could YOU be the luckiest one of all?

Having been a kindergarten teacher in my pre-children life, I have an affinity for quality children’s books. In our countless hours of reading together my kids and I have discovered certain authors that we can count on to deliver a good book, and one of those such authors is Bill Peet. With simple, sweet illustrations, meaningful stories and sometimes rhyming verse, his stories capture our attention and laughter. One of my favorites is The Caboose That Got Loose, but recently we encountered a new one that painted for me a vibrant revelation.

“The Luckiest One of All” begins with a little boy sprawled out high up in a Sycamore tree. This is a very familiar sight to me, as whenever I can’t find my eldest son I’ve learned to first look up in the tallest tree around. This little boy in the story says that he would much prefer to be a bird with the ability to be free and fly high in the sky without limits.  According to the boy the bird is definitely the luckiest of all. But on the next page the bird tells us that in reality he has a difficult life, having to constantly work building nests and finding food. He would much rather be a fish, passing the day in a lazy, blissful state. He declares that the water gliding, bubble blowing fish must be the luckiest one of all. But then we meet the sad looking fish and find out that he is in a constant state of panic and anxiety, worrying if every worm he eats is attached to a hook, and constantly looking behind him for larger fish wishing to make him their next meal. He is convinced that the turtle is the luckiest one of all, with the ability to pop into his protective shell at the slightest sign of danger. But the turtle, tired of lugging his heavy load would rather be light and free like the frog; the frog, discontent with his croak would rather have a nicer sounding voice like a lion, and so on and so on until on the very last page we come full circle ending with the same little boy, as another animal believes HIM to be the luckiest one of all.

This book  stopped me in my tracks. How often do we do this? How often do we convince ourselves that someone else is the luckiest one of all? If I could only live in her house, have her gifts, have her family, have her income, have her body, have her hair, have her personality, have her “easier” life, THEN everything would be awesome. And I would be so very happy.

I suddenly realized that I could have been sketched onto a page in this book as a day popped into my mind from a year ago May. I was toting our 3 boys in my van to pick up our daughter from school. And I felt utterly exhausted, overwhelmed and defeated. Not to mention the fact that I was getting very little sleep at night, I had spent the day trying to soothe a very fussy newborn with an extremely loud scream and calm a 2 1/2 year old throwing countless fits (also with an extremely loud scream), all while trying to homeschool an eight year old who apparently had much more important things to be doing than the lessons I had planned for him and did everything in his power to make this clear to me. In my van that afternoon, nerves shot, I had to remind myself to keep on breathing. I longed for peacefulness. For a quiet moment when I wasn’t feeling demanded of and pulled in several directions, a moment in which I didn’t need to solve a problem. Allowing the air to slowly fill up my lungs, I looked out at the beautiful hills and caught sight of a sweet friend from my Bible Study group, Stephanie. Riding her bike down a hill surrounded by trees. ALONE. QUIET. PEACEFUL. Looking so cute in her sweater cardigan atop her yellow beach cruiser, she appeared so free. And for a split second I found myself wishing that I could be her. Have her life. Have the ability to ride my bike alone down a hill in a cute cardigan without a care in the world. She really must be the luckiest one of all.

And that is when reality smacked me square across the face, leaving a red mark that stung all the way to my core. Stephanie, you see, has been in the adoption process for years, trying to bring her son home from far across the ocean. Riding around without a care in the world? A life much easier than mine? Hardly. If she had seen me drive by, it is possible that SHE  would have longed to trade places with ME. To have her son (or 3) strapped in a carseat behind her instead of in an orphanage worlds away. To be able to be the one to dry his tears. The one to calm his tantrums. The one to decide what he got to eat that day and have the luxury of being the one who got to clean up after him. The one to choose his activities for the day. The one to cover him with kisses and embraces, even if in the middle of the night.

Seeing Stephanie alone that day was a much needed reminder to me that although my current reality had exhausting challenges, it was also filled to the brim with luxurious blessings.

And sometimes it’s not just circumstances that we envy.

Recently two of my kids have made displeased comments regarding their physical appearance.

My 9 year old son, returning from church, was crying because a girl from his Sunday School class had called him short. Sobbing, he looked so distraught, wishing that he could be taller and bigger. But as his mom, I felt my insides exploding. This boy! Fastest runner in his class. Better pitcher than I will ever be even in my wildest of dreams. So coordinated that we allow him to use saws and hammers. Climbs trees so high it takes my breath away. Does tricks on his bicycle that make my jaw drop. This May got invited to a special lunch with the principal for not missing one single day of school all year in third grade. Which made me realize that he never missed a day for being sick in kindergarten, first or second grade either. A boy who can try any sport and instantly be able to play it well. This amazing, strong, healthy, athletic body that God created to function so incredibly well. A body that his mama would call absolutely perfect.

Yet he’s crying to be taller?? WHAT???

And my beautiful daughter, after I told her recently that she is exactly the daughter I had always wanted, responded with, “But wouldn’t you rather have a girl with longer, thicker hair?”AUGHGHHHH!!!! EXCUSE ME??? What did you just say? I would LOVE to have those pale yellow curls! In my mind she is absolutely perfect, but because she has good friends who are blessed with long, thick hair, she feels like she could be a little better and a little prettier if her hair were just a little thicker. And a little longer.

When I realized how appalled and dumbfounded I felt, hearing that my incredible kids wanted to change something about themselves, and how ludicrous it sounded to me, it showed me a tiny glimpse of maybe what God feels as our Father, when we resent pieces of ourselves. My kids only grew in my womb. But God? He actually CREATED us. How much more must it grieve Him to watch us hating aspects about ourselves that He actually CHOSE for us?

As bystanders, we can see how silly it is for a turtle to wish that he could jump, because we appreciate his strong solid shell of beautiful textures and colors. How much happier would that turtle be if, instead of wishing he could function like a different animal, he would thankfully focus on his own unique gifts and just be the best turtle he could be?

I think one way we can have more gratitude for the intricate, specific way that God made us and for the life that He chose for us is to intentionally recognize our individual giftings. I recently did a fabulous Bible Study on Gideon by Priscila Shirer, in which she asked us to name our gifts. After staring at the page for a while, I finally left it blank.

After I graduated from college, young and full of possibility, I probably could have filled up an entire page listing my gifts. But after being a stay at home mother for 9 1/2 years, my days spent doing many things I’m not particularly great at, including cooking, laundry, cleaning and running a home, I realized that I had completely lost sight of the gifts that God had created me to display.

But Priscila made it clear how crucial it is to recognize our gifts, so I spent some time praying and really digging deep, determined to uncover this buried treasure. I thought about things that I enjoy, things that make me feel alive, and also things that people have told me that I’m good at. I came up with a short list, and it hit me that things like writing thank-you cards and notes of encouragement and giving gifts and hosting showers and other events to bless people aren’t just hobbies, but are actually spiritual gifts. Concretely naming these things as such has completely changed the way I see them and do them. Now that I consider them my spiritual gifts, I can throw a birthday lunch for a friend or a baby shower for a woman from my Bible Study and feel in my soul that I am using my spiritual gifts and serving the Lord. It has given me a sense of purpose and importance.

What about you? What are your special gifts that make you the unique person that God created? I encourage you to think through this question, write down what you come up with, and pray about a way you can use these gifts to serve the Lord, to serve other people and to further His Kingdom. Cooking? Cleaning? Art? Organizing? Sports? Music? Words of Encouragement? Hospitality? Gardening? Any gift can be “spiritual” if used for His glory, which is what it was intended for in the first place.

