All That to Say

Day 10: Streams

2012-02-14T06:36:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, when I am lost in the midst of a mundane task, oh say, like putting on make-up or blow drying my hair, I let my mind wander, often onto very stupid inane thoughts.

My stream of consciousness this morning:

(In the background I hear Nitro say she wants a cupcake for breakfast, and Mike says she can't have one, but that maybe I'll make muffins for breakfast tomorrow.)

Why is it okay to eat muffins for breakfast but not cupcakes? I mean, cupcakes are just muffins with frosting.

Why does the thought of broccoli for breakfast sound so gross? I mean, I like broccoli. Or for that matter, why does the thought of dinner for breakfast sound so horrible, when we eat breakfast for dinner all the time?

I start to put on my make-up

It cannot be good for my skin to rub it so much in the process of putting on make-up. They should invent a way to put on make-up that doesn't actually require you to touch your skin at all! Oh yeah, they have. I saw that infomerical on airbrush make-up. How is it that airbrush makeup gets on your skin but not your clothes? I don't get that.

I wash the make-up off my hands.

Why can't they make a bathroom faucet that doesn't get water spots? For real. Women have been trying to get the water spots off of bathroom faucets for decades. Instead of making cleaners that we can clean it with, (cleaners that eat your skin off by the way!) why don't they just make a faucet that won't get spotty?

If I was brilliant, I would totally invent that faucet and women everywhere would say my name with reverence! HA.

Ugh, it's going to be a nasty weather day. Guess I better use the anti-humitidy products today. Maybe I'll just put my hair up. No. I've worn it up the last few days. Mike's probably sick of my hair being up. See, they can invent "anti-humidity" hair products, but they can't invent an "anti-spot" faucet.

All that to say, I just wanted you all to know that my brain does not draw a spiritual analogy from everything! Sometimes I just think dumb thoughts.

Day 9: Dreams

2012-02-13T04:48:00.000-08:00

I was kind of wired to be good with kids. Clearly God intended for that to be so, because from my earliest memories I can recall thinking that all I wanted to be when I grew up was a mommy (except for that short time period when I wanted to be a model, but well . . .)

From my earliest days I was good with kids. I was already babysitting by the age of 10 (I was mature for my age). My decision to become a teacher surprised no one. My calling into full time vocational children's ministry didn't seem too surprising either. And even when Mike and I decided to adopt the girls, my dad and step-mom said, "It's like you two were created to parent."

For over 20 years, I worked in some form or fashion in Children's Ministry, so never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would stop. But I did. And the man we hired to replace me was an answer to prayer. No really. An actual answer. Well maybe more the fulfillment of a dream than an answer to prayer.

I decided to blog this story because two weeks ago, our Children's Ministry was rebranded. Revamped. Redesigned. Recharged. It looks nothing like the Children's Ministry that I led just one short year ago. On the weekend of its launch, several people asked, "Is this hard for you to watch? Everything that you were instrumental in doing just changing right before your eyes?"

And my reply?

"No, not at all. In fact, it's the opposite of difficult. It's like watching God tell you something and then seeing it come to fruition."

Here's the story.

About 1.5 years ago, I dreamed a dream several nights in a row. I was being chased by a band of demons, and at the end of that dream, I hid from them in the attic of a quiet family. As I sat and watched the family interact with each other, I felt completely safe. And then a big angel appeared next to me and simply said, "You can stay. And you'll be safe here. But they'll all die."

Dreams like that freak me out. Especially when I dream them over and over and over. But finally I figured out that God meant the Children's Ministry. He was telling me that I needed to leave the Children's Ministry. I had long since realized that if we were going to go to the next level, we needed someone who possessed a skill set that I didn't have, namely a creative production ability. I'm creative in a lot of ways, but the ability to create a dynamic, Children's Worship Environment was just not in me. And I knew that I needed to leave. So I did.

So watching us go through the process of hiring my replacement, and then seeing the Children's Ministry come to life in an INCREDIBLE way, because he had the skills I didn't have. . . well, it was pretty amazing. I got to watch God fulfill a dream that He showed me.

Maybe all that sounds crazy to you, but truly, it was amazing that He let me stick around to see it unfold.

All that to say, pay attention to your dreams. They might be telling you more than to "skip the pizza before bed."

Day 8: That's My Jesus Oil

2012-02-08T19:43:00.000-08:00

We had a healing service tonight at our church. For those of you who might not understand this, it means that we gathered together, worshipped Jesus, and asked God to heal our afflictions, whether emotional, physical or spiritual.

We took the girls with us for a couple of reasons. One, because they love to sing. And Wednesdays are a good night for little children to be in the service. It's a lot less formal. And two, because they still struggle with some things in their past (emotionally struggle) and we wanted to ask God to heal their precious little hearts and minds.

As we waited for the portion of the service where they would invite people forward for prayer, Shortstack noticed all of the musicians on the stage. She said, "Mama, is he playing his piano for Jesus?" And I said, "Yes."

"Is that one playing his drums for Jesus?"

"Yes." (in my head I thought, "There is a keyboard player, a pianist, a drummer, 3 guitar players and a vocalist on stage, I wonder if she is going to ask me if every SINGLE one of them is playing for Jesus.") . . . she did.

"Is he playing his guitar for Jesus? Is he playing his guitar for Jesus? Is he playing his guitar for Jesus? Is she singing for Jesus?" YES, YES Oh my gosh YES!

She sat quietly for a minute and then she said, "Mama, Jesus is so so happy right now."

smile.

Then, at the portion of the service where we were invited to come forward for healing, we went. And the elder who prayed over us annointed each of our foreheads with oil. Shortstack was in awe. Nitro wanted to touch everyone's oil. :)

As we walked out of the worship center at the end of the prayer time, Shortstack ever so lightly touched her forehead and said, "That's my Jesus oil. It's from Jesus."

smile.

All that to say, I love the sweet and innocent way little children talk about Jesus. They're just in such awe of everything about Him. Maybe that's why He tells us to be like a little child.

Day 7: I Love You, Mike Jones

2012-02-02T16:08:00.000-08:00

I remember our first date so incredibly well. I was at a bowling tournament (yes . . . a bowling tournament). Funny thing is that I was taking bowling because I had to transfer out of my Beginner Jogging class at LSU because I passed out on the track after running a mile. HA! If they could only see me now!

Anyway, Mike and I had arranged for him to pick me up for our first date at the Student Union at LSU. He was supposed to pick me up AFTER the tournament, but he came early to watch me. My friends were a little surprised to see him there. And even more surprised by the familiarity with which he placed his hand on my back to let me know he was there.

Mike had a bit of an unsavory reputation back in those days. He was . . . ummmm . . . well . . . what you would have called a "ladies man" back in the day. True Story. So when I told my friends that I was going to go on a date with Mike Jones, I got a pretty common response. It went something like this: "WHAT???? THE Mike Jones????? WHY????"

I agreed to go out on a date with Mike because he helped me get through my freshman algebra class and he said it was the least I could do. Just one date. So I went. And truthfully, I didn't expect too much.

But I was so surprised by him. He was funny, and generous, and kind, and silly. He talked passionately about his family and bugs (yes bugs, but it was strangely cute! He even slammed on his brakes because he saw some special moth, and he was hoping he hadn't run over it!)

And so we had a second date. And a third date. And on our third date he told me that he knew he was going to marry me someday.

And he did.

All that to say, first dates are filled with the promise of an unknown future. I love promise. And unknowns. And futures. Here's to our next 32 years of first dates. I love you Mike Jones.

Day 6: Justice

2012-01-24T06:27:00.000-08:00

I was reading my Bible this morning and I read these verses in Psalm 36.

Lord, your love reaches to the heavens, your loyalty to the skies.
Your goodness is as high as the mountains.
Your justice is as deep as the great ocean.

For some reason, I felt the greatest sense of peace wash over me as I read those words. I read them again.

Lord, your love reaches to the heavens, your loyalty to the skies.

Your goodness is as high as the mountains.
Your justice is as deep as the great ocean.

My eyes became fixed upon that last line.

Your justice is as deep as the great ocean.

Justice is a word I think about a lot lately because of the girls. We truly do not know what will happen with them because there is a justice system involved, one that by its own admission is blind.

But the justice of the Lord is not blind. His justice sees all. His justice bears out an eternal perspective. I can trust it. Because it is as deep as the great ocean. And because He is good. His goodness is as high as the mountains.

And though trusting His goodness and His justice does not mean that things will absolutely turn out the way I think they should, I can trust that they will turn out the way that He has chosen. And because I know that He is good and just and righteous and holy and infinitely loving, I trust His decisions for me. And for my family.

All that to say, I'm so grateful for a justice that runs as deep as the great ocean. I don't know exactly how deep that is, but it sounds pretty vast. And if God is for us, who can be against us?

Day 5: Maybe You Oughta Clean Out Your Ears

2012-01-19T06:42:00.000-08:00

Here in Toddlerville, our vocabulary is . . . well . . . what you might call, adaptive. By that, I mean that the girls, whose language is not yet 100%, make up words, adjust the pronunciation of words (saying them with their cute little speech impediments) or shorten the name of something in order to be able to communicate what they want, without having to use a lot of words.

Some examples, if something is breakable, they say "breakabee."
Music is "mikik." Lips are "bips."
If they want to watch "The Polar Express" they say that they want to watch "train," or they say "seven doors" if they want to watch "Snow White."

Usually we get what they want, but sometimes it can be a bit, ummm . . . well . . . difficult. We play a game where we repeatedly say, "what?" and they repeat. And we say, "what?" and they repeat. And we say "what?" and they repeat. Eventually they raise their voices. This does not help. Soon, they just drag us to what they want. And then we say "oh!

I was thinking the other day about this and how much it mimics the way I interact with God. He tries to tell me something, and I say, "What?" and then He tries to tell me something and I say, "What?" and then He says it in a different way, eventually physically SHOWING me what He wants. At which point I say, "Oh!"

The difference in the two scenarios is that the reason I can't understand the girls is because they can't speak clearly. Something is keeping them from being about to communicate clearly. The reason I can't understand God is because I can't hear clearly. Something is keeping me from being able to understand Him or sometimes from being able to hear Him at all.

I have discovered that more often than not, the "something" that's blocking my ears when it comes to hearing God is unforgiveness. It's funny to me how adept unforgivenss is at hiding.
So I make it a part of my daily time with God just to ask Him if there is something I am holding onto, some form of unforgiveness that is keeping me from hearing Him. And when He shows it to me, I release it. (I make this sound easy. Often it isn't) But once I have released my bitterness, anger, and unforgiveness (they seem to travel as a group), then I find that I can hear God clearly.
All that to say, as my grandma used to say, "If you cain't hear, maybe you oughta clean out your ears!"

Day 4: Anger Sucks

2012-01-13T07:05:00.000-08:00

My friend, Cathy Henry, and I were talking one day about relationships and how difficult they can be at times. I said, "You know, sometimes there are people that suck the life out of you." (I'm sure I am THAT person to someone!)

She said, "You know what I think sucks the life out of us? Anger."

