?!

My children are all growing so quickly.  Those days that seemed to drag on forever have turned into years that somehow have passed by in a blink. 

I enjoy being home with my children, although some days... It's not always sunshine and candy, let's just leave it at that.  I am ever aware though that one day, sooner than I'd like, they will be grown and gone. 

So today I will enjoy them, in spite of their constant bickering with one another.

 Today we will color Easter eggs(or spring spheres, I guess that's the new politically correct term) and make rice krispie treats(is it still OK to call them that, or maybe there is a new PC term for that one too).

Today I will look at my last little guy's empty spot where his tooth once was and feel content as I walk with him-and my other children-on this journey from childhood to adulthood.

It kills you to see them grow up.  But I guess it would kill you quicker if they didn't.  ~Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams



It is a bitter-sweet journey, but one I wouldn't trade for the world.

Thanks for reading.

Comfort in a song

I have had it with this past week. 

I mean it. 

I'm glad it's over and even more glad that it's never coming back.

Good riddance evil week.

What made this past week so awful, you ask?  Well, nothing in particular.

 Just your garden variety of disappointments, pressures, frustrations, unpleasant surprises, things I HATE don't like to deal with,  attitudes, rudeness, mouth pain, dentist appointments,  and and and...

In short- life.

As I was driving today an old song from my CD started playing.

Come, ye weary, heavy laden, lost and ruined by the fall,
If you tarry 'til you're better, you will never come at all.

Come, ye sinner, poor and needy, weak and wounded, sick and sore,
Jesus ready stands to save you, full of pity, love, and power.

Oh yes, this is the song I needed.
I have been so weary with the busy nature of our lives.   I have been heavy laden with the pressures of schooling and parenting the children.  I have fallen out of grace and become lost due to my lack of understanding concerning some situations. 

I considered praying about it.  But I didn't think these were big enough problems to take to Jesus.  I could probably handle these little things.

 I thought I could  shake it off.

Pull myself together.

Stop, drop and roll or something. 

It was like I was saying, "No, that's  OK God, I got this."

Only I didn't. 

Not at all. 

I am starting to realize that if I wait  until I am better-until I can fix those things that are bothering me- to come to the Lord, I am never going to go to Him at all. 

After this week, I'm feeling  weak and wounded, sick and sore.  I would really like to just go lay down in a large hole and cover myself.

Hide myself away from everyone and everything.

I have found myself in desperate need of the saving power and love of Jesus.

So I sang along with the chorus, and starting to think that putting these words into practice might just be a good idea.  I also started to think that maybe-just maybe-God was trying to tell me something through this song.

I will arise and go to Jesus, he will embrace me in his arms

In the arms of my dear saviour, oh, there are ten thousand charms.

I wonder if there are any others who-like me- allow all those "little things" we think we can handle to pile up until we are crushed under the weight of them. 

Maybe I'm the only one.

I kinda doubt it though.

Maybe you feel like you can't come to Jesus with a particular thing. 

Maybe you think it's too insignificant. 

Maybe you think it's too shameful. 

Maybe you think there is no solution.

 Maybe a lot of reasons.

But you can arise and go to Jesus and He will embrace you in His arms.

Nothing is too impossible or too insignificant or too anything in between for Him to care about.

I Peter 5:7
Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.

So, here I go...

*lyrics are from
 I will arise and go to Jesus
written by Joseph Hart

It's that time of year again.  The time of year that strikes fear straight into my heart.   The time of year that leaves me questioning my abilities.  The time of year where excitement, promise, fear and indecisiveness all roll up into one big ball in my stomach. 

It's time to choose curriculum for each child for the next school year. 

Being that I'm going into my 8th year of homeschooling, one would think I had it all figured out.  One would be wrong. 

VERY wrong.

 Every year around this time, I face the same dilemma.  What science should I get?  Is this History going to work for us?  How important is spelling anyway (isn't that what they make spell check for).  Must I really buy Cursive instruction?  The only thing I write out anymore are those long forms I am required to fill out at the Doctor's office, and they demand that I print.

The pressure I put on myself  is intense.
 