My prayer for you and me is that unlike the characters in Bill Peet’s book, we are able to give thanks today for our current season of life. That we may see in new light the specific gifts the Father has blessed us with and find new ways to use them unto His beautiful glory. That we would fully and completely embody who He has made us to be. That we wouldn’t waste our lives envying the gifts He has given to someone else, blinding us to the good work He has begun in US. That we would live out our OWN purpose joyfully and gratefully in the boldest of colors.

I wonder how would this world be different if each one of us lived our lives convinced that WE are the luckiest one of all?

 

***As an aside, Stephanie (the cute, carefree girl on the bike) and her husband Justin are SO close to bringing their son home and are currently raising money to purchase very expensive plane tickets to go get him. If you feel led to support them, they will write your name in his suitcase so you can travel with them. They plan to later use this suitcase to store items from his home country, sharing with him not just his cultural heritage, but also all of the people who helped unite him with his family and who loved him without even meeting him. If you have a desire to be a part of this, please go to their blog):

http://nunespartyofthree.blogspot.com/2014/04/tag-his-bag.html

Happy Birthday Peter Rabbit Style

They say that one of the best ways to really learn something is to teach it. I have found that to be true with blogging. After writing about something that God has laid on my heart, I find myself even more compelled to live out that what I have written. I don’t want to be writing one thing and then living a completely different way.

Therefore, as I was recently preparing for my  baby’s first birthday party, I continually found “And The Hostess is Wearing Pajamas” coming to mind.  So when I woke up to rain on the day of the party which I had planned to completely be outside….. when Andrew kept tracking muddy footprints on the floors that I was trying so diligently to mop….. when Peter skillfully pulled down every book on his bookshelf right before the guests arrived…… I had a track on repeat in my mind, “Focus on hospitality, not entertaining. Perfection is not going to bless your guests more. This is about Peter’s birthday, not a perfect home. They’re not here to see you, they’re here to see God.”

It’s not everyday that one gets to celebrate their 4th child’s 1st birthday, so I wanted to make it special and memorable. But I was glad to be kept in check as to my intentions and my heart.

Since Andrew was born two days after Halloween we celebrated his first birthday with a pumpkin party. As Peter was born at the end of April, my party planner (AKA my seven year old daughter) and I decided that we should do a Spring-y theme for his party. For months we brainstormed…….Flowers and Butterflies were too girly. Bumblebees? The Very Hungry Caterpillar? And then suddenly, a couple of months ago it hit me. I knew instantly that it was a winner. PETER RABBIT!!!! It used his name. Bunnies are the perfect symbol of Spring. It had the old fashioned, timeless feel that I so love. Party planner agreed. Peter Rabbit it was.

So since my vision for this blog was to tell my “God stories” and also to inspire other mamas in every area of life, I thought I would share Peter’s party with you, in hopes that you will be inspired, if even in the tiniest of ways.

One of my very favorite parts of the party was the photo booth. I’ve heard of parties having these and I’ve always wanted to create one.  So right when we decided on the theme I got to work painting these fence pickets my favorite color, turquoise. Yes, my yard is the kind of place where one can find random fence pickets from who knows where.

I then made a very simple banner by cutting out scrapbooking paper in my favorite colors and prints in the same size triangles, punching holes at roughly the same place on top, and threading twine through the holes. It was SO easy and I just loved how it looked!      

Since the beloved story of Peter Rabbit takes place mainly in a garden, I tried creating a “garden feel.” I found these crates at a garage sale the week before the party, I borrowed the watering can from a great neighbor and bought the veggies from the grocery store. I also had other props nearby that I could easily grab, like my yellow bench, the huge picture frame I painted yellow, and a little turquoise chair.

 

These two little boys are absolute kindred spirits. They spend their days crawling after each other laughing and shrieking and I can’t even imagine them being better buddies.

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I let the guests know ahead of time of my plans to take pictures, in case they wanted to plan outfits accordingly. I also suggested that they bring along play clothes to change into afterward, as my backyard is a place where kids tend to get a little messy. (Okay, VERY messy. I mean, trash your clothes kind of messy.)

We had a great time with the photo booth and my friends expressed their appreciation for the opportunity to have family pictures taken.

Having been a kindergarten teacher in my past life (yes, nine years ago feels like another lifetime), I love planning fun kid activities. Since we decided to keep the party small and less overwhelming for Peter, we only invited families with kids close to Peter’s age. Therefore, the event was geared toward young children, although I was surprised by how much the older kids enjoyed everything as well.

I started out by reading the story of Peter Rabbit, so that the rest of our activities and decorations would make sense to them. Why is there a watering can on the cake? Why are there terra-cotta pots everywhere? Why did we take pictures in a fake garden? The book explains it all.

After the book, Grace and I taught the kids the song that we had made up for the party. Using the tune of Little Bunny Foo Foo, which I learned back in my Seymour days, our new song went like this: (Use your fingers to make bunny ears and bounce them up and down)

Little Peter Rabbit, hopping through the garden. Scooping up the carrots and taking a big bite. Along comes Mr. McGregor and he said, “Little Peter Rabbit, I don’t want to see you scooping up my carrots and taking a big bite. I’ll give you three chances and then I’ll turn you into a pie!”

And then you sing it all over again with two chances, then one chance, and then “I gave you three chances and now I have to turn you into a pie!” The song was a huge hit, especially with the birthday boy.

Our next activity was to go outside and play a crazy game. I scattered the real vegetables from the photo booth on one end of the yard, lined the kids up  along the fence, and Mr. McGregor (Nick) had to try to catch them as they hopped like bunnies to steal his vegetables. Not only was Peter laughing hysterically while watching the hullabaloo, but the older kids loved it more than I could’ve imagined! Some of them wanted turns being Mr. McGregor and they wanted to play over and over and over. When the party was all over and it was getting dark, we had to go back out there and play a few more rounds!

For dinner, I wanted light and bunny food-like. Something heavy like lasagna or chili just didn’t seem right, so I went with fresh croissants and rolls with chicken  salad and egg salad. I got both recipes from Pioneer Woman, which is where I go first for all of my recipe needs. Lasagna, coffeecake, brownies……hers are the best! She uses real ingredients and the finished product always tastes great!

We also had fresh veggies and artichoke dip with tortilla chips as appetizers. I’ve been using this recipe for about ten years and it is always a crowd pleaser!

14 oz marinated artichoke hearts cut up small

3/4 C real mayonnaise

1 C parmesan cheese

1 clove garlic minced

1 bag of shredded mozzarella cheese Stir all ingredients together, bake in a casserole dish at 350 for 25 min. YUM!!! Especially great with french bread!

 

For the cake, Grace decided that we needed to make a carrot cake, since Peter Rabbit eats carrots. Although it’s a lot of work to shred a pound of carrots, I agreed with her logic.  A few years ago, my friend served carrot cupcakes with cream cheese frosting at her Easter party, and they were so fabulous that I begged her for the recipe. Because all of our guests absolutely loved it at Peter’s party, I asked her if I could share it with you and she graciously agreed. The recipe comes from Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa Parties Cookbook and can be found here:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/carrot-cake-cupcakes-recipe.html

Grace had noticed green stringy gum sold at Harrison’s Little League games. Thinking that it would be the perfect grass for Peter’s cake she asked me if we could buy some. I let her put it on however she wanted and it turned out so cute! Unfortunately one dad didn’t hear our announcement that the grass was gum and thinking that it was fondant, he got a belly full of bubble gum! Oops!

I don’t always decorate much for birthday parties, but something about it being a first birthday party, added to Grace’s excitement and ideas, along with the fact that the Peter Rabbit theme lended itself to some pretty cute possibilities, I got a little into it and had so much fun!    

These carrot bubbles were the party favors.