That set me to thinking (I tried rewording that sentence in several ways, but no matter what I sounded like I was raised in the country, so I finally just settled on "set me to thinking.")

How many things have I gotten mad about in my life, that I don't actually even remember being mad about now? And, of the things I can still remember being mad about, how many of those things matter now?

How much of my life has indeed been sucked away by anger, either my own or someone else's directed at me? I would venture to say a lot. And by sucked away, I literally mean it has ERODED part of my life.

Anger has a physical, negative effect on the body. It can create a blood sugar imbalance; it can decrease bone density, suppress the body's immune response and make it susceptible to chronic inflammation; it can suppress thyroid function, slowing down the body's metabolism; it can impair the brain's thinking ability and increase blood pressure. Anger can raise your heart rate to 180 beats a minute. It can raise your blood pressure from 120 over 80 to 220 over 130, perhaps even higher. It also immediately dumps a massive amount of cortisol into your body to suppress and manage the stress on your body that stress causes. And in case you haven't read much about it, cortisol is called the "fat hormone."

So to recap, anger makes you fat, sick and slow, eventually killing you if you let it.

I'm not saying all anger is wrong. I get that some of it is justified. It's an emotion God gave us so it must have some value.

HOWEVER, laughter (actually the "anticipation of laughter") brings all kinds of crazy healing hormones to your body, beefing up your immune system, circulatory system, skeletal system, even stimulating good health at the cellular level.

I know this is very technical today but here's my point. Quit wasting time being angry. I'm talking to all of us, not one of us. Truly, 5, 10, 15, 20 years from now, you're probably not going to remember what you're angry about today. And even if you do remember then, it probably won't matter to you.

All that to say, Laugh. A lot. Out Loud. Until you cry or wet your pants. And then laugh some more. Make others laugh. Enjoy laughing. Enjoy the laughter of others. Just laugh.

(PS - All that technical stuff I borrowed from some website, but forgot to write down where, so I can't give them credit. Hopefully they won't be angry about that.)

Day 3: Best

2012-01-10T09:24:00.000-08:00

When my son, Jacob, was born, his older brother was only 16 months old. I had often joked with my friends who were having their kids so close together that I "knew what was causing that" and could help them out if they wanted my wisdom.

So I think it was God's idea of humbling me a bit to let me get pregnant with my second child so soon after the birth of my first one.

From very early on Zack loved his brother, but I don't know that the feeling was totally mutual. Jacob developed a cry as a tiny baby that was his, "Zack is about to hurt me, steal my toy, hit me" cry, which later became his "Zack is about to hurt me, steal my toy, hit me, leave me out, lock me out, punch me out" yell. And the fact that Jacob needed to develop this cry/yell is also proof that Zack may or may not have always been loving toward his little brother.

So I prayed. I prayed that they would love each other. I prayed that they would be friends. I prayed that they would be life-long friends. Best friends. I prayed that they would be there for each other, challenge each other, see the good in each other, stick up for each other.

And seeing Jacob perform his duties as Zack's best man helped me see the fruition of those prayers. I would have to say that Jacob was the best Best Man I have ever known. He performed his Best Man duties as though Zack's marriage depended upon it. He went the extra mile.

And don't think we weren't a little bit worried at times that Jacob would remember everything. Because he can be, well, . . . er . . . shall we say, "forgetful" from time to time. But not when it came to his Best Man duties. He planned a Bachelor party. Made sure people got their tuxes. All the usual stuff.

But he also went above and beyond in some areas.

When it was time for Zack and Christina to see each other for the first time on their wedding day, (what they call the "First Glance" these days that actually happens before the ceremony) Jacob protected that moment, guarding the door where they could see each other without prying eyes.

After the wedding ceremony, he picked up their car from the hotel, cleaned it out, then returned early the next morning to take them to the airport. He went to their apartment and helped clean it and put away some of their things so they wouldn't have to come home to a dirty apartment.

But the best thing of all was his best man toast. I asked him if he would give it to me to print in its entirety, but he said I would just have to remember it from memory. Alas, I cannot. But what I recall is that it told of Jacob's love for his brother. Of their friendship that had spanned a lifetime, their lifetime, to date. And I knew that my prayers had been answered.

Jacob told me this the other day, he said, "I can't imagine what it would take that could make two brothers not be friends. I can't picture Zack and I not being best friends for the rest of our lives."

All that to say, he's the best.

Day 2: I Now Pronounce You

2012-01-06T21:57:00.000-08:00

I don't know that I am a gifted enough writer to capture with words all that my heart and mind have taken in over the past few days. My son, a boy that I gave birth to just a few short years ago, has become a man and taken a wife. He is no longer mine, but hers. A shift has taken place in the universe, one that will be imperceptible to most, but one that is dramatic and overwhelming and welcomed in mine.

There are truly no words to capture what it feels like to watch your son grow up and get married. The days preceding the wedding were filled with wedding details, so I did not allow myself the luxury of deep introspection. I simply had no time for it. And the day of the wedding was equally filled with details, though I confess that once or twice I thought about the day, the wedding, their lives together, and I cried a few tears. There was a moment when I was putting on my makeup, just hours before the ceremony, when I let a tear fall down my cheek, followed quickly by an unexpected sob. There is a finality in a wedding ceremony. Your children are commanded by God to leave their parents and cleave to one another. That's pretty significant and quite frankly warrants a few tears on the part of the woman who carried and gave birth to those children.

I cried a few other times, but again, the moments that emotion welled up in me were silly and seemingly insignificant, but somehow were powerful. I cried when I noticed that Zack's legs were shaking a little. He was bouncing lightly on his heels. And I smiled and then cried knowing that I might be the only person in the room to notice that my son was nervous. And I cried when the Pastor said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce to you for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Zachary Jones." Silly place to cry. But all of a sudden I thought, "What? That sounds so strange and wonderful and weird all at the same time."

But beyond that, the rehearsal dinner and the wedding were absolutely incredible. I was so proud of the toast my husband made at the rehearsal dinner. (I'll mess this up, but trust me he was so eloquent) He said, "I remember when he (Zack) stood for the first time on his wobbly legs and started to walk across the floor and I wondered if he was ready, if he'd make it across the room. But he did. And I remember when he tried to ride a bike and I wondered if he'd make it down the street. And he did. And I remember when he learned to drive a car and I wondered if he'd make it around the block. And he did. Because he was ready. And he's ready now for this next step of his life."

I wish I could recap every moment for you, but you would be bored, so I will spare you all of the details and give you my highlights.

Jacob gave the best "Best Man" toast I have ever heard. His love for his brother was so apparent. Their friendship throughout the years and his deep understanding for the man his brother had become made my heart leap. Zack and Christina laughed (as did the audience) and they teared up (as did the audience) several times (especially over the fact that Christina called Jacob "Max" for quite a while when they first met.) Truly one of my highlights.

My daughters walking down the aisle in their little princess dresses being the prettiest little flower girls I've ever seen (though I might be partial.) Followed by Shortstack sitting promptly in my lap and then saying in a very disappointed voice, "Mommy, nobody clapped for me!"

My husband dancing the Cupid Shuffle. (True story)

My dad and mom hitting the dance floor and being silly and just really having a great time!

All of the six Jones's, and our newest family member, Christina Jones, all hitting the dance floor together to dance the first dance. And to show you just how incredible it was, I went to get the girls (Nitro and Shortstack) to see if they wanted to dance, but they had just been served the wedding cake, so I thought it was a long shot. As soon as I asked them if they wanted to dance, their cake was abandoned as they made a bee-line for the dance floor. A highlight moment.

I laughed until I cried. And then I cried. Because I'm allowed. I gave birth to the man that I saw stand on a stage and solemnly vow to take Christina Taylor to be his wife. And in that moment he ceased to be mine.

And though the time that he was mine has been so special and overwhelmingly filled with love, my prayer is that it will be quickly eclipsed by the love he lavishes on her daily for the rest of their lives.

All that to say . . . (insert sigh here).

Day 1: Let's Get It On

2012-01-01T06:01:00.000-08:00

I always love typing "Day 1." I actually smiled a little bit this year as I typed, "Day 1," because in my head I heard William Shatner's voice saying, "Star date, Day 1." Why. . .? I have no idea, which I suppose is what made me giggle.

2012 feels a little scary to me, if I'm totally honest. I'm usually in the "oh it's ripe with endless possibility" mood, all giddy with the unknown ahead. But for some reason, giddy is not how I feel.

I'm not afraid of 2012. Just . . . well . . . apprehensive. And honestly, I could cave to apprehension (which is really just worry dressed up in a more expensive dress). But I won't. Instead I will hold steadfastly to what I know to be true.

Day 1 is here. Waiting to be breathed, and lived, and consumed with joy and zeal.

And Day 2 is not yet written (at least anywhere that I can read its contents).

All that to say, "Here's to you Day 1. Let's get it on."

Day 114: A Full Year

2011-12-28T12:09:00.000-08:00

It's funny to me how melancholy I seem to get at this time of year. Not sad or depressed. Perhaps retrospective is a better word. I find myself looking back over the year, remembering things with joy or sorrow, tenderness, fondness, and perhaps even a desire to turn the clock back and relive, redo, retouch some moments.

It was an incredibly full year. It has been our first full calendar year with the girls. They have grown from wearing a size 18 months to a 3T in one year, gaining almost 10 pounds and 5 inches. That just seems phenomenal to me. Of course they have grown in so many other ways as well. Their little hearts are healing and we get to see it lived out. Love does indeed heal. I wish I could make a list of all the little things they do that I love, but I suppose the ones at the top of the list would be the way they greet me in the mornings, the way they pray for healing for others, and the way they prance around in their little "click-clacks" putting on chapstick.

Zack got engaged to such an incredible girl. They will get married in just a few short days, and he will no longer be ours. He will be hers. They will be "them" not "us." That's a little hard to adjust my mind to, though certainly I am happy for him, for them.

Jacob was in and out all year long. It's kind of weird having him be away at school AGAIN. But, he's getting on with his life, working on a career that he will enjoy (someday, when he finishes with school!) He's been incredibly sweet to come home for really special occasions, though he's had to make a 3 hour trip every time.

Mike quit his job and started his own pest control company called Maximum Pest Control. I'm gonna need all of you to call him and have him start treating your homes (shameless plug? Absolutely). He's loving it most days, though owning your own business is always such hard work and STARTING one is even harder.

We filed for permanent legal custody of the girls in August. It feels a little like we took our seats, strapped ourselves in, pulled down the safety bar across our laps and are holding on for dear life as we ride this crazy ride. God knows (and He's the only one!) how this thing will all end. So we just live each day like we're going to have them forever.

I left Children's ministry this year too. After a LOT of years doing it, I moved over to Adult Ministry. It's been a weird time of transition for sure. And I miss it sometimes. Not as in, "I wish I was doing Children's Ministry" miss it, just I miss the comfort and ease of doing something that I can do in my sleep. :)

Oh yeah, and I ran a marathon! Holy Cow! And my body is still paying the price of that! Well, my right foot is! (I'm fairly sure I just exceeded the use of the exclamation point as a form of punctuation.) Hopefully my right foot will heal soon, and I will run again soon. My brain needs it.