For the last five years, my friend and I have stumbled walked down this road together.  We would peruse various catalogs,   browse through websites, read message boards and reviews of any curricula that looked interesting.  The last couple of years we've even went to a huge homeschooling exhibit hall full of different curriculum vendors.  Even when she had figured out what she needed for her children, she would be stuck processing out all of my choices with me (not a task for the fainthearted).  I'm extremely slightly indecisive.  It's also her job to keep me from buying things I'll never use, but somehow think I need.

 It's so hard to choose when you enter a hall like the this one.
 

 

These fairs can actually be helpful, but for those of us who are helplessly a little indecisive, they can be quite overwhelming.  Thankfully I have a friend to hold my hand go with me (my poor poor friend). 

She's a good friend.

I'm convinced that there are as many curriculum choices as there are stars in the sky.  Every last one says they are THE best.   I mean  if you should choose a different curriculum other than theirs, your children may not  learn, they will they will not grow into responsible adults, their brains will liquefy and be rendered useless.  Choosing each year proves to be an exhausting task. 

There are some aspects about it that aren't so bad.  I enjoy seeing what new things have come out since last year.  I do  enjoy choosing the books that the children and I will read together.

And once I decide, I feel excited to order and get our things so I can start looking through it all.  When the order comes, I get almost giddy.  I love the smell of new books.  Those are good parts. 

But I'm not there yet. 

Not even close.

I'm still in spastic-whirlwind-what am I doing-mode.

At the end of the day though,  I'm grateful that I have the option to choose the curriculum to match my children's learning styles, activities that interest them, and stories that we can all learn with together.

In the end, it's worth it. 

I bet the things I choose this year will make my children run down the stairs each morning begging me to begin school right away.  I may even have to force them to play some of the time.  They will be so into our schooling day. 

Yea, I'm a bit delusional.

Realistically, I'm hoping  that there will be less days that end this way

Prayers are much appreciated.

Thanks for reading.

*cartoons are from Todd Wilson-Familyman Ministries.

Under the rug

So I was doing some much needed cleaning today and, the phrase "sweeping it under the rug" took on a whole new meaning. 

I was down on my hands and knees wiping the doggie paw prints off my kitchen floor when I saw a small wrapper sticking halfway out from under the rug.  As I wiped underneath to get that one wrapper my rag became covered in more dirt.  I thought maybe there might be just a few more things under there.  I moved the rug and was shocked at my discovery.  Who knew that dirt and fur and rubber bands, and puzzle pieces and Lego's and and and...could all  find their way under one rug???  I was sure, no POSITIVE I had cleaned under that rug over a year ago  just last week. 

So  I swept and cleaned filled a dumpster with the things out from under that rug.  It was then that I started to think and decided to take a break and write about it.

Yea, any excuse to stop cleaning and do something else.  Does writing about cleaning count as an actual chore? 

Anyway, today I started thinking about how I have "swept things under the rug" in my own life.  Some things I did not want to deal with about myself (sweep). Some past hurts that I chose not to address(sweep).  Some behaviors that really needed changing, but I didn't want to face them (sweep).  Attitudes that needed some major adjusting, but the adjusting seemed too difficult and painful a task (sweep).  Those were just a few of the pieces of dirt and gunk in my life that had piled up under the rug.

The thing I noticed yesterday about dirt, items, and gunk that find their way under those rugs is that they  don't clean up after themselves.  They just stay under there until maybe someone steps on a Lego that's underneath, ends up with an indentation in their foot, and decides to clean it all out.  Sometimes the gunk even starts to sneak out from underneath the rug, showing itself  to everyone (rather embarrassing). 

The same is true with the gunk I have swept under the rug in my life.  It  has become quite the pile.  Sometimes I've "stepped" on a thing or two under there and hurt myself.  There have been times that gunk has even crept out from underneath the rug for all the world to see.  My attitude becomes impatient.  I feel a little less compassion for those who have hurt my feelings.  Issues I choose not to deal with create a defeated mindset and keep me from having peace in my life and being a blessing to others.  It is a dirty hot mess under there!

 I think it just may be time I take a good long look at some of those things and determine to allow the Holy Spirit to clean up the mess.  My heart and mind need a little rug shakin' and floor sweepin'. 

Psalm 51:10
 Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Guess I'd better fasten my seatbelt.  It just may be a bumpy ride.

Thanks for reading!