These carrot baskets were the perfect home for carrot chocolates and M&M’s. This was one of Peter’s beautiful newborn pictures that my friend took the day he arrived home from the hospital. I LOVE this beautiful quilt that my mom made for him!

Another from the newborn shoot. And after months of searching for watering cans at garage sales with no success, I found this wonderful red one the week before the party for $1!!! SCORE! And the day before the party I found this wooden picture frame at another garage sale, also for $1!

Thank-you for joining us in celebrating the first year of our sweet little bunny-boy. At the party I told the guests that in the Bible God tells His people to practice certain celebrations and rituals as a way to remember what He had done for them in the past. Every year when I celebrate my kids’ birthdays, I feel like I’m doing just that. Remembering God’s goodness. Screaming thanks to Him for a healthy pregnancy. A smooth delivery. Another year of healthy, beautiful life. Remembering. Giving thanks.

GREAT is thy faithfulness, O God my Father!!!  

It Is Not All About Me

Nick and I were both blessed to have attended Christian schools from preschool all the way through college and we always assumed that our children would do the same.

But after we moved to California, we realized that the Christian school situation here is very different from what we were used to in Michigan. I attended a wonderful Christian school in my neighborhood across the parking lot from my church, which supported it. Not only did they share the same name, but they also shared the same community, as most of my church friends also attended my school. And most of the kids walked to school, as we all lived in the same neighborhood. Here in Fairfield it isn’t like that. One of our top options was a tiny school downtown where the students teach themselves independently most of the day on computers. The other was in another town, requiring me to drive two hours a day.

So when we heard about the Spanish Immersion School within walking distance from our home, for the first time in our lives we shockingly found ourselves actually considering a public school.

There were many positives. Spanish had been my major in college and I had taught the subject for years, so I would be able to help our kids roll their r’s and conjugate their verbs. I had grown up walking to school with my sisters and neighbor friends in rain, shine or snow (literally), so the idea of walking with MY kids to their school every day sounded perfect. And we wouldn’t even need snow boots or sleds! And of course being fluent in Spanish would help our children to someday secure good jobs.

But on the other hand, these things could never take the place of learning every subject from a Christian perspective. Praying as a class. Worshipping as a school body during assemblies or chapel. Hearing Bible stories and devotions in a place other than home and church.

The best option just wasn’t clear to us, so we threw out a fleece. Lord, if you want our children to attend the Spanish Immersion Program, let Harrison’s name get picked in the lottery. We knew it would be difficult to get in as it is the only program of its kind in Fairfield. But if this isn’t the right place for Harrison- if he shouldn’t be in the Spanish program, or if you want him in a Christian school, let his name NOT get picked.

I nervously went to the school on the night of the lottery not even knowing what to hope for. But when Harrison’s name was chosen 2nd in that library PACKED with people desiring to get into the program, I believed with all of my heart that this was the school where God wanted our children.

So fast forward three years to the night that, after watching Harrison struggle in the program from the very beginning and after some testing and a meeting at school, it became clear to us that we needed to take him out. Feeling very confused and struggling with how things had turned out, I bounced my raging questions off Nick. What happened??? Why would God have led us to put our son in a school where he wouldn’t be successful??? Why would He allow him make friends only to leave them 2 1/2 years later???? Had God really even been a part of that decision, or did we make it all up??? Had we really not heard from the Lord????

 

As I was asking these difficult questions and doubting our decision and God’s hand in it, I suddenly got a picture in my head. Of a face. Anna’s face.

 

I met Anna in the school parking lot after her daughter had transferred to Harrison’s first grade class a couple of months into the school year. Immediately upon meeting her, she invited us to a Halloween party at her house and although I didn’t know her, I felt like we should go, so we did. Over the following months our friendship began to grow. Making slime at her Halloween party, catching crawdads with hotdogs in the stream at Mankas Park, riding horses at her ranch and walking to and from school together, the kids and I really enjoyed her creative and energetic zest for life and her amazing gift of serving others.

Although we enjoyed each other’s company, we had an understanding. I was a Christian and she was an Atheist. Although I prayed for her and made sure she knew I was a Christian, I didn’t feel comfortable trying to change her mind or talking about my faith much in front of her.

One day in May, almost two years ago, I was talking to my friend Cynthia after school. Cynthia is one of those Christians who just radiates God’s joy and oozes out His passion. It is almost impossible to talk to this beautiful woman without hearing her mention her beloved Jesus with a gleam in her eye. That afternoon, as we were talking about God’s incredible goodness, Anna greeted us. Cynthia turned to her and asked with a huge sincere smile, “Are you a sister in Christ, too?” My ears perked up. Oooh, this was going to be interesting. How does an atheist answer such a joyful, hopeful question? “No, I’m a sister who doesn’t believe that God exists?” “No, I’m actually an atheist sister?” Imagine my utter shock, when Anna answers her with a tentative, “I think so.”

It didn’t matter that Cynthia was standing there. There was absolutely no hiding my disbelief. “WHATTTTTT????” I exclaimed. “WHAT HAPPENED????”

 

And she tells me that I have something amazing that she wants.

 

WHATTTTTT????? ME??????

 

But she quickly offsets it with, “But I’m not ready to go to church or anything.”

That evening I wrote her a long e-mail telling her how excited I was that God was working in her heart, and I told her that I wasn’t going to pressure her to go to church, but if she ever felt ready to try it out, that not only would she be welcome at my church, but that I thought she would love our small, eclectic, compassionate church family.

Soon after, she and her two daughters did try it out.

 

And the rest is history.

 

Ever since, her daughters have been attending the girls group that I lead and Anna even became our game leader this year, bringing a tremendous amount of fun and energy to our meetings. Anna has been attending our Womens Bible Study every week and adds honesty and depth to our discussions. Her daughters have participated in our past two Christmas programs, blessing us with dramatic flair, a sweet singing voice and newly learned piano skills. They come to church every single Sunday that they can. When Anna decided this year to homeschool, one of her reasons was that it would give her more opportunities to teach her girls the Bible and about the Lord. I watch her live life trying to be obedient to Christ in all that she does.

And not only have she and her daughters given their lives to the Lord, but God is moving among her entire family as well! After her mom attended our church and Bible Study several times and was immersed in the grace and freedom that Christ offers, she made the huge decision to leave the church of a different religion where she had been a member. She now attends our church and Bible Study faithfully. Her father, who hadn’t been previously interested in church, now attends on Sundays and enjoys helping with our bi-monthly homeless ministry. Recently he even bought all of the food and prepared it himself! Her grandmother, who hadn’t attended church regularly in a few years, has also become a regular to both our church service and Bible Study. She even had my name in our Christmas Secret Sisters gift exchange this year. And her 7 year old niece faithfully attends our girls club and was chosen by Nick to light the first Advent candle this December, bringing warm tears to my eyes.

This winter Anna and I met in my home one afternoon a week to discuss two books in preparation for her baptism. And on Easter Sunday this year, not only did our church family rejoice in Christ’s resurrection. But we also rejoiced in watching this true sister in Christ, along with her two daughters accept God’s covenant of grace to them and publicly proclaim that they were dedicating their lives to Him.

So now go back with me to that evening when Nick and I were sitting on the couch together, frustrated and wondering what had gone wrong. How could we have thought that God was calling us to put Harrison in the Spanish Immersion Program when now we had to pull him out? Had we made a huge mistake? Had we thought that we had heard from the Lord when we really hadn’t? When Anna’s face popped into my head, I said with growing understanding, “I think we were supposed to be at that school so Anna could come to know the Lord!”