All that to say, it's been a full year. And 2012 holds promises yet to be discovered.

Day 113: Simple Christmas Lived Out Report Card

2011-12-27T06:43:00.000-08:00

I thought since I'd pronounced it a "Simple Christmas" in following with what my church was doing that I should give myself a report card. Here goes:

Simple Worship: More Jesus, Less Me B-
I wish I could say my time alone with Jesus was more rich, but it wasn't. Somehow I still found myself incredibly busy, though much less than usual. Probably the most significant thing I did in this area was focus on Jesus as the reason for the celebration. There wasn't much ado about Santa (though I'm not opposed to the Big Red Man). We talked a lot with the girls about Jesus and his birth and the celebration surrounding it.

Simple Generosity: More Giving, Less Spending A
This was a very challenging area for me because I am all about the buying of the Christmas presents. I spent less than $500 for my entire family, including 4 parents, a husband, 2 sons, 2 daughters, 1 soon to be daughter in law, and our siblings. Plus ALL of my baked goods that I gave to over 30 people. It does not cover the coffee I bought for a fireman at Starbucks or an extravagant tip I gave to the girl at Sonic. But all in all, I spent way less (and I mean WAY less!) I do think I could have served others better. I don't know that I did that as well as I could have. So maybe I would give myself an A-.

Simple Presence: More Time, Less Hurry B
Well, for reasons beyond my control (I hear the excuses coming) I did okay in this area. I attended 1 Christmas Party, and I gave it. I planned to attend two others but I had childcare issues for one of them and sick kids for the other one. So, I wasn't too caught up in the hustle and bustle. I decided the weeks before Christmas were not the best time to catch up with everyone I knew. I did 98% of all of my shopping online. I didn't do some things that I would have liked to do, but 10 years from now, I won't remember what I didn't get accomplished. I won't remember the drive to see lights that didn't happen, or the decorating that didn't get done. But I will remember rolling out cookies with the girls (trust me, I WILL remember that!) And I will remember other time well spent with people I love.

All that to say, I can do better. But I'd say it was a good first start. Merry Christmas.

Day 112: Cookies

2011-12-13T14:55:00.000-08:00

It's funny how things become traditions. Ever notice you do something more than once (especially at church!) and it's automatically a "tradition?!" Some things that get passed down don't even make any sense after a few years. But we keep on doing them anyway, even though we don't know why!

I had a friend tell me that for years when she cooked a ham, she always cut off both ends. She didn't really know why she did it, but that's how her mom always did it, so she just assumed it made it taste better. Once, when she asked her mom why they cut off the end of the ham, her mom said, "Because that's what my mom always did." So then she asked her grandma why she cut off the ends of the ham and her grandma died laughing (not literally died . . .) She said, "Honey I've always cut the ends off of my ham because my roasting pan is too small for the whole thing to fit!"

Like I said, sometimes "traditions" get passed down and we don't even know why we do them.

Our family has a very special tradition that we simply call "Cookies." Every year our family bakes and decorates sugar cookies. And while this holiday tradition in and of itself does not sound significantly different than what millions of other people do this time of year, this tradition is a "bit" different, because well . . .we are Joneses, and we are . . . well . . . a "bit" different. :)

"Cookies" started in 1995 when we moved to The Woodlands. Mike was a deacon at Crossroads Baptist Church, and each year we would bake and decorate cookies, then we would deliver them all to the widows for whom he cared.
And because these cookies were for sweet little old ladies, I wanted them to be extra special. So for months I experimented with sugar cookie dough until I found just the right one. And then I experimented and found the most delicious icing that dries to a delicious goodness that literally makes the cookie melt in your mouth. Yum.

Eventually his list of widows became quite large, so we had to bake and decorate TONS of cookies, and we realized that our little family of four just couldn't meet the demand any longer. So . . . we turned it into a competion.

Each year, on the night of "Cookies" we invite a family to join us for this special night of creativity. I bake A LOT of cookies, and then all of the participants of the night decorate said cookies. Then, at the end of the evening, there is an official judging of the cookies that have been decorated. Each person presents their two best cookies, gives their entries a special name, and then the best cookie is awarded a trophy.

Here we are 16 years later, and we are still doing "Cookies." It's something we love. This year, though I thought he would miss it, Jacob drove three hours just to be home for "Cookies." It's just that special to us.

I don't know if we'll do it forever. But for every year that we get to do it, I will treasure the time that we are together as a family.

All that to say, Cookies 2011, you are over. And I didn't win . . . again. But maybe next year. (Oh, and I promise not to use a new recipe next year, Jacob. I mean, tradition is tradition . . . even if it is just frosting.) And Zack, I totally thought "Candy Corn Christmas" should have won!

Day 111: For a Good Time Call

2011-12-07T04:38:00.001-08:00

So a little vulnerability here today . . . okay a lot. I've been struggling a little bit lately with feeling isolated, alone, lonely . . . it's hard to put the exact word on how I'm feeling because in truth, I don't know exactly how it is that I am feeling.

I tried to explain it to my women's small group a few weeks ago, a group that I have been meeting with for almost two years. And even with them, I struggled to say how exactly it was that I was feeling. Again, because I didn't know that I could totally put it into words.

Yesterday, I chatted with an old friend (via facebook, not surprisingly) and as we were talking, she asked what was wrong . . . said she could hear it in my voice. (which is funny considering we were typing, not talking.) I thought to myself, "should I just say I'm fine and try not to muddle through another explanation of my feelings or should I lay it out there with someone I haven't talked to in months?"

So of course, I started and struggled and stammered and finally she rescued me by saying this, (it's long, but she gave me permission to write it) "You just want to have some fun, Carol. You want to be the kind of friend that people just call on a whim and say "Hey you want to hang out? or You want to go to a movie? or You want to run away to Cancun for a week?"

She said, "You've always been that way. You want to be the fun friend, the funny friend, the light-hearted, good time friend. But you aren't. And you've always struggled with that. And I've seen that desire catch up to you many times, my friend. And that's what's happening now."

In closing she said, "But this is the friend that you ARE. You are the friend that people know they can trust to be honest when they need honesty more than anything else. You are the friend they know will listen to the chaos of their lives and won't judge them. You are the friend that loves so deeply, that no amount of time and distance will ever cause that to end. You are generous, and loving and selfless, often to your detriment. I just wish that someday you could stop wanting to be a different kind of friend than you are, because you are one of the best friends I have ever had. Sometimes you're a little intense for me, you are, because sometimes I DO just want to be crazy and have fun and you AREN'T the first person I think of, but it doesn't mean you aren't fun or funny or a blast to hang out with. You just aren't my "go-to" girl for the fun stuff. But you're my "go-to" girl for the things in my life that require true friendship."

And my take-away was this. The enemy wants to tell me, all the time, what I am not, what I cannot be, what I cannot have. He knows my weakest points, and he POUNDS them as often as he can, until eventually he wears me down. But I just need to embrace who God has created me to be and quit longing so hard to be someone different.

All that to say, real friends tell you the truth, even when it's hard to hear. Real friends, real true friends know you well enough to speak truth into your lives. I guess that's the kind of friends I need and that's the kind of friend I want to be. (But "good time" Carol still wants to come out and play sometimes!)

Day 110: Open Mouth

2011-12-06T07:02:00.001-08:00

People say funny things sometimes, and I find that I am not sure how to take them, so I either take them as a compliment (it just works out better for everyone that way); or I try to make them feel less awkward about what they just said (which usually doesn't work out well for anyone); or I just laugh about it in my head and then tell someone else about it later.

Here are a few recent ones:

"Well if YOU can run, I probably can."

I think this means "well, you're pretty old and out of shape, so if someone in your physical condition can do it, then I probably can too." I have actually tried to think of anything else this could mean, and I just can't come up with anything.

"I got dressed yesterday and I came out of my bedroom and asked my husband, 'Who do I look like from Church? Hint, they always wear cardigans buttoned all the way up with a shirt showing at the bottom?' My husband said, 'Carol Jones.' Carol, you have a signature style!"

At first I thought, "That's cool. I have a style." I felt very complimented. Then later, at home, I thought, "Is that true? Do I wear cardigans all the time? Surely not." Then I got dressed last night and guess what I put on? Yep. (In fact, I'm sitting here in my pajamas with a cardigan on. Oy.) Great, my signature style just screams old lady.

"I have a friend who is about to have twins. She already has a lot of kids, so I don't know why she feels like she needs more. Plus, she's 43. At some point it's just selfish to be so old and have kids. I mean, she'll be 50 when they are 2nd graders. 50?!"

Seriously, I had no idea had to respond to that one. So I just smiled. And decided to take it as a compliment that she must think I'm way under 50!

"You're one of the smartest women in leadership I've ever known. Of course, most women aren't good leaders, so I guess that's like a double compliment."

For real. A double compliment?

All that to say, I'm sure I've had plenty of "open mouth, insert foot" moments. In fact, I KNOW I have. Just read my post entitled, "I Say Stupid Things." Then share some of your experiences! I need a good laugh.

Day 109: Mountains and Molehills

2011-12-01T14:52:00.001-08:00

I have been mentoring a young woman for a few months now, and I have to say that watching her transformation has been one of the single most rewarding experiences of my life. She is working through some really heavy things in her life, and she is doing it with such grace.

No topic is off limits to her, be it physical, spiritual, emotional, or even social. She is tired of living under the weight of such heavy things and her struggle to be freed from it all is nothing short of amazing to watch.

Today, as we were talking about a fairly small change in her life, she said, "I wish I knew why some things are easier for me and others are not. Maybe I am just so used to moving mountains that I trip over molehills."

I have no idea why this particular statement took my breath away, but I suppose if I analyzed it long enough, I would find that the truth of it exists in my own life.

We are not Mountain Movers. The ability to move mountains requires us to rely on God, a fact we seem to grasp quite readily. Without Him we are incapable of overcoming the giant things that find their way into our lives.

But the small things in our lives, the molehills, we tend to think we can handle those on our own. No sense bothering the Big Guy with such trivial nonsense. I mean, He's got a world to rule. Angels to direct. Prayers to answer. So we go it alone. And thus, it is the molehills that trip us up.

All that to say, maybe we should make mountains out of molehills, then trust them to the One who moves mountains. We'd probably be less likely to trip.

Day 108: A Simple Christmas Lived Out

2011-11-29T13:05:00.001-08:00

This year at my church we have all been challenged to live a Simple Christmas. To practice, Simple Generosity (less spending, more giving), Simple Presence (less hurry, more time), and Simple Worship (less me, more Jesus).

I'll confess to you that at the outset, I thought this was an AWESOME idea. But lived out, it is harder than I imagined.

I think the most difficult thing for me has been to have more Jesus and less Santa. All of the fun things I want to do with the girls for Christmas, like photos with Santa, the Elf on the Shelf, all of that, I have set aside to try to help them understand the true meaning of Christmas. It's not that I'm opposed to the big red man. I'm not. I think he's awesome and a lot of fun and a great piece of childhood fantasy that proves to be a very fond childhood memory to this day . . . and I still grew up to love Jesus . . .

