lasagna & snowflakes

Sunday afternoon became a mess of panic-stricken hurrying to accomplish... something. In my determination, when the computer took time to catch up with itself, I took to cleaning and straightening... not wanting to waste a minute. When the ringing phone interrupted my go-go-going, I paused but then gave in to answering it... since through the magic of caller id I knew who was waiting on the other end. I certainly don't claim to be focused, and I eagerly welcomed distraction from a friend. And it was a call worth answering. An invitation? For dinner? Tonight? I could have said No, I really have so much I need to get done tonight... but I never did fit in a trip to the grocery store and my family was likely to have stale crackers and lunch meat for dinner... so I accepted. It turned out to be more than an invitation... it was also motivation to keep on working... but maybe more than that. Her phone call felt like a life-line in my afternoon... once the offer was made I knew that it was exactly what I needed. An invitation to relax... with friends who don't mind if you show up for dinner in your pajamas. And I suppose there is not much that a glass of wine and a dinner I did not have to cook won't fix. Add in a lesson on making paper snowflakes and a little singing & dancing (complete with jazz hands) in the kitchen and the crushing stress of my procrastination had all but vanished.
Friendship. Laughter. Lasagna. Corny music and jazz hands.
I will have to remember this recipe the next time I pile too much up on life's plate...

Unwrap a Tuesday with Emily at Chatting at the Sky...

standing in

Sometimes I feel like an impostor in my own life. Me... but not. The outside might appear to be the girl bearing my heart... but on the inside, the heart of me feels covered in sticky goo. A pretender in my very own self. The truth of it is... this Advent season is not going the way I planned. The way I wanted it to. And certainly not the way that Jesus deserves it to go. Here I am... the whole mess of me, sitting in the cobwebs left over from Halloween (that truthfully, I have been saving since... March?) I stood in church this morning just begging for that beautiful pink candle to light up my heart and overcome me... but I think the molasses from last week's gingerbread has pretty well coated me over. Funny... a Mom knows best, right? Just the other night my Mom told me she was worried that I was doing to much. No! I am doing fine! Only the things I want to do and I am ahead of the game! Shopping all but done! cards done!
Funny...
how a Mom knows.
Last year it all hit me on the second Sunday of Advent. So I made it to week three this year... but for the life of me, I can't figure out if that is good or bad. I suppose it just is. Regardless, here I am, the great celebrator of Advent... and I'm not.
Remember that PowerPoint I am doing for our Sunday School program? Somehow it just dawned on me that it is "due" Saturday. Yes. This Saturday. So guess what I was doing at 5:09 this morning? Yep. Learning how to make a PowerPoint. And Wednesday night? We have the Band Boosters coming for a budget meeting... and dinner. At least it is motivation to vacuum up the pine needles and Easter Dust bunnies. This weekend still has some life to it, and I am already wondering how I will even make it to the next.
Smiling bright. Every hair in place. Saying all the right things. An impostor. Like a shepherd standing in for a lost wise man... hoping that nobody will notice that he is without a crown. Hoping that the love in his overloaded heart will start to light up and blind them towards his flaws. Hoping... anyway.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
Confession is good for the soul. Spitting it all out somehow makes way for the good stuff... like Jesus coming in with a warm soapy cloth and washing my heart of its stickiness... and giving me the patience to figure out Power Point. It leaves my heart a little lighter... and perhaps I will actually be able to enjoy those photos, instead of being overwhelmed by them. Because in them... I can see the story. And where I want to be. Curled up next to the sheep... gazing at the Shepherd.

the village people

You know how when you clean out your closet and half-way through it looks worse than when you started? It kind of looks that way around here.


Okay... more than kind of.
I am really hoping that by the weekend our home will look like a winter wonderland.
Or at least as close to it as you can get way down here in sunny Florida.
But here is the news flash...


The village people are out of their boxes and are having a party in the town square. Before they head to their respective neighborhoods. Later... much later. I figure they will party all night. And most of tomorrow. But that's okay...