Cover me up please

Blankies.  I love ‘em.  I was not a “Linus” when I was a kid.  I didn’t have a special blankie to carry around with me.  But now as an adult if I could get away with it… 

OK.  Maybe I wouldn’t, but Blankies always make me feel cozy-inside and out.  If I’m feeling a bit vulnerable or sad, I cuddle up in a blankie and I feel safe and secure. 

Recently I came across and old quilt of mine.  It is so tattered and torn up.   It brought back so many memories when I found it. 

In my family, my father’s mother was called  MAMAW.  My Mamaw was a very special person in my life.  She was 69 years old when I was born, but growing up I never knew she was “old”.  She was poor in finances, but rich in love.  I would stay with her for weeks in the summertime, and we would talk and talk and talk and... well, you get the picture.

We were not close because she spent money on me, or took me places.  She actually had a heart condition that limited our activity together.  We were close because she was available to me.  Always present.  Always listening to what I had to say, and never too busy to have me over so we could spend time together.  She was my buddy.  

She died when I was 16, and I was devastated.  I still miss her.    But I have something from her that allows me to feel close to her and the relationship we shared.

When I was 10 years old, my mamaw made me a quilt.  Like I’ve mentioned, she did not have much money, but she took the extra materials she had and pieced together a full size quilt for my 10^th birthday.  She also made a small one for my doll.

This was such a special gift, because my mamaw had arthritis in her hands.  It was a  tie quilt, so after she put all the squares together, she tied all the little knots throughout the blanket.  I knew it must have taken her many hours to make, and how difficult it must have been for her hands.

 The reason that quilt today is so tattered and torn up isn’t so much that it’s 27 years old, but because it was my  “blankie” for years.   

After she passed away, I would snuggle up in that quilt to feel close to her.  It made me feel as warm and secure as she always made me feel. 

My mother’s mother we called Grandma.  My grandma was a quiet woman who showed love to her family in a very different way than my mamaw did.  My grandma would bake pies and treats for us kids every time we would go to visit her.  I was not as close to her, because she was not as open with her life.  I knew she loved me, and I loved her as well,  but our relationship was not close. 

One thing that my grandma did to show her love for every member of her family was to crochet afghans.  When any family member got married, she made them an afghan.  When any family member had a baby, she made that new baby an afghan.   

As an adult, I have come to understand that by making treats and blankies for her family, my grandma was telling us what she didn’t feel like she could say with words.  She was telling us that we were important to her;  that she valued us; that she loved us.

That was her way.  

Now when I grab the afghan off the rack to cuddle up with and read, I remember her gift.  I also remember that sometimes love is given in ways that are not always the way we may give love, but it's love given all the same.

This past Christmas I got a gift from my Mama(also known as my mother in law).    

This woman knows me inside, outside and upside-downside.  She has covered me in love through some pretty awful times in my life.  She is a true treasure.  

  Every week she has our family along with my sister in law’s family over for dinner.  Most every week, at some point after dinner, you will find many of us crashed out on Mama’s bed watching Sponge Bob or Chopped (two of the family’s favorites).

 Every week  prior to Christmas I had been commenting on Mama’s  soft, warm, cozy blanket.  If I had a particularly tough week, on Friday night after dinner,  I would head straight for that bed and crawl under that cozy blanket.  I was pretty certain that blanket had special powers that would snuff out every awful thing. 

Yea, I know.  I have issues.  But most of us do, so don’t be a hater.

SO, back to this past Christmas.  When I opened my gifts I found my Mama had bought me the very same cozy, soft, warm, special-powers, awful-thing-snuffing-out blanket.

  I was pretty sure I heard angels singing when I tore it open. 

I climb under that blankie every night.  When I have a bad day, under the blankie I go and hide all of life’s yuckiness underneath.  It makes me feel warm and cozy and loved. 

Blankies remind me of Psalm 91:4

 He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

Blankies, for me, are a physical representation of the covering of God.  His protection.  Our refuge. His great love for us.

What about you my faithful readers (all three of you)?  What reminds you of God's protection and love?

May we all be reminded that in life's trials or just the daily grind, we are covered.

Thanks for reading.

Hope

This morning I was remembering a very dark evening.  I have suffered with a severe anxiety disorder for several years now, and also bipolar disorder.    But I won't go into detail about that.  