And I'm not opposed to the Elf on the Shelf or any of that. So please don't feel the need to email me or message me or tell me why Santa isn't real or is real or we should or shouldn't teach our children such things.

It's just that the girls are so little, and I want their deepest, most foundational understanding of the celebration of Christmas to be about Jesus.

So we are working on the story of Jesus' birth.

This was Shortstack's retelling to me this morning.

"I'n a big girl. I not a baby.

Jedus was a baby. And da angels sing to da sheep.

And dey see da stars. And the big big star.

And dey find da Jedus in da barn. And da cows and da sheep sing.

And Jedus gets married. I love Jedus."

(She's a little confused by Mary and married . . . her world is a little consumed with "married" right now.)

But my point is this; she launched into this entire story about Jesus all from a discussion about why she can't wear diapers anymore because she's a big girl and not a baby. And the word BABY triggered a retelling of the Christmas story.

So she's getting it. Little by little, she's getting it.

All that to say, the simple message of Christmas really is the story of a baby. A baby who changed the world.

Day 107: Stupid Family Things

2011-11-23T19:12:00.001-08:00

We were talking about cooking the giblets of a turkey today, when Zack asked, "What parts of the turkey make up the giblets?"

I rattled off the list with great confidence.

"Well, let's see. There's the heart, the liver, the gizzard, the neck and the tweedler."

"THE WHAT?" Zack asked with great merriment in his voice.

"The tweedler. . . you know, the tail of the turkey," I said.

To which both Mike and Zack died laughing.

Zack: "Mom, I'm pretty sure that word is made up."

Me: "No it's not. It's a real word. Unless my mom was jacking with me and never got around to telling me it was a made up word. And now I'm 50 and still saying it." (I'm laughing pretty hard at this point too.)

Then I had a great idea. I called my dad, put him on speaker phone and said, "Dad, what's a tweedler?" To which he replied, "It's the southern end of a north bound turkey. A turkey tail. Why?"

So apparently, my whole entire extended family believes that a tweedler is a turkey tail. But no one else outside of my family has ever heard the word (at least not in relation to a turkey's tail!)

All that to say, I feel foolish. I'm glad I never said that word to anyone else. Well . . . until now . . .

Day 106: Simply Miraculous

2011-11-16T15:14:00.001-08:00

I started to tell Shortstack the Christmas story the other night. I kinda wish I had one of those Little Tyke's Nativity Sets. I think it would make the telling a little easier.

I don't think I have ever really thought about how bizarre the story of Jesus' birth sounds until I tried to relate it to a 3 year old.

She kept looking at me like, "huh?"

I started saying, "It's almost Christmas! Do you know what Christmas is?"

No response.

"It's Jesus' birthday. Isn't that exciting?"

"We have cake?" she asked.

"Well we could have cake, I suppose."

"You know when Jesus was born, he was a tiny, tiny baby, and everyone came to see him."

"They came to his house?"

"Well, not exactly. You see when he was born he was not at his house. He was in a manger . . . ummm, a barn. With a bunch of animals."

"They had a party wif old mcdonald?"

"Well, no, not Old Mcdonald. It was a barn not a farm. And his mama made him a bed in the hay when he was born. And everyone came to see him. Angels, and shepherds and wisemen."

"His mommy in da barn?"

"Yes, Mary was his mommy and she loved him very much. And she named him Jesus."

"He had a birtday and they sing and they eat cake and they bow out the tandles?"

Nitro pipes in here and says, "Cake?"

I didn't even get to the part about the shepherds in the field and the singing angels and King Herod and Joseph and the donkey and the whole "no room at the inn" thing or the virgin birth! (Well, I'll probably skip the whole "virgin birth" part for a few more years at least.)

All that to say, I think I take for granted just how miraculous Christmas really is. Simply miraculous. A beautiful story. One that I will have to learn how to tell to a couple of three year olds!

Day 105: 40 Weeks Ago, This seemed Like a Good Idea

2011-11-14T07:45:00.001-08:00

Last year for Christmas, my son, Jacob gave a me a present. It was a 40 week training program for a marathon, called the Marathon Makeover. Every Saturday, for 40 weeks, I awakened at the crack of dawn to go out running with a group of people, who prior to the race were complete strangers to me.

The commitment to train for a marathon was also a commitment for Mike, because it meant for 40 weeks he would be on Daddy Duty every single Saturday morning!

And it was a commitment for Jacob because he agreed to "run" the marathon with me. Which for him would be more torturous than for me, because he runs a mile in half the time that I run one, which meant his marathon would take twice as long as it would normally take him.

But yesterday was the day. And we finished. And we didn't die.

I'd love to say it was awesome, but truthfully it was grueling! There were so many factors we were just simply not prepared for. First of all, I trained in The Woodlands where it is virtually flat. I also trained early in the morning, often before the sun came up. So the sun was not a real factor on most days of my training.

But the marathon was entirely different. At mile 7, I realized I had a wayward toenail that was poking a hole into the toe that was next to it. I had to take off my shoe, cut my toenail, wrap a band aid around it and keep going! At mile 11.5, I was worried that I should have taken the turn-off to the half marathon. By mile 13, I realized the record high temps and humidity had taken its toll and I was very dehydrated.

Twice, Jacob ran ahead of me to the next watering station and brought me back water! I was so grateful for him!

By mile 16, I was seriously doubting that I would make the full marathon. Everything hurt. I was walking way more than I was running, felt like crying, quitting, curling up into the fetal position and sucking my thumb. I know Jacob was bored out of his mind, and ready to slap me and say, "Snap out of it!"

Literally for over 9 miles there was not one ounce of shade. None. And a few of the watering stations had run out of water or sports drink. And the hills. Oh my gosh. The Hills.

But something happened around mile 19. I got a second wind. I was running a lot more, genuinely feeling better, and enjoying the experience.

Then I hit the wall at mile 23. I've heard many times about "the wall." It is as real as it has been described to me. By mile 24, I was pretty much walking the entire time. Jacob was in high "encouragement mode" at this point. Encouraging me to just keep walking. To just keep putting one foot in front of the other. He even ran into a convenience store and bought water, Gatorade, and a banana so we could make it!

When we hit mile 26, I could feel myself wanting to cry. I was going to finish! I was going to do it!
The last 2 tenths of a mile were straight uphill. REALLY? How mean is that? But we rounded the corner, and we ran it in!

We crossed the finish line.

All that to say, I am a marathoner (and so is Jacob!) :) 40 weeks ago this seemed like a good idea. What was I thinking? And Jacob, this year, can I just have a blender?

Day 104: Married to Jesus

2011-11-11T10:25:00.001-08:00

Explaining the concept of marriage to a three year old is not easy.

For many days, Shortstack has been asking questions about getting married. She said she wanted to marry Zack, but when I explained that Christina was marrying Zack, she was none too happy.

So then she said she was going to marry Daddy. When I explained that Daddy was already married to Mommy she held up her pointer finger and shook it back and forth at me and said, "no, no, no." But Daddy corroborated my story, so she begrudgingly accepted her fate.

Finally, I encouraged her by telling her that someday she was going to get married. And she was going to marry an incredible man that loved Jesus more than anything else. And that he was going to love her as much as he loved Jesus, and that he was going to treat her like a princess.

So yesterday, suddenly and without warning, she announced that she was going to get married.

"I'm gettin mah-weed," she said, matter-of-factly.

"You are?" I exclaimed with surprise. "Who are you marrying?"

She said, "I'na mahwee Jesus. I be a princess."

All that to say, I guess there's some deep theology packed into that statement. Love it.

Day 103: I'n a Power Girl

2011-11-09T06:35:00.000-08:00

We've been talking a lot about weddings in our house lately, due to the fact that the "wedding season" is now in high gear in our household (and probably Christina's household as well!) The shower gifts have taken over our spare bedroom. There is much talk of dresses and alterations and hostess gifts and receptions and guest lists.

So it is no small wonder that Shortstack has clued in to the fact that "something" is going on.

Last week, I went to Bed Bath and Beyond to purchase a gift for the engaged couple, and I took both girls with me. Shortstack's favorite question is always, "What happened, Mama?" So as we waited our turn to talk to the registry lady, she kept asking over and over and over, "What happened, Mama?" Which really translates to "Why are we here?"

In my most patient mother of toddlers voice I tried to explain that Zack and Christina are getting married and that we were there to buy them a present.

"They have a party?" she asked. "Well, yes, sort of," I said.

So then I explained what a wedding was, and how she was going to go and that she would even get to be a flower girl and throw flowers and everything.

I could tell she didn't quite get it when she started telling all the passersby that she was getting married. Oh well. It was cute. :)

A few days ago we started practicing being flower girls. It was a sight to behold. Nitro didn't really get it at all. I have a feeling she's going to be a hoot at the wedding. On her first try she dropped a few flowers on the floor, then took a few steps forward. Then at my command to "drop a few more flowers" she turned around, went back to her original pile of flowers and dropped some more flowers into that pile. . . . hmmmm.

Then on her second try, she walked backwards.

Then last night, she did a good job walking slowly and dropping flowers as she went. But when she got to the very end of the pretend aisle, she looked down into her bucket, realized she still had rose petals, and she threw them all up in the air (confetti style) and shouted "Woohoo!" Like I said, Nitro's going to be a hoot!

But Shortstack has got it down. She is all about the walking and dropping flowers and being a princess. The only thing we need to work on is her desire to eat the flowers. She may or may not have tasted a couple during practice.

This morning, when I was dressing her she said, "Mama, I'n a power girl." (Translated, "I'm a flower girl.") No, "Good morning." No sleepy yawns. Just a pronouncement. "I'm a power girl."

All that to say, toddlerville is hard work, but you laugh a LOT! Wouldn't it be awesome if laughter burned calories?

Day 102: Don't Mess with Texas? Don't Mess with Mommies!

2011-11-07T04:46:00.000-08:00

Mike and I were having a conversation the other day in the car about being adoptive parents and how we wondered if there was a moment in the life of an adoptive parent when you know beyond the shadow of a doubt that your adopted kids are REALLY yours. What moment cements that into your heart?

I believe I had that moment yesterday.

I always say that I have pretty thick skin unless you say something bad about my kids. And that is incredibly, incredibly true. It's not that I am unaware of my children's shortcomings. I know they aren't perfect. I'm okay with being told they weren't nice to their peers today, or they aren't making good grades, or anything else along those lines. There's just a line, and when it's crossed, it's not pretty.

Today, something happened at church related to the girls. (I'm not going to go into the details, because that ISN'T the point of this blog today) Someone said a few things to me, about them, that absolutely crushed me. Though their words were well-intentioned, they shot like arrows deep into the softest places in my heart. The place where a mother's love is.

To say I cried a little or got my feelings hurt for them would be a grand understatement. I burst into tears. I cried buckets in the hallway of church. I cried so hard I had to leave church, which happens to be my job, by the way. I cried all the way home. I'm talking UGLY crying here people. Swollen face, red eyes, snot flowing, ugly crying. And I cried off and on all day long. Because my mother's heart hurt for my babies. Every time I thought about it again, I cried.