...because when all is said and done... even they can find their way to the manger.

in preparation

As the hustle and bustle of Christmas sneaks in, I realize I should be taking advantage of this time to rest... but Advent is beginning and I want to be ready.
With my wreath.
With my candles.
With my heart.
So I have my Christmas songs playing, and my fireplace(the dvd variety!)burning. And as I haul in a few decorations from the garage, it is starting to feel festive. My nativity has made its way from the curio cabinet, where it sits all year, to its place of honor on the piano... and my book shelves are now heavy with the stories of Christmas.
At least one room looks pretty. The rest of it looks like the seasons threw up. Fall leaves and jack-o-lantern pumpkin pillows mixed in with snowmen and gingerbread men... it will all get sorted and put away... in good time. Right now? No... I am playing nurse. To the boy who got his big toe stabbed with a needle. All the way through. In one side and out the other.
But amidst the piles of festivities, I sit ready. To enjoy it all. To make the most out of December... and the joy that hides behind that hustle and bustle.

finding blessings

It will come as no surprise… to me, or anyone else… that real life can bog a Mom down. We give every ounce of our very beings to our to-do lists. Husband. Kids. House. Work. Life. And sometimes it leaves you standing at the open freezer door with nary a dinner idea in sight. Until, of course, you hear your Mom’s voice in your head telling you that you are letting all the cold out and wasting electricity...
It’s been that kind of week. Racing through to the weekend only to discover that the plans I had made have simply worn me out. And now it is Tuesday… and reflecting on the week, I am wondering if there is a moment worthy of unwrapping at all.
It makes me stop… and really think. Past the exhaustion. Past the worry. Past all that makes up my to-do list… and look into my heart. And there… I seem to find all of the blessings, that without Tuesday, might have been left in the field to wither.
Digging around in the bushel of my life, I smile…
At the silly hats Laura tried on at Target… and her exclamation over the one with a real peacock feather.
At the spontaneous outburst of the Scooby Doo song… sung in duet by my son & I.
At the blanket that still has the grass stuck to it… and holds the memory of Eric & I laying out in the backyard at 4am in search of shooting stars.
At my oh-so-close-to-thirteen boy flopping down across my lap and snuggling in.
At the conversation my daughter and I shared over soup & a sandwich.
And at the way he drew me away from the freezer door and took me in his arms.
It is time to harvest these blessings… and hold them close.
They are gifts from above.
From His heart to mine.
And not only worthy, but necessary to unwrap.

searching for the season

There is no company coming. There is no food to prepare... besides the Congo Squares, which will only take an hour. All I am expected to do is show up... and really, that is okay. But it is just one week away... and this girl is desperately searching for Thanksgiving. I have stepped forward with a thankful heart, as I do most days. I have decked out my house in all sorts of fall splendor. I have made lists of the blessings He has bestowed on me, and still... I feel like I am missing something. Even the cat seems to have more holiday spirit than me... and it leaves me feeling all muddled inside.
I suppose I am missing the trees and the colors. The green palms are swaying, and many are already adorned with white twinkling lights. There is not a stitch of fall left in the stores... or even a stray orange sprinkle. I long to sit in the open arms of fall... but in my busyness, have I forgotten how to rest? I have been going full-steam ahead for weeks now... just placing one foot in front of the other... trying to make it through. But while my feet are running, my heart seems to be lagging behind... and I realize I just need to slow down if I am to enjoy anything at all. My heart need not rush trying to catch up with the world and dive right on into Christmas.
Perhaps there is too much pressure... to feel. Shouldn't it be enough to play with my family the day before Thanksgiving, and mix up those Congo Squares, and maybe a batch of blessings mix? To snuggle up on the couch and wait for those magnificent balloons to fly? To join my parents and share a holiday meal, with God in the midst of it all?
As I lay out these plans... I wonder why I am searching for something I already have. And today... instead of slogging through my blessings and checking them off like a grocery list, I will choose to splash in them.

making your own decision

I watched with anticipation, day after day, as I drove to and from work. Coming soon the sign declared. Props, pallets and finally pumpkins were added to the display as the days in October inched forward. And finally... it was ready. Row after row of Fall had made its way to Florida.

When there was finally a day my calendar did not send me in three directions, the four of us zipped on down to the pumpkin patch in search of Halloween treasure... the pumpkin that would do the Jack-o-lantern honors this year. Walking through the rows of perfect pumpkins, I realized that coming early, before all of the pumpkins begin to rot, has its benefits... and then, upon gazing up at my children, who are not lightening fast decision makers, it occurred to me that once the selection is narrowed down, there are still quite a few advantages!