So many times in life we pray for God’s Will to be done, but secretly our motive revolves around us. Please help me to choose the school where YOU want my children. (But let it be the school where they will most excel.) Help me to get the job that YOU want for me. (But let it be the job that will pay me the most money and help me to be most successful in my career.) Help me to choose the college where YOU want me. (But let it be the college where I will have the most friends and get the best job opportunity.)

But what if God gives us the school, job or college not where we will best succeed in earthly standards, but instead where we will best succeed in Kingdom standards? What if He puts us in the place where, instead of making the most cash we will have the most opportunities to bring others to Him? What if He leads us not to where our career will grow the fastest but instead where His light needs to shine the brightest?

I’m not saying that the details of our lives and families don’t matter to God. I believe they do.  Immensely. I’m simply suggesting that maybe they are being woven into a tapestry much larger than we realize. That maybe the details that seem so very important to us would pale in comparison to OTHER details if we were able to back up and see the tapestry in its entirety.

Last week while teaching the girls’ club at our church, I looked around and realized that the majority of the girls there were from our school! There because we invited them. I got the chills when one of the girls, Mexican, recited her memory verse in Spanish for all to hear. I recognized that if Harrison hadn’t attended that school for a few years, none of those girls would be sitting around the table hearing the story of Christ’s death and resurrection from my favorite children’s Bible, The Jesus Storybook Bible.

I experience more and more freedom as I more deeply understand the notion that it is not about me. IT IS NOT ABOUT ME.

If I can take MYSELF out of the equation, out of the experiences I encounter and remember that God is working out HIS perfect plan, I can find much more peace when the circumstance doesn’t turn out the way I had hoped.

Instead of freaking out that a house is now worth much less than the price paid, we can thank Him for using us in the lives of our neighbors and trust that He has a purpose for us living exactly where we live. Instead of feeling upset that my son didn’t succeed in Spanish when I thought that God had confirmed that he WOULD succeed, I can thank Him for using me, inadequate, evangelism-incompetent ME to help lead a precious family to salvation.

Trusting in God’s larger “kingdom plan” can be difficult when He doesn’t let us in on all of the details.  When He doesn’t reveal to us what THE HECK is happening and WHY. But isn’t it thrilling to think that maybe we are a part of something much bigger than our own little lives? A part of something much more significant and eternal than the little details that we lose sleep over?

God, help me to trust your plan. Your good and perfect plan. Your bigger picture that I am not yet able to fully see in all of its vibrant color and richness.

And thank-you that it is not all about me.

And the Hostess is Wearing Pajamas

Always up for a party, I was excited when my good friend recently invited me to her friend’s home for an everything exchange. Upon arriving with my huge 18 gallon tub AND garbage bag, both packed to the brim with clothing and home decorations begging to be passed on to new homes, one of the first things I noticed about the hostess was that she was wearing pajamas. PAJAMAS! This was not a pajama party. My friend and I, excited to have an evening out, were wearing cute outfits adorned with jewelry. Yet the hostess was wearing pajamas. And somehow, I loved it.

I also noticed that her four kids were running around, having fun. There were a few toys on her floors. Her kitchen counters were decorated with the dinner dishes and leftovers from that evening. And she was calmly standing in the kitchen (did I mention in her pj’s?) spreading peanut butter on celery sticks for her party. She wasn’t apologizing for not having everything ready. She wasn’t yelling at her kids to calm down. There was no stress in her appearance whatsoever, regardless of the fact that she was expecting a house full of women. Any minute.

As I surveyed this scene, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. A spark of freedom fill my veins.

Although it was obvious that this woman took care of her home- it was nicely decorated, clean and organized- she had no problem with twenty women arriving and not finding perfection. It was okay that her kids were making noise. It was fine that the house wasn’t completely perfect. No big deal that she wasn’t in her best outfit. Showing us perfection was not her intention in inviting us into her home. I believe that her intention was to bless us, and that is exactly what she did.

And while I was standing there processing all of this, it struck me that this is what true hospitality is. Not only inviting people over to see our very best performances- the quiet candlelit home with homemade decorations, fresh flowers and a meal which we spent all day preparing. But also inviting them in to share our every day life- floors tracked with muddy footprints, noise, dust, dirty dishes.

In middle school I began babysitting regularly for a wonderful family and I continued doing odd jobs for them all the way until I had my first baby. The woman of the home, Janis, is a woman that I love dearly and has been a special person in my life.  I remember her once telling me that while speaking at different mom groups she would hold up a jar of dirt for all of the women to see and tell them that this dirt is what often keeps us from showing Christ to one another. From opening up our homes and offering the kind of hospitality that God calls us to. She would exclaim to them, “It’s only DIRT.”

One time Janis told me that she was trying to become a more hospitable person, which blew me away. How was it POSSIBLE to become more hospitable than this woman who whips me up a gourmet meal every time I visit Michigan and spontaneously knock on her door unannounced to say hello? I remember responding to her puzzling comment by exclaiming, “But you are already so hospitable! Just look at your Christmas parties!”

OHHHHHH, her CHRISTMAS PARTIES. Every time I attend one I feel like I’ve entered the set of a movie. Complete with a choir singing on the beautiful staircase, catered food, exquisite holiday decor and the most incredible dessert assortment I’ve ever seen. Rock candy on wooden sticks, Middle Eastern treats, cakes, chocolates……..AHHHH…..my dream come true!!

But when I mentioned this to her, she immediately shook her head and said, “No, that’s not hospitality. That is entertaining.”

Ten years later, I think I finally understand what she meant. People can most certainly be blessed and feel special by the effort we put into hand made decorations, a beautiful atmosphere and fancy foods. And these things can be a fun expression of our love, creativity and artistic talents. They can help make a celebration even more special. But as Janis was trying to teach me so many years ago, they are not the heart of hospitality.

And I think sometimes spending all of that time making everything perfect can be a little more for ourselves than for our guests, if we’re brutally honest with ourselves. I read something recently that spoke to me. I’m not positive, but I think it was from Ann Voskamp. (My very favorite writer- check out her beautiful heart and writing at http://www.holyexperience.com). It said, “They didn’t come to see you. They came to see God.” I’ve been trying to keep that in mind lately, when guests are about to arrive and I haven’t found time to mop the rainy day-muddy floors. When friends pop in unexpectedly and I haven’t gotten to wash the dishes yet. When my party is about to start and I haven’t been able to get to scrubbing the mud-streaked slider doors. They’re not here to see me. They’re not here to see me. They’re not here to see my house. They’re not here to be entertained or impressed or blown away by my homemaking skills or my food or my outfit. They’re here to see God. To feel His love. To feel His peace and His embrace.

So if you are in a season of life right now, like me, that forces you to choose between a)never invite people over because you’ll never have the time to make things perfect or b)invite people over while you’re still in your pajamas surrounded by toys, kids and dirty dishes……

PLEASE! Go for the perfectly imperfect!! The perfection of our homes/clothes/preparations can never outshine making our guests feel at home. Showing true interest in their lives and in their hearts. Giving encouragement or just a listening ear. Showing the peace and joy of Christ. Offering them a drink or something to eat and creating a safe place for them to just be. While being offered this sort of hospitality, no one is going to feel less blessed because our floors were dirty!

I’ve always loved the verse Hebrews 13:2 “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”

The thought of showing hospitality to an ANGEL without knowing it sends shivers down my spine! It doesn’t say to show perfection. Just hospitality. Maybe the Hebrew word there even means “in your pajamas”.  (PastorHusband- put away your Hebrew Dictionary- I’m KIDDING.)

I wonder how often we have confused Christian hospitality with entertaining?

I wonder how many angels we have missed out on?

I’m pretty sure I’ve missed a few.

And the Fruit of the Spirit is……..Self-Control

“Mommy, I didn’t let it out,” 3 year old Andrew tells me matter of factly.