And I realized last night, that yesterday was my moment. The moment that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that those girls are mine (well, ours). It's cemented into my heart.

All that to say, people might think I'm a pretty tough cookie. And though I might crumble at first, I'm even tougher when it comes to my kids, any of the four of them. Don't mess with Texas? Don't mess with Mommies!

Day 101: I Say Stupid Things

2011-11-06T19:07:00.000-08:00

I don't know if you do this or not, but I say really stupid things when I am nervous. I suppose most people say stupid things when they are nervous, but yesterday, I could have won an award for my stupidness.

I attended Christina's hometown wedding shower. I was nervous about meeting all these people who have known her since birth. I mean REALLY nervous. Like, I bought a dress kinda nervous. I don't do dresses. But I bought one for this occasion. And I even had it altered! I mean, I REALLY wanted to make a good first impression.

I say stupid things when I'm nervous. And I get nervous when I want to make a good impression.

Stupid #1
I am greeted at the door of a rather LARGE country home. A home out in the middle of nowhere. The lady who greets me says, "Did you have much trouble finding the place?" "Well, I drove past it at first," I said. (I should have stopped there.) "But I drove so far that pretty soon all I saw was hicks and cows, so I turned around." (Awesome. I just said, 'hicks and cows' . . . what was I thinking?)

Stupid #2
One of the sweet hostesses and lifelong friend of Christina's mom says to me, "Oh, you're Zack's mom? Is this just an answer to your prayers?" (I'm not sure what she's talking about so after a moment of really awkward silence I realize she's talking about Christina?) "Oh, you mean Christina? She's okay." (In my head that was really funny, but the look on the lady's face said otherwise.)

Stupid #3
Christina introduces me to her precious Grandmother and tells me that it is her birthday. So I bend down and greet her in my warmest and most welcoming voice and I say, "Well, happy birthday. I'd sing Happy Birthday to you but it would probably make you drop dead." (Seriously? I actually said that. Those words actually came out of my mouth.)

There were many more. But this is enough to give you an idea of how painfully awkward I can be when I am nervous.

All that to say, I should have just kept stuffing cake balls in my mouth. At least that way I wouldn't have had room for my FOOT!

Day 100: People Fear Me

2011-11-05T05:04:00.000-07:00

I do not make good first impressions, unless it's a job interview or speaking in public, and then for some reason, people seem to like me.

But as a general rule, in small settings, like say parties or oh, I don't know, WEDDING SHOWERS, I don't seem to make a good first impression. People always say the exact same thing to me. "I was so intimidated when I first met you . . . and then I got to know you."

I have worked on this trait, trust me. I've tried to smile more, speak less precisely, keep my inane amount of superfluous knowledge to myself, avoid using words like superfluous, slouch; you name it, I've tried it.

But nothing seems to work. People always tell me later that they were nervous and intimidated when they first met me. So I wonder about the people who don't get a chance to know me better. The ones who walk away with that "she's so intimidating" opinion of me and never see me again. Those people will always think I'm intimidating.

Great.

Because today, at a wedding shower, I am going to meet a whole SLEW of people who don't know me at all. And the likelihood that they will think I am intimidating (which often comes across as "stuck-up" by the way) is high. And I am a representation of the man that the bride is going to marry. I am the (dun,dun,dun) Mother of the Groom. Have I mentioned I'm not good in small settings?

So let's recount.
A. I'm the mother of the groom. No one knows me, pretty much, except the bride, and she's going to be busy.
B. I come across as intimidating on first impressions.
C. People will measure up Zack based on my interaction with them and determine just what kind of family Zack was raised by and what kind of family Christina is marrying into.

Whew. I need a paper bag. To breathe in. Maybe I'll stick it in my purse, just in case.

All that to say, the wedding is officially "on." And I am the Mother of the Groom. Smile. Smile. Smile. Smile. People fear me. Smile. Smile. Smile.

Day 99: The Many Faces of Mike

2011-11-04T07:28:00.000-07:00

When you know someone for over 30 years, you are bound to see the multi-faceted dimensions of them. You are bound to have seen them at their very best and their very worst; their strongest and their weakest; their happiest and their saddest. And that is true of my husband, Mike.

Mike is one of the most tender-hearted men I have ever met. He will cry at the drop of a hat, seriously. Like I have seen him weep at McDonald's commercials. And when he cries, he is so cute because he tries to smile really big, so as to distract you from the fact that he is crying, but no one is fooled, Mike Jones, no one is fooled.

And then there's Crazy Mike. Mike was actually given the name "Crazy Mike" by a friend of Jacob's. A random mean dog kept coming in our yard, and one day, when a lot of Jacob's friends were over, Mike saw the dog and said, "If that dog comes in my yard again, I'll snap his neck." Keep in mind, this was a really REALLY big dog. Jacob's friends all laughed, and from that day forward they called him Crazy Mike.

And then there is Sunday School Teacher Mike, AKA "Mr. Jones" to his class. He had a class one year that was especially dear to him because there were a couple of boys in the class whose dads were traveling a lot, and he felt responsible to reach out to them. He apparently was special to them too, because years later their moms told us how much those days had meant to them all.

Then there is "COP Mike." This is the Mike that will totally bust teenagers in the parking lot of gas stations who are trying to convince someone to buy them alcohol or tobacco or something else they shouldn't have. This Mike scares me because I'm worried he's going to get shot some day. But he always says to me, "If all adults cared about what people's kids were into, then our kids would be a lot safer. That's how it was in my day."

There are so many Mikes to write about that I cannot possibly write about them all. So I will say this, my husband would give you the shirt off his back without even thinking about it. ( He might launch into a lecture about why should not be walking around without a shirt on, but if you needed a shirt, he'd give you his. ) He is smart, and generous, and deeply in love with those who are unloved. He is strong and wise and perhaps a bit impatient. He is faithful and always believes that God will come through in the end. He is self-sacrificing and loves his family more than I think he has words to say.

All that to say, Happy Birthday Mike Jones, man of my dreams.

Day 98: All That to Say, And More

2011-10-31T06:50:00.000-07:00

I am painfully aware that I have not blogged in quite some time. It isn't because I have nothing to say. It's because I have so much to say, and I really can't say any of it. And when I don't have the freedom to write about what is stuffed inside my head, it tends to get a bit stuffy in there!

I would love to tell you how things are going in adoption land, but that is all top secret information. Well, it's not really top secret, but it's fairly confidential, so I cannot share anything with you at all, except to tell you that our system is really jacked up! Or maybe it's not and my idea of how things SHOULD work would be terrible. But I would still love to take a shot at it! I used to have a friend that would say to me, "If only they'd let you rule the world, Carol." HA! So true.

But, still, there are some great things happening here at Chez Jones. It's only a few short months until Zack and Christina's wedding. (Christina could probably tell you how many days.) I have officially picked out a MOG dress (figure it out) and had it altered. When I tried it on for the seamstress to alter it, she said, "I hope this won't sound weird, but this dress makes your butt look fabulous." A little awkward, not gonna lie. But still, kinda awesome.

Jacob is rowing Crew (I don't technically know how to say what he is doing, so I hope that is accurate!) He competed in his first regatta this past weekend. And in true Jones fashion, he won. Oh yeah. In a post from a year ago, I wrote about how we Joneses like to play games and how we pretty much dominate when we play. Even when it's just a cake walk at a preschool! So, of course, no one was surprised that Jacob's team won. Except maybe Jacob's coach, and his team, and Jacob, and the other teams! But seriously, so stinking cool! And since Mike and I couldn't go, Zack drove for three hours to be our "family support" for Jacob.

Mike and I recently went to Albany, Texas, to visit our good friends Allen and Doris Tarbutton. Doris has been my prayer mentor since Zack was in 8th grade, so about 13 years now. On our first day there, Allen came out with a cowboy hat on and said, "Would you like a hat?" I laughed a little bit at that and then I noticed that he had also strapped on a sidearm. Wait, What? I get a hat and he gets a GUN?!!!! Turns out, life on a Dude Ranch can be a little dangerous if you're not armed! But nonetheless, it was a great time away.

And the girls? They are growing like little sweet dandelion weeds! And they experienced their first night of "trunk or treating" ever. They might still be on a bit of a sugar high. Someone who shall remain unnamed, Zack Jones, gave them cotton candy, and a sucker, and some smarties. But hey, isn't that what big brothers are for?

All that to say, there is a lot to say, and so much more. But this is enough for one post. Probably too much, truth be told.

Day 97: Happy Birthday Zack

2011-10-19T13:53:00.000-07:00

Has it really been 27 years since I gave birth to you? My how the time has flown. I sit here typing thinking, "How is it possible that you have lived that many years already?" I barely feel 27 myself!

I'm so grateful you are my son. You have blessed me in more ways than I know how to write.

Though the past few birthday blogs will show that I do have much to say about you!
As Far As Big Brothers
Twenty Five
Don't Tell Stupid Stories About Me

I feel like you are on the edge of the rest of your life. That probably sounds silly, because I guess technically every day is the edge of the rest of our life.

But here you are. Your last birthday as a single man. And I cannot help but feel like it is the last birthday I will have with you where you are just mine.   After this year, you won't be just "my son" you'll be someone's husband. It reminds me of the verse in the Bible that says, " . . . a man shall leave his father and his mother and be forever connected to his wife."

And THAT makes this birthday very, very special. It's technically the last birthday of your childhood. 27 years ago, they placed your warm little face next to mine, and I remember that day like it was yesterday. It is a memory forever branded into my brain. I would relive that day a million times over.

But it's the days to come that I am the most excited to watch unfold.

All that to say, Happy Birthday my sweet little boy.

Day 96: Who Is He? - Infinite

2011-10-04T06:42:00.000-07:00

This is my second post in a series called "Who is He?" As part of learning to hear the voice of God, I have been asking, "God, will you teach me something about you today." And though I don't hear an answer everytime I ask, I have written down what I believe He has been teaching me.

"I am infinite. And because I know in your humaness, you will try to define that, let me hlep you. I have no beginning or end, either in time or dimension.

I cannot be measured or contained.

I cannot be bound or confined.

There is no end to the depth of me.

And the same can be said of my grace for you, my patience for you, my forgiveness for you and most importantly of my love for you.

They are all infinite.

I am infinite."

All that to say, I am so glad that He is.

Day 95: Again with the Toes

2011-10-02T05:04:00.000-07:00

I was hesitant to post this because I just had a disastrous toe story a few weeks ago, and it makes me sound pampered . . . or cursed.

But I'll take the risk because my friend, Vicki, said, "You have to post that story." And my soon to be daughter-in-law, Christina, said, "You have the worst luck with pedicures." And my son, Zack, said "Where did you go to get your pedicure? WALMART? You don't have bad luck with pedicures. That's like saying you have bad luck with haircuts but you get your haircuts at Fantastic Sams." (Just for the record though, I have had some very good haircuts at Fantastic Sams . . .and some very good pedicures at Walmart) :)

So, I thought I would tell you the story.

I went to Walmart to get a pedicure. I've gone there many times and always loved it and my pedicures have lasted a really long time, so I went back. I went on my lunch hour because it is never crowded mid-week and that means they take their time, which is always awesome.