And so Camden came to me with his pick... and what did I do? I questioned him. I wanted him to look at his choice, and make sure that he would have enough room on the front of the pumpkin to create just the face he wanted. And after just a breath of uncertainty from me, he returned his jack-to-be to it's resting place. And the guilt seeped in. I tried to take back my thought... but it was to late. And this boy, who is so much like his mother, not wanting to ever disappoint, was on the search again. Eric sent an almost-glare my way, and to be fair, I deserved it. Trying desperately to make amends, I went back to Cam and tried to explain my thinking... but most of all tell him that his first choice could be his final choice... and I was sorry for planting that seed of doubt. I eventually convinced him that I was sincere and after another trip or two up and down the rows, he made his way back to the One.

During this whole exchange, Laura was traipsing up row and down, and was totally on her own making her pick. Surprisingly, she found one in record time and then had more time just to wander and enjoy. And I was thankful that I had not ruined the adventure for both of my kids...

Even now... with our pumpkins adding a splash of orange to our front step... I am thinking about what I said... what I did to Camden. And I make a heartfelt plea to my own self... to let go. But along with my own lesson learned comes gratitude. For his will... beginning to stretch and grow and try out uncharted territory. He was able to (finally) push my two cents out of his head and go with his gut. At twelve. And for that, I am thankful. Because for me... it took a lot more than double the years for me to step out boldly from my own Mother's advice and urgings. Her advice was always sincere... and I never felt pushed... I just always wanted to please. And I so I suppose that I was being pushed... but by my own heart. Looking back, I realize that starting this blog was the first time that I have actually listened to my mother's advice and outright rejected it. Her cautions were from her heart... but my own heart had already committed itself. In stepping out on my own decision, and having her come back and thank me (over and over!) for pushing her advice aside, I have learned a valuable lesson. And while I may falter, time and again, I am learning to pass it on. My mistakes may come in a pumpkin patch or over a cooking lesson... but I hope when it is really important that I can step back and let my own kids tumble forth, confident in what they think without worrying that their choice will disappoint me...

catching up

Today is Friday... and I can breathe. Although my actual breaths are still mildly labor-some, my mind is breathing easier... on a break from catching up. After a couple weeks of being sick, and missing almost three days of work, Monday found me with that deer in the headlights look. I never did write my A to Z Monday post... even though I was full of "N" ideas... like nice, and nephew, and niece. Tuesday did not find me any saner... and I know for certain that I could have used those Tuesday Eyes that Emily chatted about. As the week went on (and on and on and on) I remembered why I don't usually succumb to being sick. A Mom doesn't have time to be sick... and this one certainly doesn't have the energy to run at the pace it takes to catch up. But there doesn't seem to be a choice... so I keep on running, all the while trying to ignore that little bit of discomfort that still sets in my ears.
And after a week of checking off all of the must-do things that don't leave room for the wanna-do things, I am amazed how disconnected I feel... from my blogging friends. Because as much as I have missed writing, I have missed reading. I have missed the heart-warming comments... giving as well as receiving. And I realize that my blogging friends are not at all make-believe... they are a very present part of my real life. Some of my real-life friends probably could have told me that... since I frequently share stories and ideas that I happen across in this bloggy world.
So today is Friday... my day. And I am thankful... for the chance to catch up at my own pace, or not.

honestly...

Once and a while I stop to look at my life... and realize that I am not the person that I dreamed I would be. Like most other young women, I dreamed I would be that perfect Mom. The Mom who changes décor with the seasons. The Mom who never yells. The Mom who teaches her kids how to cook, then lets them have free reign in the kitchen. The Mom who has all of the kids over to her house. The Mom that keeps everything nice and tidy... and puts on a fabulous spread at dinner time. Are there Moms out there like this? Yes... I suppose there are.

Often... I wonder how people look at me and think I am this woman. Sure, it is a compliment that someone might think I have it all together... but is it reality? Not for me. Sure... I can pull off some extraordinary things. The best red velvet cupcakes you ever ate. A Mexican feast fit for a rowdy group of friends. Beautifully decorated cakes. Creative Halloween costumes. There are people who refer to me as “Martha Stewart.” A compliment? I suppose. But reality? Nope. Because anything extraordinary takes a great deal of effort to pull off... and I seriously do not have the motivation or the stamina to keep it up on a daily basis.

I am the Mom who has a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. I am the Mom who doesn’t keep her dust bunnies in the corner, but lets them race across the floor. I am the Mom who can’t seem to finish a Bible study that I really wanted to complete… and the Mom who hardly ever just sits with God. I am certainly thankful that He is gracious enough to put up with this... and He lets me talk to Him all day long. Lately I think... I am the Mom who needs a really good cry.