All too familiar with the topics my kids enjoy discussing, my mind immediately went to toots. I assumed that he had smelled a toot and wanted me to know that he wasn’t the one who had “let it out.”

Probing deeper, I asked him, “You didn’t let WHAT out, Buddy?”

“The mean words I almost said to Henya.” (His adorable nickname for Harrison.)

Suddenly, it all clicked.

AYAHHHHAYAYHHHHA!!!!! (This is me shrieking with delight. And dancing around for joy.)

Andrew, bless his heart, has had a lot of chats with me lately about self-control. I’ve been explaining to him that self-control is something that we can’t do by ourselves. It’s something that we can only show when the Holy Spirit is working in our hearts. And it is portrayed when there is something bad that we want to do or say, but instead of doing it or saying it, we decide to keep it inside instead. We decide to not “let it out.”

No doubt, Andrew and I have not had our last conversation about self-control. But today I am going to celebrate this accomplishment with him. Isn’t that how parenting goes? Taking things one baby step at a time, one day at a time? Knowing that after one hurdle is jumped, a new one will appear in our lane soon after, but instead of focusing on the one not yet in view, rejoicing over the one that we have cleared?

Forgetting about the tidying up I had been doing, I ran to him, hugged and kissed him and shrieked about how proud of him I was. We prayed right there on the floor, thanking God for the self-control He had allowed Andrew to demonstrate. Even if just for the moment.

Mama’s Gotta Practice What She Preaches

After enjoying an absolutely beautiful afternoon at the pool today, the kids and I were walking across the parking lot, wet and happy. Upon dropping one of his pool toys, Andrew exclaimed, “Oh my gosh!” I gently rebuked him, asking him not to say that.

Turning to me, his eyes narrow. He accuses me in his frustrated, adorable little three year old voice, “YOU!!!! You say ‘Oh my gosh’ EVERY DAY!!!!”

Oh my gosh!! He’s right. I do.

Immediately, I thought of a few times I had said it in front of him just today.

I thanked him for reminding me of that, apologized to him, and told him that I would try to use better words.

OOPS. Nailed by a three year old.

Mama Needs Faith

Strangest thing.

I have an active blog which is consistently getting updated. Maybe even daily. However, when I look at my computer screen I am shocked to see the last post dated May 15, 2012!!! Yes, almost 2 years ago! So somehow all of those new recipes that my family has loved, the fun activities that my kids and I have enjoyed together, the funny quotes from the mouths of my precious little ones, the “interesting” things that I have experienced (strange, crazy things always seem to happen to me), and all of the ways that God has worked in my life never made it from my ever-spinning mind to the keys of my laptop.

It could possibly be that my fingers have been a little busy. Busy holding baby, feeding baby, reading to 3 year old, doing puzzles with 3 year old, scrubbing baby-thrown banana and oatmeal stuck-floors, trying (the key word is TRYING- not succeeding) in keeping up with house a little, pitching baseballs to Little League Boy, doing art projects with Princess and trying to live life to the fullest with my amazing 4 children and husband to find the time to sit and actually type out the words that are being composed in my head.

And with a baby who hasn’t slept well most of his life, the words may not have made much sense anyhow.

So it looks like you missed

*the yummy barley soup recipe

*Grace answering my question of what the Lego Movie taught her with “Everything doesn’t have to be perfect. So that means I  shouldn’t have to clean my room anymore”

* 3 year old Andrew yelling, “IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!!” like a curse word every time he gets angry

*the Valentines Day scavenger hunt through the neighborhood

*the story of me having to reach my hand into our fish bowl (it has taken my poor kids many years to finally get their first pet), grab orange headed Max and PULL OUT the WORM (courtesy of Andrew’s digging escapade in the backyard) which was STUCK half hanging out of his mouth and causing him to fly around the fish bowl in a frantic frenzy (if you know me, you know I’m not an animal person and you know that I was creeped out for hours).

But today I have a story that MUST be told. Not just told to an imaginary audience while washing dishes. Not just composed in my mind while pushing the double stroller home from school every morning. But actually told. To real people. Why? Because I really need to give God the glory for what He did in my life.

So I’m dusting off my blog (I even had to reset my password to login because I couldn’t remember it), and I’m going to write my first real post in 2 years. Drumroll, please! Even if it takes me a whole year to actually write, edit and post, I still need to do it.

And I must say, it feels exhilerating to be back.

So my story begins with me feeling tired. Exhausted. Tired and foggy from waking up with my baby 20 times per night. Tired from trying to combat the constant messes all around me. Tired from trying to accomplish all of the housework that needs to be done. (But never quite finding the time to do it well.)  Tired from not finding the quiet time with the Lord and the rest that I so desperately long for. Tired from the never ending noise. Having 4 children is fun and wonderful, but it also can be TIRING. So when my friend Faye invited me to a women’s conference at a local church, I was definitely in. Free child care? Sitting down in one spot for 4 hours without having to move? Spending a morning with good friends and hearing the Word of God? Free breakfast and coffee? Oh yah, baby, I was so in.

So after dropping off my 3 youngest kids in 3 different parts of the church, loading up my plate and filling up my coffee cup, I found the seat my friends had saved for me, feeling ready to sink down deep and comfy and not get up for a loooooong time. After a beautiful time of worship, the keynote speaker began her workshop titled “Faith Over Fear.” She dove into the Word and just as she was about to teach about Gideon, Faye pointed up to the screen and whispered to me that the number that had just appeared was from the childcare. I dug into my large purse searching for the 3 pager numbers I had received for my kids thinking, “please no, please no, please no………..” and of COURSE the number on the screen was Andrew’s number. NOOOOOO!!!! My plan was to NOT MOVE FOR 4 HOURS!!!! Had my son not received the memo???? It turned out that my adorable little guy (who has had TWO failure potty training attempts) had a stinky diaper which his mother needed to change. And I had left all of my diaper changing supplies out in my car. Brilliant. So by the time I walked with him all the way out to the van, changed him, and returned him to his class, I missed pretty much the whole first lesson.

After the break, the speaker got into the Word again, and just as she was about to teach about Peter, another number appeared on the screen. Please no, please no, please no……….OF COURSE! It is MY Peter’s number! Why wouldn’t it be? And my sweet, smiley little baby also needs a diaper change. By his mother.

Another Bible lesson missed.

Then, the speaker announces that we are going to have quiet time with the Lord, truthfully answering the questions in our programs between us and Him. This sounds wonderful to me and as my soul gets excited to rest in God’s presence, she makes an announcement. The market next door is threatening to tow any of our vehicles parked in front of it. And yes, you guessed it, that is exactly where I had parked. I am absolutely stunned. Are you kidding me??? I have to leave for the THIRD time?? Is this a joke? Are people going to jump out and yell, “You’re on Candid Camera!!!!” and give me some kind of prize?

Or am I under some sort of attack here?

I walk out to my car, trying to muster up any little speck of good attitude left, while quietly grumbling that the market should have put up “Customer Parking Only” signs so I would’ve known not to park there. I can’t find a parking spot anywhere, so after asking a woman where to park, I find myself on the other side of a busy street by the freeway ramp in the church’s overflow lot. I try to preach to myself that I can enjoy God’s presence anywhere- not just in the sanctuary. Even here in this dirty parking lot! I breathe in the beautiful March sunshine and try my best to choose joy instead of grumbling. After getting all the way back to the church, the quiet time questions with God were done. I’m afraid that my good attitude-pep talk to myself didn’t entirely work.