Things were going really well during the pedicure. My toes looked beautiful. Then the lady asked me if I would like a manicure. They were having a special for only $5! (She also asked me if I wanted my eyebrows waxed . . . I tried not to read anything into that.) Looking down at my fingernails, I realized a manicure was probably not a bad idea, so I said yes.

I should have been alarmed right away when the girl doing my manicure was suddenly surrounded by 3 people telling her (I'm assuming here b/c I don't actually speak the language they were speaking) HOW to perform the manicure. During the process, she stepped on my freshly polished toenails! Arghhh!

The lady who had originally done my pedicure, and who now was instructing the manicurist, looked down at my messed up nails and fussed at the girl doing my fingernails. Then she walked over and got a little jar of fingernail polish remover and a paintbrush and brushed it on my messed up nail. Fingernail polish remover ran everywhere, including onto my sandal that was on my foot. Instantly, my foot stuck to my shoe b/c the polish remover was melting the waxy coating that was on my leather sandals! I know this is hard to picture from the description, but picture 4 Nail Salon employees all bending over me, with horror on their faces, and me sitting in a rolling black office chair, with messed up toenails, and a sandal melting to my foot!

At that point, I had to move back to the pedicure chairs so they could PEEL my sandal off my foot and try to scrub (for 10 minutes!) the brown shoe dye off the bottom of my foot. OUCH!

After my toes were fixed (she messed up another one in the process of trying to fix the first one and peeling off my shoe) I went up to the man running the cash register. He told me that would be $42! "FORTY TWO DOLLARS," I said. "For what? The mani-pedi special was $28!" He said,"$28 for the mani-pedi and 14 for fixing two nails!" For real, that's what he said.

I nicely explained that I was not going to pay them anything, but especially not 14 dollars for fixing two nails that THEY messed up. AND they ruined my brand new leather sandal! He told me he would deduct the cost of my sandals ($12) and that I would owe him $30 (which is still more than the actual cost of the mani-pedi!)

Again, I assured him I was not going to pay for the kind of service I had received, ruined sandals, glued foot that was rubbed raw, blah, blah, blah.

In the end, I prevailed and was able to walk away without paying. =

All that to say, seriously . . . again with the toes . . .

Day 94: Who is He ~ Creator

2011-09-28T16:50:00.000-07:00

For the last month, I have been asking God each morning to teach me something new about himself. I thought I would share His answers with you.

I am more than Creator, at least in the way you understand creation and creativity. I am more than the Inventor of all good things.

Can you grasp the infinite and detailed explosions of life that came about simply because I spoke?

Can you grasp the glorious display of light and darkness and the depth of color that came from that same spoken voice?

You cannot.

But oh how I love it that you try. Trying to understand me shows me that you care deeply for me. So keep trying my sweet girl. Keep trying.

All that to say, He is indeed so much more than I understand or am able to imagine.

Day 93: 30 Years

2011-09-26T07:14:00.000-07:00

We met in the Student Union of Louisiana State University. Mike was a grad student, and I was a young freshman. I don't know how it is in colleges today, but in those days, you pretty much lived in the Student Union unless you were in class or in the library studying (or out drinking somewhere . . . LSU, ever the party school!)

My first impression of Mike was not all that great. On many occasions we played SPADES together and he was the worst cheater in the world! (Well, technically he was a great cheater b/c I never actually caught him cheating, I just knew that he had!) He was cocky and arrogant and a tremendous know-it-all, and he had the most annoying way that he snapped his fingers when he won a hand.

But he was also brilliant. And I was failing college algebra. So we struck up a bargain. I agreed to go on ONE DATE with him if he would help me with my algebra. So he did. And I made an A.

The night of our first date happened on the same night that I was in a bowling tournament being held in the Student Union (I know you're laughing right now, it's okay. Enjoy the picture that is in your head.)

When my friends found out that I was going on a date with Mike Jones, one of them handed me a quarter and said, "If he tries anything, you call me immediately and I'll come get you." (yes, pay phones were a quarter and cell phones didn't exist yet! It was over 30 years ago!) Mike was a notorious womanizer. Hard to picture, but it's true. His reputation preceded him.

But our first date was, well, it was magical. He tells me all the time that he knew on that night that I was "the one." It took me until the third date (which was 2 days later). And 18 months later we were married.

What an incredible ride these 30 years have been. We have experienced so much joy together; the birth of our sons, and the unexpected joy of our daughters. And we've experienced incredible loss; the loss of a parent, the loss of a child, and the loss of incredible friends.

And as in any ride, we have had many ups and many downs. There have been times that I have awakened and wondered why in the world I ever married that man, and times when I have awakened and wondered how I ever got so lucky.

All that to say, Happy Anniversary Mike Jones. Here's to 30 more! (That totally has to happen! We have 3 year olds!)

Day 92: IN spire

2011-09-22T06:26:00.000-07:00

If I have learned anything in life it is this; you will never shame anyone into doing anything of value.

Don't hear me say that you can't shame people into doing things. I am living proof that you can! In fact, anyone who has ever had a mother has been shamed into doing something (my kids included . . . but they may not comment on this blog!)

While shame might produce short term desired results, it's not a great motivator for change. It's not a great mobilizer of movements. It produces guilt, a guilt that says you must do something in order to be valuable or have worth.

But I believe that the very gospel I live by says otherwise. It's not based on shame. It's based on love. And the same God who loves me, inspires me to serve Him and serve others. He doesn't guilt or shame me into it.

I've been thinking a lot lately about inspiring people, especially as it relates to serving others. And because I'm a word nerd, I looked up the word inspire and found this:

Inspire - <latin> inspīrāre to breathe upon or into

It's most literal meaning is to breathe life into something or someone. It doesn't mean to suck the life out of them. That word would be expire, which also means to die. We don't want to "expire" people; we want to "inspire" them.

Inspiring someone to do something means giving that something meaning, giving it life. Think about your words the next time you want someone to do something. Will those words give life or will they produce an opposite effect? Will they be filled with life or filled with shame?

All that to say, speak life. (and serve others, because your life will never be the same when you make a difference in someone else's life!)

Day 91: Driving for Dummies

2011-09-20T09:16:00.000-07:00

I often think that if I just had a road map to life, I would be a better driver (it's an analogy, go with it.)

No more wandering aimlessly, no more taking wrong turns, no more dead ends, no missed exits (I could keep going with this, but I won't. You get the point.)

But that's just the thing. I don't really think I'm supposed to be the driver because there is already this perfect trip planned for me. The trip of a lifetime. Complete with adventure and drama and exhilaration. It's a great trip. Not a trip without peril or pitfalls or dangerous curves. But an incredible trip nonetheless.

And though I know all of this, I cannot help but want to drive. Repeatedly I reach over, grab the wheel, and steer wildly out of control.

I've seen the results of this.

They aren't pretty.

Yet still . . . I want to drive. I need to drive. I have an insatiable urge to take over and drive like a criminal in a getaway car. Because I think that driving myself equals freedom. I mean, I have the freedom to drive if I want, so why shouldn't I drive? Why shouldn't I be at the wheel?

All that to say, I've never really been good with maps anyway. You'd think I'd be content to ride and leave the driving to the Professional. You'd think . . . you'd think.

Day 90: Responsibility

2011-09-19T05:05:00.000-07:00

I don't blog about my work very often, usually because all of my blogging space is consumed by stories of my children and family or inane happenings as I go through life. And, I think in part because blogging is like the "other" part of me, the part that doesn't get much opportunity to be set free at work.

I'm not saying I'm not the "real me" at work. Because I am. Complete with my many flaws, just ask my co-workers, they'll verify that for you. Just saying I don't have much of a venue for annecdotal writing there.

I was up all night thinking (not worrying) just thinking about work. I have the incredible responsibility of trying to help people find real, true, authentic community through small groups. You'd think this comes naturally, and I suppose in a way, it does, but there is also a part of it that is awkward and difficult. (Enter my team and me).

One of the ways we do try to help people find community is through an event called "Connection Point." We didn't invent Connection Point. It's more of a morph of several other churches' On-Ramp into small groups. But the basic premise is people sign up to be in a small group with 8-10 other people. We assign them to groups based on either their stage of life or geographic location, or both whenever possible. Then we have a big event where they all get to meet each other and get to know each other. Sort of like one giant blind date.

This past weekend we had a Connection Point, and as I looked out at the sea of people we had placed into groups, I couldn't help but wonder if they were in the right group. I feel such responsibility for them.

What if their group is terrible and this is the first time they have ever tried being in a group, so they don't have some great memory of that "one group" that will help them ride out this bad one, so they give up on groups and never try again? (I thought the length of that sentence would give you an idea of how this feels in my head! It helps if you read it really fast! Go back and try it again.)

I talked to a lot of people at church yesterday who told me they loved their groups. So you'd think that would be enough for me. But I can't help but think (not worry, think) about all the groups I didn't hear from. Were they okay? Did they hit it off?

I think I want people to love their groups because I know what an incredible gift it is to have a group of people that you can go through life with. People who share your victories and burdens as though they were their own. People who challenge you to be a better person. People who love you with all your flaws and idiosyncrasies. A group like that is an incredible gift, and I want that for everyone.

All that to say, I really do want world peace. :) And great groups for everyone!

Day 89: I Can See

2011-09-12T19:25:00.000-07:00

I am fed up with my vision . . . meaning my ability to see things or the lack thereof. Simply put, I cannot see.

So I am forced to have a pair of "readers" with me at all times. Leaving home without them has been disastrous at times and embarrassing to say the least.

I have had to ask waiters to read menus to me.

I have squinted so hard to try to see something that I smeared my mascara (now I know why old ladies ALWAYS have smeared mascara!)

I have called strangers because I couldn't see the numbers on the phone I was dialing, and I have sent hundreds of misspelled text messages, often saying something I didn't intend to say because I couldn't see that "autocorrect" had changed my word.

I HATE my vision.

So I finally broke down and went to the eye doctor. And I left with contacts in my eyes and the ability to see! I was so excited about the idea that I could see more clearly.

When I got home, I started to cook dinner and I realized that my stove was dirty! Bummer.

Then I went into my bathroom to put away a hairbrush, and I realized my bathroom sink was dirty. What in the world? I wanted to see more clearly, not more dirt!

And then I made the mistake of looking up from the counter into the mirror . . . when did ALL THOSE WRINKLES get on my face?

My mom told me later that the reason that God fades our eyesight when we get older is so that we don't realize just how old we look. Pretty sure that's not true. But, as I have said many times, everything is a trade-off in life. Good vision . . . see the dirt and the wrinkles. Bad vision . . . no dirt, no wrinkles, but you pretty much can't see anything else either.

All that to say, I can see clearly now . . .

Day 88: In Good Company

2011-09-12T04:08:00.000-07:00

This past weekend some good friends came to visit us from Georgia. These are people we love dearly and count among our closest friends in our lives. Our time with them is rich; filled with laughter and good food, and catching up and lots more laughter.

There is something special about really good friendships, especially ones that stand the test of time and distance.