I am who I am. The girl God designed me to be… and while I am accepting her here and now, I am hoping that He isn’t quite finished with me yet. So... I am not the person I dreamed I would be… and I’m okay with that. God has a better plan that I could ever dream anyway. And He is at work in me… everyday. He makes me real. Honestly… who could ask for more?

Still wonerin' why I'm here. Still wrestling with my fear
But oh... He's up to something,
And the farther out I go, I've seen enough to know that I'm not here for nothin'
He's up to somethin'

There is hope, for me yet, because God won't forget, all the plans he's made for me
I have to wait and see, he's not finished with me yet, he's not finished with me yet
-Lyrics from Brandon Heath's Wait and See


Thanks, Kat...
for this award. That I inspire you is a gift... to my heart.

maybe i should stop to think...

When it comes to painting, or hair, I am not necessarily… careful. I do not lament over the perfect color sample… or even paint those little splotches on the wall, to see what looks best in the light. Nope… I dive in, hold my breath and tell myself that it’s only paint, and I can just paint over it. Or in the case of hair, which it was this morning, that it’ll grow back. It has been ages since I decided to let Anna cut in the bangs… and once she did, I was thrilled. I could see! And that one chunk of hair that kept separating itself from the rest finally seemed to stay in place. For a while at least. Over the past couple of weeks I have noticed that the same little chunk has decided that it needs to set itself apart again. And it has been driving me crazy. As I took the scissors (that I keep in my make-up drawer for just such a time) to my hair, I did recall that I have a hair appointment this Friday… only two days away… but I let those scissors snip away, regardless. It was only an inch or so that I added to my bangs… but holding the three inches of length, in my hand rather than on my head, stopped me in my tracks.
What did I do?
Maybe it was just the thing I needed. Or, if not, I'll just wait for it to grow back.
What bothers me more is that I am going to have to fess up on Friday…

tears on sunday

We have our fair share of scuffles… but usually nothing that the Crooked-Mom-Eye look won’t stop. And it is fairly rare that one of our children just downright disobeys. But it happens. Or… it happened. This weekend. Somehow… I was able to keep my cool.
Over the years I have learned that it is most effective to let them stew and wonder what I’m thinking… but really, my heart was broken. Not necessarily about what was done… but about the lie that followed. I suppose that over the years I have also learned that a flash of anger is easier to set aside than lingering disappointment. So I sat in the living room and waited it out. I sat, with my broken heart… while he was in his room doing who knows what. And then I sat some more… until I couldn’t stand it for another minute.
He was tucked under his blanket in his bed, reading. Sitting myself down on the side of his bed, I sighed. He curled around and sat looking at me… with red-rimmed eyes that looked ready to spill. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me? And in that moment I was thankful for the misstep. Thankful… for the chance to remind him that I will always forgive him. Thankful... for the love that God placed in my heart and the certainty in knowing that there isn’t a thing in this world that either of my children could do that would stop me from loving them. Thankful… that my son, closer now to thirteen than twelve, could throw himself into my arms and hang on...letting relief wash over him.
I am hopeful... that it will be a long while before we sit in disappointment again and that the lesson has been learned. But God does have a way of working good into the bad, and since I am trying to see the brighter side, I will say that I surely love seeing His work.

let there be light

It happens gradually... so much so that you hardly notice... until one day, you are standing in the dark. I let it last about four days... this standing in the dark... before I actually even began to seek light. But it was time... and after about five minutes of very simple labor, I was thrilled to flip the switch and let the light of those four bulbs do their job. My kitchen was once again filled with light!

I suppose I could make a list of excuses for not tackling this very simple, less than five minute job... the trouble of getting out the step ladder, actually having to walk all the way to the laundry room to find the light bulbs, wanting to wait to change them until it was really worth my while... or just waiting for someone else to do it for me. But I finally just gave in and pushed all of the reasons to the side... because I was tired of working in the dark. Of course... the darkness hides a lot. Once my room was awash with light, the crumbs, the dust... the ketchup splashed on the cabinets all showed their ugly faces. I knew they were there all along... but it was easy to ignore them when the light was dim. Holding things up in the light? It means no excuses. It means showing everything... good, or bad. It means showing... me.