After rounding up my kids, Faye kindly offered to stay with them while I retrieved my car, as there are no sidewalks going along that busy road leading to the overflow lot. So I ran as fast as I could because Harrison’s baseball game was about to start and I was eager to get there.  After returning with the van, I hugged my friend good-bye, quickly loaded up the kids and the stroller, turned the key……….only to hear a pathetic attempt by my car and then……NOTHING. I watched the clock and gave it 10 minutes- no start. Then another 10- nada. Then 20 minutes- it still wouldn’t start.

While we were waiting, we played in the children’s ministry room right in front of my car and I did my best to teach my kids about having a good attitude when life doesn’t go our way. We had races, made up games, ate the food that I had packed for the baseball game and had a really good time together. And I had absolute faith that God was going to start my car for me,  praying aloud in the name of Jesus Christ.

At one point, I asked Grace to watch the boys while I went right outside the door to try the car again. After I returned with no success, Grace tells me, “Peter was choking but now he’s okay.” I study my sweet baby’s face and instantly realize that he is not breathing. NOT BREATHING! I quickly grab him, turn him upside down and begin to smack his back with all of my might. He finally throws up and I find a candy wrapper in the middle of the vomit! Although this was absolutely terrifying, it changed my perspective. I could always go to another conference. (And maybe even hear the whole message.) I could always get another van. (And maybe it would even start when I wanted it to.) But my precious, beloved baby was alive. Thank-you, Lord.

The conference ended at 1:00 and my faith that my car was going to start lasted for 2 hours, but around 3:00 I finally realized that I needed help. The help couldn’t come from my husband, as our OTHER van is leaking radiator fluid and can’t be driven. And I smiled at the thought of all 5 of us piling on his red Vespa-style scooter, clinging to each other for dear life as he tries to get us home. So I called a man from our church. After he had trouble finding the church in Vacaville where I was, he tried jump starting my car, but it did nothing. The car would have to be towed.

We officially had NO working cars. No cars for picking up kids from school. No cars for getting groceries. No cars for the fun activities we had planned for Spring Break. NO CARS.

After he dropped us off at home around 4:00, long after Harrison’s baseball game had ended, I was really struggling. I felt disappointed. Frustrated. Dark. Attacked. Very, very, very low. I knew that I had two choices. I could remain feeling horrible and spend the night sulking and feeling sorry for myself.

Or I could SHARE my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

One thing that God has been showing me over the past couple of months is that when I’m going through a difficult time, that the enemy loves for me to keep it all inside. Because inside it can fester and grow into something much worse and much larger than what it actually is. Something hopeless and insurmountable. But I have seen, both at a recent pastors retreat in Pismo Beach and at a recent ladies night with good friends the power that comes from sharing and bringing our darkness into the light, where it suddenly appears a little less hopeless and a little less huge.

What I really wanted to do was just throw myself onto my bed and kick and scream, informing God that this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t get a much needed break today at the conference. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t get to hear His Word preached. It wasn’t fair that I now didn’t have a car to drive. It wasn’t fair that I had missed Harrison’s game when I wanted so badly to be there and show my love for him. It wasn’t fair that I had trusted Him through this whole thing and had done my best to have a good attitude and to teach my kids through it and then He didn’t show up for me. IT! WASN’T! FAIR!!!! Does He really even care about me???

But instead of throwing this temper tantrum, I forced myself over to my computer and e-mailed the close friends that I had gone to the conference with, shared my story with them, and asked them to pray for me. Not for my car, but for my faith. For my spirit. That I would encounter God through all of this.

And I did encounter Him.

Not through the auditory voice that I was hoping for, but through His people. Over the next 24 hours He showed us His love through

Triple A towing offers from TWO different families

powerful words spoken over us by friends

two different people driving the kids and me to the church potluck the next morning that I had wanted to attend but had decided to miss because I  knew we all wouldn’t fit in just one car with another family, and I didn’t want to create a huge hassle calling two different families to pick us all up. But a friend called out of the blue when he saw that we weren’t at the church service and found someone to caravan over to our house with him to get us

an offer to use our friends’ car as long as we needed it

an offer to be driven to get groceries

through the prayers and words of encouragement from close friends during my time of dark discouragement

As I was leaving the church potluck, my belly full of good food and my heart full of beautiful fellowship, my friend Anna asked if we were doing anything fun that day. I dramatically rolled my eyes and told her that neither of our cars were working so we couldn’t go anywhere. She immediately offered to have her husband Andy drive over to the garage in Vacaville where the van had been towed. Since the garage isn’t opened on Sundays she thought he could take a quick look at it in the parking lot. Andy, an amazingly gifted car mechanic (and that isn’t even his day job!) quickly discovered that I had a broken fuse. After driving over to his parents’ house and finding just the right one in his dad’s garage, he replaced it and the car started perfectly!

Now, here is the amazing part. Here is the part that I felt called to share with you.

As Anna was driving my newly fixed van to Andy’s parents’ house a couple of miles down a side street, my front passenger tire went completely flat! There had been a hole in it, and Andy told her that I was not meant to drive my car that afternoon because if I had taken it on the highway to Harrison’s game, as I had planned, driving that fast would have probably caused the tire to blow! And a tire blowing on the highway could have meant serious danger to my precious children and me.

So what I saw as a horrible day, an ugly attack against me, a frustrating circumstance…….. was actually God’s protection. I had questioned whether or not He even cared about me since He wouldn’t start my car. But in reality, He was keeping my car from starting because He cared about my babies and me SO MUCH.

After processing what all of this meant, I felt so foolish. God has shown me His love in so many amazing ways over the years, over and over, yet one day doesn’t go my way and I’m suddenly doubting His goodness?

Romans 5:3-5 says, “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope.  And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”

And 2nd Peter 1:6 says (talking about our inheritance in Heaven) “In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith- of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire- may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.”

That makes so much sense to me. Of course it is easy to have faith when things are going great. But only through being squeezed, pressed and challenged are we going to be able to truly show the “genuineness of our faith.”

And compared to what many of you are facing right now, I feel silly even calling my problems”suffering.” Missing a conference and having a car that won’t start are mere inconveniences compared to being told that a child has cancer. Losing a dear loved one. Losing a job and all income. A marriage falling apart.

If God promises that the grief of ALL of these trials will result in the proving of the genuineness of our faith, making us more mature Christians with greater perseverance, greater character and greater hope,  in the result of praise, glory and honor to HIM, then I pray that I will learn to EMBRACE these seemingly hopeless life situations, big and small, and even THANK God for them. Thank Him for His perfect plan that I can not yet fully see. Thank Him for caring enough about me to change me, refine me and grow me.

I obviously still have a long way to go. Mama needs faith. The undoubting kind. The NEVER doubting kind. The kind that ALWAYS believes all the way down to the very soul that My God’s got this. Because He is capable. He is trustworthy. He is faithful. And He is good.

BIrThdAy mAgIC

I have always LOVED my birthday. In kind of a silly, over the top sort of way. Every year magical things seem to happen on that day, and this year was no exception. It got off to a rocky start, as I was bombarded with a horrible allergy attack and wasn’t even able to taste my own birthday pancakes and couldn’t put my contacts in. I started wondering if this was going to be my first bad birthday ever, but it absolutely was not.