These are the friendships that add value to your life. They are the ones made of people that you might not even see or hear from for a long time, but let a tragedy or something incredible happen in your life and they are the people you call.

These friendships might not always be easy. In fact, if they are really good friends, you will have had some conflict along the way. Maybe even major conflict. But your ability to resolve the conflict and move forward most likely makes the friendship that much sweeter.

We were created to live in community by a communal God. I believe this at all times, but I feel it most deeply when I have been in the company of friends.

All that to say, we love you Ray and Cathy.

Day 87: Peace

2011-09-07T16:27:00.000-07:00

Some trust in chariots and some trust in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord, our God. Psalm 20:7

I waited outside the doors of family court this morning. I had been briefed on what to expect as it related to our hearing today. Pretty simple stuff, really, in the grand scheme of things. We would ask the court for temporary orders that would give us custody of the girls until a permanent determination for their placement can be made. The decision for permanent placement could be over by Thanksgiving, or it could take as long as 18 months.

Short version of the story. We were awarded custody.

The day was not without drama, none of which I can really share with you, and none of which really matters anyway, and none of which is the point of this post.

As I sat in the hallway outside the many family courts (there were like 8 courtrooms, not just one), I was struck with this thought. "People's lives are being devastated all day long in this hallway." There was an overwhelming sense of despair and hoplessness there. You could almost touch it. You could most assuredly see it. It was etched deep into the lines of the faces on display.

There was a young woman crying, her mother comforting her. There were two very jaded CPS workers discussing the merits of their case. There was a woman and her husband of 18 years who were divorcing and fighting over their house and children. At one point I leaned over and introduced myself to her and asked her if I could pray for her in some way. She leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes, letting one tear slowly fall down her cheek and whispered, "peace. just pray for peace."

And there was no privacy for anyone. Attorneys and clients and plaintiffs and defendants all argued and discussed their cases right out there in the open. I was overcome by how little diginity anyone was afforded.

I leaned my head back against the wall, closed my eyes, and prayed for peace. Peace for Arnita who was losing her children; for Tawnya who was losing her husband and her family, for court workers and cps workers and judges who have become so jaded by all they have seen over the years.

And I said, "Lord, I realize that each day I fight not to place my trust in man and all our many systems. I can only trust you. You are going to be my only sense of peace; my only sense of hope in all of this. Make me strong enough not to be tempted to trust anything or anyone else."

All that to say, today was a win for us. And I am celebrating that. But for some reason, I feel like mourning, and I feel a tremendous weight for those I encountered today. God give them peace.

Day 86: Toe Woes

2011-09-04T05:24:00.000-07:00

After my long run yesterday, I decided to get a pedicure. Yes, I am spoiled that way, but don't judge me. It's one of the few things I do for myself, and I typically schedule it after a really long run because I get my toenails done AND a leg and foot massage.

So yesterday, I got one. I was sipping my ice cold beverage (provided by them) totally relaxing when my person started talking to me. Now everyone who is anyone who ever gets a pedicure knows you don't want to be talked to. You want to sit with your eyes closed and soak in the silence, OR you want to read the latest copy of PEOPLE magazine. You most assuredly DO NOT want to converse.

So she introduced herself (okay, I guess that's not talking, technically) but then that required me to say my name, and that was bound to open up all kinds of doors. But, being socially savvy as I am, I said my name in return, which, as expected, opened the conversation door.

She proceded to tell me about how she and her husband were having this big huge fight because she asked him to go see a movie and he told her they just saw it two weeks ago and she totally knows he's cheating on her because she would remember if she had seen a movie and what kind of a fool does he take her for. (yes, I know that's a run on sentence. I was making a point)

Then, back to silence. And more foot rubbing. Bliss.

Then her phone rings, and it is set to train whistle. Awesomeness.

She starts telling the person on the other end of the phone the same story she told me and then she says, "Oh no. Really?" And then she laughs really REALLY loud and says, "Okay, thank you daddy. Don't tell him though."

When she gets off the phone, she apologizes for taking a call in the middle of my pedicure and then tells me that she was laughing because her dad told her that he had babysat a couple of weeks ago for her while she and her husband went to see a movie. APPARENTLY she was very, very drunk and had completely blocked seeing the movie with her husband.

Story over. More foot rubbing, onto leg massage.

The lights go out (I wish I was making this up).

As we wait for the lights to come back on (I'm thinking I'll just have a really long massage) she calls her husband to apologize.

Finally, she polished my toenails, overcharged me by $5 (I didn't complain, I just wanted to be done) and I left.

When I got outside, I realized that having your toenails polished in the dark is not a good thing.

All that to say, Oy.

Day 85: Ours

2011-09-02T07:16:00.000-07:00

I find myself sitting and watching the girls, of late. Studying them with an intensity that would probably make them uncomfortable if they noticed me doing it.

When I watch them play and they mimick something I do or say, I think to myself, they really are mine.

When they climb up on their stepstool in my bathroom and pretend to put on make up or do their hair, and they go through the same motions that I do, I think to myself, they really are mine.

When they behave in some undesirable way, I usually think, they get that from Mike. :)

But today I was struck by this thought. They really are ours. In every way that matters, they are ours.

They are woven deep into the fabric of our family. They are our daughters. They are Zack and Jacob's sisters. They speak the language of us. They are ours.

I think, however, that I have been afraid to say that outloud, for fear that someone would come and rip them from our home, from our family, from us. And the fear of that as been pretty overwhelming at times.

But we prayed for freedom the other night, and I realize today that I need to be freed from that fear.

So I release it.

Because my living in fear won't change it. In fact, living in fear won't change anything.

But by releasing my fear, I will live without the burden that comes from carrying it. And I say yes to that.

All that to say, they are ours, and I am not afraid to say it.

Day 84: Still

2011-08-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

I was thinking today about how often I ask God to rescue me or someone I love from something.

I got this picture in my mind of someone needing to be rescued from the ocean, in the middle of a terrible storm, crashing waves, big winds, etc.

As their rescuer approached, they did what any person in this situation would do. They started moving toward the rescuer, and then tried to help the rescuer rescue them. And, as we have all seen in the movies, this rarely works out well for either the person needing to be rescued or the rescuer.

Logically, we know we should just be still and let the rescuer do their thing, but instinct and the need to survive takes over and we end up "helping."

We cry out to God to be rescued. He says, "Be Still."

We cry out to God for help. He says, "Be Still."

We cry out to God for peace. He says, "Be Still."

All that to say, imagine if just for a moment, we were actually still. I am not good at still. But you know what God says to me when I say, "I'm not good at still, Lord. Tell me what I can do to help." He says, "Be Still."

Day 83: Lest You Think It's All Funny Stories and Sweet Moments

2011-08-29T04:11:00.000-07:00

I decided to buy groceries with the girls yesterday. I let them take a good long nap (just to be sure they were going to be in a good mood). Normally they enjoy the grocery store. Normally I enjoy them enjoying the grocery store.

Not so much.

First of all, I'm an IDIOT! What was I thinking trying to buy groceries on Sunday afternoon?!!!! I think every person in town was at the store, and they got there 5 minutes before me and bought all the stuff I wanted/needed to buy . . . I digress.

As we entered the store, they had an HEB BUDDY station set up in the produce section and gave the girls the cutest little tiny green apples. These cute little apples entertained them for about 1/2 the store. And then it all turned for the worse.

Shortstack decided it would be fun to rub her half-eaten apple all over the basket, while taking bites in between. She'd rub it on the filthy basket, then take a bite. GROSS!!!!

When I tried to take it away from her, she hit me with it. Multiple times, in fact, before I could grab it from her. When I finally managed to pry it from her (remarkably strong) little toddler hands, she screeched the most blood curdling screech you have ever heard. Needless to say, that garnered a few stares.

Having been their mom for a while now, I am used to such show downs and am equally as use to such stares from people in the store. She screamed and cried and snotted and blew snot bubbles at me for almost 20 minutes. I probably should have just gone home. But at that point I had over a half a cart of groceries and I was GOING TO FINISH SHOPPING!

Finally, I succumbed to her screams and put Barney on the iphone and shopped the rest of the grocery store in peace. (Seriously how did I parent my first set of kids without an iphone?)

Once home, I discovered that Nitro (who just recently learned how to blow her own nose) had been blowing her nose in the back seat, without a tissue!!!! I heard the noise, but thought she was sniffling from her stuffy nose. I was wrong. I will spare you the description of what that looked like. But she'd been doing it for over 5 minutes, so . . .

I finally got all the groceries put away, tried to cook dinner, managed a full blown, full restraint temper tantrum that lasted well over 30 minutes, and then I cried. (After reading this several times, I realized I should probably say the temper tantrum was not mine!)

All that to say, I write this lest you think it's all funny stories and sweet moments. Our babies have special needs. Often needs I cannot meet or understand. I think that's why I have learned to treasure the good moments and focus on those.

Day 82: Jesus Has a Tummy Ache

2011-08-28T13:22:00.000-07:00

Ever since last week when the girls heard the story of Jonah at church, Shortstack has been obsessed with the notion that Jesus has a tummy ache. This notion came because the teacher told her that the whale must have had a bad tummy ache from swallowing up Jonah! I guess she got all the whale, Jonah, Jesus data mixed up and it came out as "Jesus has a tummy ache."

So, despite my best efforts to assure her that Jesus is just fine and does in fact NOT have a tummy ache, she is very worried about him.

Today, on our way home from church, she was singing The Farmer in the Dell when all the sudden she said, "Jesus tummy hurt bad. He not go to church. He not see Martin. He not see Kim. He not dance." (apparently we dance at our church, and well, if you have a tummy ache, you shouldn't dance).

I tried to convince her that Jesus was just fine. I told her that he was perfect and that he never got sick.

She challenged me. She said, "He have a TUMMY ACHE." (She was quite emphatic) I assured her that he was perfect. That he never got in trouble or did anything wrong. I assured he that he never missed church and that he never got sick.

She looked at me. Still unconvinced.

She started singing again. "HA HA" (I said in my most victorious voice . . . in my brain) "I win! She has conceded that I am correct. Jesus is alive and well."

As we were wrapping up our lunch, she looked over at me, smiled the most mischievous smile, and said, "Jesus has a tummy ache."

OMgosh! Are you kidding me? I give up. I suppose that Jesus, son of God and man, could have, at some point in his life here on earth, had a tummy ache.

All that to say, there is no convincing a toddler when she's made up her mind!

Day 81: A Beautiful Harvest

2011-08-27T05:47:00.000-07:00

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time at all, then you know that we are in the process of adopting two three year old girls, whose online identities are Nitro and Shortstack.

To even get to a place where we could say that we are "in the process of adopting" has been a very long row (and yes, row is the right word here, not road, though I suppose you could say road and it would still make sense . . . but I digress). To get to a place where we could say that we are in the process of adopting has been a journey to say the least.

There have been many times when I felt like it was the right time to start the process, but Mike wasn't as sure. And there have been an equal number of times when he felt it was the right time, but I didn't. This is the first time that we BOTH have felt certain of God's hand and timing. So here we are.