I think I've been sitting in the dark for a while. Hiding from the world. Sitting still... and not reaching out. Letting my life mark time, instead of marching boldly ahead. Light has a funny way of showing off the good the bad and the ugly... but I am reminded that when I stand in the light of Jesus, the bad and the ugly are pushed to the shadows and then swept up under that glorious carpet of forgiveness. Easier than changing a light bulb or flipping a switch...

i feel good

I do. Feel good. As he was driving us home from the doctor this morning, Eric looked over at me and said You feel better. And when I stopped to think about it, he was right. He usually is (don't tell him I said that!) It is one more thing, on a long list of things, that I love about him. He knows me. He knows when I am beyond handling the moment, and when I have returned to myself... and he somehow adjusts his behavior accordingly. In the aftermath of this week, I have certainly been beyond what I could handle on my own... and perhaps a little cry-babyish about it along the way. I swam in fear and worried about the pain... and I confessed those sins over and over again to God... along with apologizing for asking Him twice (or more!) when I knew He heard me the first time. And as always, I am thankful for His beautiful and bountiful grace that allows me to be the mess I am and learn from it.

And so the verdict is that I am healthy again. A short, but painful, quick fix and I am better... until the next time. But maybe I won't procrastinate as long next time. My little stretching of the urethra is practically nothing compared to so many other things that could have been wrong, or that others are going through right this very minute... but when it is you, or a friend, or a family member, even a molehill appears mountainous from the bedside. And so... with my throat feeling better from the breathing tube, and the catheter no longer strapped to my leg, I am off to live my life, and maybe clean my house... which is as covered by muck & mire as my heart has occasionally been this week.

yesterday i was supermom

There are days I feel the need to be SuperMom... and on those days there is usually some kind of lesson involved. For me. Like... you don't need to be SuperMom, you need to let Me be in control... it's My job. And for a few weeks, I sit back and let God take charge... until I feel the need to be in charge again, and mess it all up. Like yesterday. I had commitments like crazy... to a group that is close to my heart... and couldn't let down. I had lunch to serve to 30 starving band kids... and then, dinner, too. And I had to make dinner for the instructors. You know, a nice dinner. Not fancy... just good, stick-to-your-ribs food. It was the first time I was cooking for them... and if you know me, I wanted it to be impressively delicious. Not necessarily for the compliments, but just so they would know I cared.

But it was my day off.
And my kids are home.
And I was sick on my last few days off.
So, I decided to do it anyway... to fit it all in.

I worked all morning to get my dinner & desserts "almost done," then I sat down with my kids and gave them the scoop:
1. We can try to go to the water park, but here is the deal- be ready when I get home from lunch. Ready... like waiting to get in the car.
2. This is going to be a short trip... we have to be back in the car by 3pm.
3. We are really taking a chance... weather, timing, etc. It has to be go-with-the-flow.
4. And I can't go on the slides and get my hair wet... because I will not have time to shower before I have to go and serve dinner!

I could see the light in their eyes... and hear the anticipation in their voices as they scurried off to get ready. I wanted to do this for them. And for me. To give them part of my day off... just for them. I knew I could be setting myself up for disaster... possibly a major one... but for them, I had to try.

And it worked out. I felt like God indulged me. For those two hours, we floated in the lazy river... I watched my kids on the diving boards and the slides... and we floated some more. I even had time for a heart to heart with my daughter when Cam hit the slides again and Laura & I were just floating down the river, hand in hand. God knew I needed this time to play... with my kids. And I made sure that I made the most of it.

And I managed to get my food done and served on time... macaroni & cheese, two chicken & biscuit casseroles- one with broccoli, one without, and cupcakes... red velvet & pumpkin.


Yesterday I was SuperMom... it is not a job I can handle on a daily basis though. And I am thankful that God does remind me of that now and again... because it is exhausting. I fought off the exhaustion for a bit... but by 7:30 pm.... I was fast asleep.

my real life

It's almost two weeks since my kiddos have abandoned vacationing and settled back into real life... and that goes for me, too. Even though I wasn't really vacationing. It has been an adjustment... once again fitting in the "must-do's" that vacations just don't demand. Though the floor in the piano room has finally been reclaimed... the laundry has begun to pile up by the washer... and the dishes, that are once again feeding four, are seeming to overflow the sink. There are tiny action figures peeking out from beneath a sofa... and armchairs are marking time in a waiting book. Somehow, there seem to be fewer hours in the day...

But there are also more I love yous ... and helping hands. There are sweet bedtime kisses... and rumbling laughter and flying penguins. And when I take a moment to push the mess from my mind, I realize that there isn't much more in life that my heart requires...

Sitting down and searching my heart for a Tuesday gift to unwrap is one of the best parts of my week. Reflecting on what makes my heart beat... my face smile. And it teaches me to seek out the treasures that God graces us with in every day.