The first insane thing to happen took place while walking home from dropping the kids off at school. I stopped to chat with my fun neighbor, Sheila, and as I was laughing at something she said, I happened to glance over at her driveway. My jaw dropped. There stood a pink vintage Schwinn bike!!! Did I mention it was PINK???!!! And it was waiting in the middle of a pile of junk for the donation truck to come pick it up!!! I exclaimed, “Sheila, you’re not getting rid of that bike, are you???!!! It’s so cool!!!” And she nonchalantly says, “Yah, it didn’t really work out for me. Do you want it?” I think I might have screamed. I have wanted a vintage bike for a long time. And my top color choices would have been turquoise or pink. This was my dream bike!!! “ARE YOU SERIOUS???? AHHHHH!!!!” And then I said, “Sheila, I need to tell you something. Today is my birthday, and I feel like you just gave me the most incredible birthday gift ever!” She was thrilled that I was so delighted, and later her husband, who happens to be our fire chief, came over to wish me a Happy Birthday and to tell me that this bike was meant for me, and told me, “God bless you.” He also offered to pump up the flat tires, clean up the rust, lube it up and find the missing fender. But I didn’t really care about flat tires, missing fenders or rust- I just knew that it was PINK and that it was MINE. Birthday Magic #1!

The next fabulous thing to happen actually goes back to a couple of months ago when I saw in our church bulletin an invitation to a formal tea party. This jumped out at me for a few reasons. First of all, I love the idea of tea parties- dressing up, using fine china, eating delicious finger foods, drinking hot tea……. totally my cup of tea. (Ha ha, sorry- I couldn’t resist that one.:) ) Second, the tea party was a fundraiser for Alpha, a wonderful organization that Nick and I love.  Since I am completely passionate about pregnancy, child birth, and life in general, I naturally despise abortion, which is the complete opposite of all of those things. Alpha gives support to women in crisis pregnancies. They allow the mothers to see their babies on an ultrasound screen, showing them that the “thing” growing inside of them is indeed a developing baby, instead of a mass of tissue. Alpha also provides resources for moms not knowing how to care for their babies and counseling for women who have had abortions and are in need of God’s beautiful grace and healing. So when I saw that the tea party was supporting this amazing ministry, I got even more excited. And then when I saw that it was going to be held at a huge, beautiful home near my house that I pass by all the time and have always wanted to see beyond the iron gates, my excitement grew even more.  And then, the kicker…….I realized that this wonderful event was going to take place on May 11!!! MY BIRTHDAY!!!! Ahhhhhh…….”Okay, this is so meant to be. I am absolutely, positively, without a doubt GOING!!!” I informed myself. Making the situation even more perfect was the fact that it was a Mothers Day Tea, and my mom was going to be visiting from Michigan on that date! So I bought her a ticket as her Mother’s Day gift, and Leti was just as excited about the tea party as I was, so she invited her mother in law.

We had an absolute lovely time and we were blown away by the home and grounds! This family owns a winery, so we were surrounded by vineyards with a wonderful view of the hills that I love.

I was thrilled that my girl wore the dress and red belt I gave her for her birthday!

This is the amazing home where the tea party was held, only a mile and a half from my house. The building on the far right is the amazing “banquet hall” where we ate. The home owners are Christians and supporters of Alpha, and they generously allow Alpha to hold fundraising events here. Leti and I love it that they use the gifts they have been blessed with for so much good.

Here are some peeks into their incredible yard:

Rumor has it that the owners are going to be moving soon, so Nick and I are looking into purchasing it. But for some reason, we got thrown out of the loan office with the loan officer laughing in our faces. I still can’t figure out why. Well, maybe we could talk our church into buying it as the church parsonage. Anyways, I could’ve wandered around that beautiful estate all day long, but the tea party itself was enjoyable as well! We got to order the flavor of tea of our choice, and we were served tasty little bite sized sandwiches- curry chicken salad and cucumber with cream cheese, not to mention scones, lemon cookies, blondie brownies, and strawberries and cream.

Not only did we enjoy wonderful conversations and wonderful food, but we also appreciated the short program put on by Alpha. The director shared with us a story of an 18 year old girl who went into their clinic 13 weeks pregnant, stating that she was planning to have an abortion. As the nurse performed the ultrasound and noticed that the baby was sleeping, she began to pray that the baby would move, and instantly the baby jumped, the sight shocking its mother. The nurse then prayed that the girl would be able to see the baby’s fingers, and just then he opened up his fist. When the mother saw him moving around and counted his perfect little fingers, she cried and cried, knowing that she needed to have this baby. Listening to this story, I was already crying, but then, when that very same 18 year old mother was invited to come up in front of us, holding her perfectly gorgeous 6 month old boy, I completely lost it! As I watched the host of the tea party present her with a baby gift, I just kept thanking God over and over for this organization and also for His amazing gift of life.

My next little bit of birthday magic took place when my mom and I stopped by school to pick up Harrison on our way home. A sweet mom who I have just started getting to know approached me with a big bag, explaining that since she volunteers at the Base (we live right by a military base) thrift store she’s allowed to fill up a bag of clothing for only $3. She got some things she wanted, but there was still room in the bag, so she put in a beautiful Anne Taylor suit that was just too perfect to leave. The problem was, it didn’t fit her, so when she started to think of who it would fit, I was the first person to come to mind! On my birthday???!!! Are you kidding me??? Of all the days of the year for her to bring me a beautiful, unique suit, which I love and fits me well, she had to bring it on my birthday? Okay, first a pink bike and then a suit, both from people who didn’t know it was my birthday…. isn’t that a little bit weird??

Then, since my parents were here, they graciously allowed Nick and me to go out for dinner while they took care of our kids. Going out with just Nick is such a treat and we had a fabulous time in one of our favorite towns, Davis. A college town, it is filled with cool old houses, wonderful restaurants and shops, and tons of young people everywhere. As we walked around, I couldn’t stop noticing all of the vintage bikes, secretly thinking that mine was just a little bit prettier.

We ate at Paesano’s, a really great Italian restaurant. A table outdoors, wonderful old music playing, delicious food and drinks and  free gelato for my birthday made it a perfect, relaxing evening.

Well, okay, maybe not totally perfect. As you can see in my eyes, my allergies began to act up again, and we had to go home early so I could take out my contacts. But other than that little annoying thing, it was a perfect day, and I went to bed feeling so loved, so blessed, and so thankful. Thankful to God for blessing me with the gift of 32 years of healthy life, so obviously held in His hand.

When I think of all of the crazy things I have done and all of the bad things that should have happened to me but didn’t, (traveling through Europe for 2 weeks by myself, flying to Nicaragua alone, not knowing who was going to pick me up from the airport, (and when I got there, at night no less, nobody was there for me), driving into the ghetto my senior year in college after my bike was stolen, and FINDING it. I should have gotten jumped by the two guys who were on it, from whom I kindly and apologetically asked for it back and GOT IT BACK, (thanks to my tall, mighty body guard, Aaron Wiers), but I walked out of there untouched.  Etc, etc…….there is no other way to explain it other than His protection. His strong, faithful hand on me.

I am also so thankful for the gift of a loving, loyal husband. On our date he gave me a homemade birthday card with the picture of a pink vintage bike on the front, filled with beautiful writing inside, including, “Life is an adventure with you- I never know what new and exciting thing might arise. You are gifted with the ability to generate and/or attract these adventures.” (I’m not sure if he meant this as a good thing or a bad thing, but I’ll take it as good. But yes, weird things DO tend to happen to me.)

I’m thankful for the gift of 3 beautiful, amazing children whom I have the honor of raising, teaching and loving. And for the gift of so many family and friends who teach me so much about life and about God’s love. And for the gift of a beautiful, colorful world to live in. And most of all, I’m thankful for the gift of a savior and God’s perfect grace that sustains me every single day, no matter how undeserving I am.

Birthday Magic? No, more like blessed beyond measure.

Fresh New Life

We are blessed to live in an incredibly beautiful area, surrounded with green hills, and close to the countryside and vineyards. I have the privilege of seeing this every morning when I walk the kids to school:

(the building in the distance is my kids’ school, which I defended at the local school board meeting Thursday night by giving a speech about 3 reasons why closing this school would be a mistake. I normally feel completely at ease speaking in front of people, and I wasn’t nervous at all……until I got up there in front of that crowded room. I had never spoken at anything that formal before and I was still sweating by the time I got home! But thankfully, our school looks to be safe.)