Maybe another day. 

Today I'm remembering this one particularly awful night.  I felt completely hopeless, as though I couldn't find any reason for my exsistence.  As I prayed that evening, the Lord gave to me hope.  Hope that not every night would be this hard.  Hope that He would bring me through any difficulty I would face.  Hope that His strength and love would be sufficient in my weakness.  That evening I wrote Hope Whispers.  My prayer is that it will remind others when they are struggling, that if we are still enough we can hear the whisper of Hope.



Hope whispers.

Night surrounds, darkness is deep
Thoughts are racing, no rest or sleep
Peace eludes and waits afar
No tranquility in the reservoir

Yet in the distance, hear the sound
A faint whisper of hope is found
Voice is heard, though soft may be
Speaking words so quietly

Hold on now, hold on tight
Hold on to me throughout this night
Morning's love will bring the light
Hold on now hold on tight

Tears are falling as a torrent
life itself seems abhorrent
famine, sorrow, desolation
where is hope where is salvation

In this darkness black and bleak
No words can adequately speak
About the absence of the light
This impenetrable night

Yet in the distance, ever nearer
Hope is speaking, slightly clearer
Voice is heard with growing clarity
Whispering with familiarity

Hold on now, hold on tight
Hold on to me throughout this night
Morning's love will bring the light
Hold on now hold on tight

Sorrow, laughter like the tide
On the crest of waves they ride
Ebbing flowing each new day
Keeps the heart's response at bay

At gloaming, it will then begin
The battle raging from within
Equanimity lost in night
Searching, grasping for some light

Yet not far off a sound is heard
Desperation is deferred
By the love hope's portraying
In the words it is now saying

Hold on now, hold on tight
Hold on to me throughout this night
Morning's love will bring the light
Hold on now hold on tight

Ever closer hope approaches
Black of night hope encroaches
Dispelling darkness of the night
Beam by beam of love's great light

Bursting through the hopeless hollow
Illuminating the way to follow
The path to love, now in sight
Darkness driven out by light

When darkness comes this way once more
When despair washes up to shore
Hope is never far behind
Whispering words into the mind

Hope's arms surround, hands cup the face
To turn toward the sky of grace
Turn to the One true Light above
Whose voice is whispering with love

Hold on now, hold on tight
Hold on to me throughout this night
Morning's love will bring the light
Hold on now hold on tight

Today

Very recently someone I love very much passed away.  While I rejoice that she is no longer in pain, I miss her terribly.

She was a mom to me.

Years ago she took me into her family and cared for me.  There was never a time when I needed her that she was not there.  She considered me a part of her family and I considered her a part of mine.

In an attempt to grieve her loss, I've written about a few ways she has touched my life.

I love you mama.

Forever and for always.

Today

(written for Mama Paula)

Today I remember the first time we met

The first time I really saw you

The first time I met you as mama, I guess

The first time I experienced your love

You were sitting in a chair waiting for me

Waiting until the prayers were through

Waiting until I dried my face

Waiting to ask me to come home with you

When we came to your home, you held me 

You held me while I cried

You held me while I yelled

You held me even while I slept

The next morning you made me breakfast

You made me malt o meal

You made me coffee and toast

You made me feel welcome and loved

From that day forward things had changed

Changed because you were always there to talk to me

Changed because you were always there to hold me

Changed because you were always there to love me

Today I remember the long nights you stayed awake

Stayed awake to rock me while I cried

Stayed awake to listen to me pour out my heart

Stayed awake to pray

You endured my self destruction and covered me

Covered me with faithfulness

Covered me with hope

Covered me with love

You looked not at me, but through me with your eyes

Your eyes that saw my pain 

Your eyes that saw my longing

Your eyes that saw my potential

You poured out your life into mine

Your hope into my heart

Your faith into my soul

Your love into my whole being

Today I remember all you have been to me

All you have given

All you have taught

All you have told me

Today I remember your faith

Faith to weather any storm

Faith to know God is holding you

Faith to never give up

Today I remember the first day we met 

Today I remember the last time I kissed you goodbye

Today I promise to never forget what you've taught me

Today I promise to keep your love in my heart for ever and for always

Kim Jenne

8/2010