Every morning on our way to school, the kids and I walk past a field where 2 beautiful white horses reside. In recent months it had become very obvious that one of the horses was pregnant, as her sides were bulging out massively above her legs. My friend Anna and I enjoyed pressing our hands into her, trying to feel the baby kick.

Because pregnancy is one of my very favorite things in this entire world, I have felt a special connection to this horse, Franny. While watching and petting her, my heart would sing out questions to her.

“Do you know? Do you know about the little life growing inside of you? Do you already love it? Do you love it so much you can hardly stand it? So much that you can’t think about anything else? Do you day dream about it? Wondering if it is a boy or a girl? Imagining yourself nuzzling it? Nursing it? Do you wonder if it will be white like you, or the color of its daddy? Do you smile and talk to it every time it kicks you? Are you so full of joy, love and gratitude that you feel like you’re floating? Are you just loving being a mama already? Are you?”

Friday morning I routinely stopped by the horses, pointing out to Andrew “Look at the horsies! What do horsies say? Nayyyyy!!!!” and as I was squinting to see Franny across the field, I suddenly spotted a white mass lying underneath her. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Seeing Anna walking down the hill, I screamed, “I MIGHT BE HALLUCINATING, BUT I THINK SHE HAD HER BABY!!!!!” Anna and her daughter came running and screaming towards me. As we watched a little more, the “white mass” stood up!!! But it wasn’t all white. Its white body was adorned with a jet black head, neck and tail! Watching those shaky legs wobble over to its mother, I lost it. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks, and my kids began asking me why I was crying. How do you explain it? How do you explain the miracle of fresh new life? Of seeing a pregnant horse one morning, and then seeing a beautiful, strong baby horse the next? How do you explain the wonder of being pregnant? Of being a mother? Of God’s incredible creation?

Something about pregnancy, birth and new life is so beautiful and awesome to me that it often brings me to tears.

On the way home from dropping off Harrison and Grace, I stopped to watch the newborn again. I was amazed by how big it was, only being a few hours old. If giving birth to an 8 pound baby  put me through such unspeakable pain, how in the world was Franny able to push out this baby, who already stands taller than Harrison and Grace? How did she do it? And if my babies’ kicks inside of me were sometimes uncomfortable, how did she endure being kicked by legs as long as my arms?

This time the foal wobbled over to Franny and began nursing. Ahhhhh! A mother nursing her baby. Again, my tears flowed. How beautiful the way God created mothers with the special ability to nurture and care for their infants. How beautiful that everything that baby needed was right there in its mother. I remember when my babies were born I felt so humbled knowing that I was the only one who could give them what they needed when they were hungry. That I was often the only one who could comfort them when they were crying. The special bond I had with them  filled me with intense love and thankfulness. I remember asking Nick on several occasions if he was jealous that I got to be the one to carry them inside of me, give birth to them, nurse them and comfort them? Because if he gotten to do all that and I had to stand by and watch, I would’ve been jealous. Crazy jealous. But, oddly enough, he was never jealous. Not even for a second! Actually, he normally answered the question by shaking his head emphatically with a dramatic, “NO!!!!”

I wish I had had my camera in the stroller Friday morning so I could share pictures of the new foal with you. But instead, I wanted to share with you my renewed sense of awe and wonder at God’s creativity and incredible creation.

I praise Him for new life!

Since I don’t have any pictures of the foal to share, I thought it would be fun to include a couple of my favorite maternity shots that my friend Rebecca took of me while I was pregnant with Andrew. She took these pictures on my due date, Oct.28, 5 days before my sweet boy was born. And I am so, so thankful that I have them. Looking at them brings back so many memories of that precious, incredible time of my life, and it makes me praise God for His goodness and faithfulness.

         

              

Psalm 139:13-16

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

Sisters in the Windy City

Two years ago when I turned the big 3-0, my sisters surprised me by coming from Connecticut and Michigan all the way to California to celebrate with me. Okay, “shocked me,” may be a more appropriate term. As Nick and I were returning home from a relaxing evening in Davis, I saw a balloon on our front porch. Attached to the balloon was a note instructing me to look on the back patio. As I turned to him, I noticed a suspicious expression on his face, and I began to panic. “Babe, PLEASE tell me there is not a surprise party in our house right now. Please, please, PLEASE tell me the whole church is not in there.” Nick was building ceiling to floor shelves on an entire wall of our guest room, so I had moved all of my craft supplies, photo albums, books, etc (a LOT of stuff) into our dining room, and our house was completely turned upside down while the project was being completed. If Nick had allowed our entire church into our house with our dining room full of crap, I would have gone ballistic. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on, so with my heart pounding wildly I approached the back patio. As I opened the slider, out of the pitch dark came flashes of blinding light. Someone was taking pictures of me! In the light of the flashes, I make out blonde hair, but not many of my California friends have hair that blonde, and for some reason I completely freaked out. There was something unnerving about being in the dark, having unknown people taking pictures of me. I started screaming REALLY loud- it was a very strange moment for me. It turned out to be my two sisters, and we spent 2 fabulous days together walking along the coast in Carmel, browsing in cute shops in Capitola, and having a wonderful dinner in Santa Cruz. We had so much fun, and I can’t even explain how special I felt that they would travel across the country just for me.

 

So back in December Kristie and I began to talk more seriously about what we were going to do for Susie’s 30th birthday rapidly approaching in April. My brother in law’s parents own a beautiful condo downtown Chicago and graciously gave us permission to hold our celebration there.

 

After months of planning, the weekend finally arrived. As I had just been in New York in January, I was a little embarassed to tell people that I was now going to Chicago. New York, Chicago and Israel in the same year? I felt completely spoiled. For a girl who loves to travel, this has been a dream year!

 

We had en enjoyable weekend and I fell even more in love with Chicago. Throughout the weekend we enjoyed

 

the beautiful old architecture of the city,

               

                                      

             

 

 

fabulous Chicago deep dish pizza, which I had dreamed about for weeks before the trip,

 

fun shopping (let’s just say re-packing our suitcases was a little, uh, challenging.)

colorful tulips gracing the city with their beauty, a tribute to our Dutch heritage

                                                         

delicious food, thanks to our personal gourmet chef we brought along (AKA K.L.B.)

beloved Lake Michigan (growing up in Michigan, I always figured that every part of the country had lakes and beaches like Lake Michigan. After moving to California, did I ever learn how wrong I was! Shortly after we moved here, it was about 100 degrees so we decided to go to the beach. I excitedly dressed the kids in bathing suits and put on my own, bringing nothing warmer than towels. I had visions of us swimming in the water, laying on the beach and playing in the sand. When we got to Point Reyes and it was in the 60’s with over cast skies and chilling winds, I started to cry! I have memories of wrapping Baby Grace in a couple of towels trying to protect her from the cold! I now finally realize how lucky I was all those years, laying on the sand in the warm sun, playing in the huge waves, walking miles down the beach, stopping by Captain Sundae on the way home…..ahhhhh)

                    

Millenium Park

                  

and most of all, having all three of us together for the first time in almost two years!

 

 

I’m thankful for the inside jokes we share. For the history we share. Our husbands won’t even play Taboo against us anymore because they become so furious. We pretty much say one word, and the other one knows the answer. If the Olympics had Taboo, we would so be there. That’s just what happens when you share life with people- you can read eachother’s minds, you know the same people, the same places, the same hilarious stories. We enjoyed tons of laughter and a lot of reminiscing this past weekend, and I’m so thankful for the relaxing time we had.