And while I am positive it is the right thing to do for the girls, it still makes my heart hurt for their birthmom because I have come to care for her and her very fragile heart. I'm certain all of the events of the next days and weeks and months will break her heart. But there are no other options if the girls' lives are to be rescued from the lifecycle they are certain to repeat if they remain in her care.

So the process begins. On September 7th, we have our first hearing. I don't really know the purpose of this hearing, but I know she will be there. I know it provides some sort of custody to us (hopefully) while we sort out the rest of the pieces of this.

Today we are expecting to meet the girls' attorney (they have one of their own, who knew?) It's for a homestudy (feels like we just had one of those . . . oh wait, we did.) I'm a little nervous about that. I cleaned like a mad woman yesterday. I'm pretty sure she isn't going to be inspecting my baseboards, but I figured a clean and fresh smelling house can't hurt!

Yesterday we had to pay to hire an attorney for the suspected birthfather. We don't even know for sure if he IS the birthfather, but we have to pay someone to represent his interests in his absence. The sad thing is that just a couple of weeks ago he was in prison. But oh, timing is everything, and now he is out and the people who need to find him can't find him, so the process says that we have to hire someone to represent his interests. Crazy. The process, I mean.

After this, I don't know what happens. But I'd love you to commit to pray for our family during all of this. For me and Mike and Zack and Jacob and Nitro and Shortstack.

All that to say, there are things that could happen that would allow this ENTIRE process to be over before Thanksgiving. We are praying for that. Would you pray too? We'd love this long row to turn into a beautiful harvest by fall.

Day 80: Bedtime

2011-08-20T19:16:00.000-07:00

For months now we have struggled to find just the right bedtime routine for the girls. Prior to a couple of months ago, bedtime at our house was pretty much of a breeze. We read two stories, sang two songs, prayed, and laid the girls in their beds. At which point they both went promptly to sleep.

But two months ago that all changed, and the last two months have been a tremendous struggle. Shortstack has a big fit, pretty much every night, complete with throwing everything out of her bed, including pillow, blanket, stuffed animals, and sometimes even her pj's and diaper!

Nitro is sweet about the song and the prayer, but she mostly just seems to want to get into her bed. And then once we put her in the bed, she has this nightly routine of giving us a million reasons why she can't lay down.

For Shortstack, I have learned not to engage in her fit throwing. Instead, I just let her go, and then after she calms down, I go back into her room, pick her up, comfort her, give her all of her things back, and then she goes to sleep.

For Nitro, I mostly just laugh because her bedtime routine is a crack-up!

Tonight, I tried something new. I set both girls down on the bottom step of our staircase, and I talked to them about thanking God. In my grand pride, I was thinking, "Man this is going great! These girls are riveted!" And then I asked them each what they would like to thank God for. (I had modeled all the things I was thankful for first, so they were primed!)

Nitro said, "Thank you God for S." (It was so sweet. I actually teared up.) Then she said, "Thank you for trains, and snacks, and puppy, and airplanes and school buses." (Keep in mind she doesn't talk much and doesn't talk clearly, but these words were pretty clear.) I still thought her prayer was pretty cute. Then she said, "not funder."

I laughed, hard. She really doesn't like thunder.

So then it was Shortstack's turn. I expected big things from her. She's incredibly verbal. And a pretty deep thinker. She said, "Thank you God for Santa." I said, "Santa?" In my head I'm thinking, "Santa? You want to thank God for Santa?!" She persisted. "Yes, Santa. Thank you God for Santa."

I asked her if she wanted to thank God for anything else and she said yes, closed her eyes, put her hands together and said, "Thank you God for snow." SNOW? She's never even seen snow. I said, "You want to thank God for Santa and snow? Why Santa and snow?" She said, "God hides in the snow." (Clearly I have some work to do here!)

We closed by thanking God for our family. As we walked up the steps, Shortstack stopped, sat back down and said, "Thank you for my brothers. For Zack and Jacob and Tina." (She really doesn't understand Tina's role yet.)

All that to say, I love bedtime. With all of its messiness and temper tantrums and excuses not to fall asleep. We'll see if I still love it when they aren't in cribs anymore!

Day 79: Surrender

2011-08-20T05:50:00.000-07:00

I may have mentioned a few times that I am reading a book called, "Jesus Calling." It is a journal by Sarah Young, written to herself as though God is speaking to her.

Throughout her book, I am finding a pattern. "Seek the presence of God, and then dwell in it." Get that right, and everything else falls into place. Notice I did not say, get that right and everything will be easy in your life.

And, as I have been reading my Bible, I am seeing a pattern in the portions of Scripture I am reading. That pattern is, "Wait on the Lord."

And as I have been listening to God during my time alone with Him I am hearing these words over and over and over. "Trust Me, Carol."

Seek His presence and dwell in it, wait on Him, and Trust Him. That's really all I'm supposed to do.

Funny how much longer my list is of what I think I should be doing. In my mind I should be coming up with a plan B (for a lot of things in my life right now). In my mind I should be busy. My body should be busy, my mind should be busy, my heart should be busy, my soul should be busy.

And so I fret, and I worry, and I calculate, and I seek advice from far too many people, and I talk when I should be silent, and I do everything I possibly can to keep myself busy, because THAT'S what I know how to do best.

Oh, but how opposite are the plans of the Lord. Seek His Presence and dwell in it. Wait on Him. Trust Him.

"Many are the plans in a Man's heart, but it is the purpose of the Lord that prevails." Proverbs 19:21 Imagine if I surrendered myself to that one scripture. Imagine if I just lived in that.

All that to say, I wonder why surrender is so difficult when God's plans sound so peaceful and mine sound so . . . well . . . busy?

Day 78: Plans

2011-08-19T18:33:00.000-07:00

Today was "Meet the Teacher" day. It's funny even typing that, as I can promise you that "Meet the Teacher" day is something I NEVER imagined I would experience again.

As the thought of "Meet the Teacher" day passed through my brain, it brought with it all the other things we never thought we'd experience again. Lunch money, and spelling tests, and school dances, and allowances, and curfews, and teenage drivers, and on and on and on the list goes.

The plans I had for this stage of my life most assuredly never included diapers or tantrums or pediatricians or meet the teacher days. Had my plans prevailed though, I would have missed bedtime stories and sweet baby kisses and playing dress up and dancing like a ballerina. I would have missed the chance to watch two sweet baby girls grow into the beautiful godly women they will someday become.

Proverbs 19:21 says, "Many are the plans of a man's heart, but it's the Lord's purpose that prevails."

All that to say, my plans are never as beautiful as His.

Day 77: Happy Birthday

2011-08-16T19:04:00.000-07:00

They are three. Their birthday has come and gone, and they are officially three. If you ask them, they'll hold up three fingers (with a great amount of effort on their part) and they will tell you, "I three." Only it comes out sounding a lot more like "I free." And to that, I say, "Yes, babies, you are."

All that to say, Happy Birthday my babies.

Day 76: GULP

2011-08-14T22:01:00.000-07:00

I have been noticeably absent in blog land for quite some time. In part, because I have had so much to say, but could say very little, and in part because I wasn't sure what I would say, if I could say anything.

Many of you have followed our journey with the girls for quite some time now. From the very early days when we had them in our home, and then relinquished them into the care of another; to the day when they came back to live in our home again.

Throughout this journey you have been an encouragement to us. Your words, so filled with life-giving encouragement have often come on days that seemed the darkest.

On Friday, we officially asked the court system to allow us the opportunity to adopt the girls. (How's that for an artistic segue?)

We have no assurances of how this will turn out,. The cost of this, both financially and emotionally will be high. So we ask you to pray alongside us as we follow God's leading.

All that to say, gulp.

PS - As a confirmation to my heart that we are doing the very best possible thing for our girls, Shortstack spontaneously started calling me "Mama" on Friday. smile.

Day 75: That Carol Jones

2011-08-06T19:33:00.000-07:00

Wow. Has it really been so long since my last post? It's astounding that anyone still reads this blog anymore!

I have not blogged because there is something fairly significant happening in our life, and I am just not at liberty to discuss it. And I know that is incredibly vague, and I hate it when people are vague, so I'm sure you will hate it as well.

But that's why I haven't blogged. Because anything I would have normally blogged about has been eclisped by . . . well, I can't say.

All that to say, I'll work on something clever and creative to say in the next few days. Some great anecdote that will make you laugh out loud and say, "that carol jones!"

Day 74: False Gods

2011-07-26T05:08:00.000-07:00

"I learned that God didn't want false gods or idols. I thought it was terribly selfish of God as a child but I think I get it now. . . We were made perfect and they are imperfect . . . and will never live up to what we want or need them to be." - Kelly Clarkson reflecting on the death of Amy Winehouse

I can honestly say I have never ever thought about why God didn't want us to worship false idols or other gods. I just accepted that He didn't, and I said ok.

But I can also honestly say I have struggled not to make idols out of so many things in my life, and I have struggled not to make gods out of so many people in my life.

What simple truth from her words though. "We are perfect and they are imperfect and will never live up to what we want or need them to be."
So like God to give us a commandment that isn't about Him demanding our attention and affection, but is about His protection for our hearts and our minds. He is all that will ever live up to our wants, our needs, our expectations, our hopes, our dreams. Only Him.

All that to say, I never imagined I'd be quoting Kelly Clarkson, much less appreciating her wisdom, but wow. Well said, Kelly.

Day 73: Tension

2011-07-22T07:04:00.000-07:00

I have been quilting for a few years now, 10 to be exact, and I do use the term "quilting" very loosely. I've never made anything really difficult, and only attempt things that involve me sewing squares or rectangles together, but nonetheless, I have created some beautiful things along the way.

I hated sewing when I was in high school and swore I would never sew again, much less actually ENJOY sewing or find it to be something that calms me. But I do love it.

Mostly I love it.

I absolutely hate it on days when my sewing machine is possessed. And by possessed I mean the bobbin eats thread, the thread constantly breaks (which is ESPECIALLY annoying because I am half-blind now and can't see to thread the stupid needle!), or the fabric won't feed, or blah, blah, blah, you get the picture. Usually when that happens, I just quit sewing for a while. Sometimes for the day, sometimes for weeks or even months.

I was sewing the other day and was having a "machine day" when instead of giving up, I decided to play around with the tension of my machine. I have always been content to set my machine controls right in the middle of the suggested settings area on the machine. I always figured that those blue squares indicating where I should set the controls were there for a reason, so I've just always used them. It never occurred to me that each machine was going to be different and I might have to "play" with what normal looked like for MY machine.

Turns out, the tension on your sewing machine is incredibly important. Too much tension and the thread breaks, too little and the extra slack in the thread causes the stitches to be messy and the thread to break (why does everything end in the thread breaking?!)

In my usual, "over analyze" everything way, I started thinking about how the tension of my sewing machine was a lot like the tension of my life. Too much tension and things break. Too little tension and things just get messy. Try to live in the "what's normal for everyone else" mode too long, and things don't work either.

All that to say, next time things get out of control, instead of giving up, I'm just going to adjust my tension.

Day 72: Recipes (The Contest)

2011-07-21T06:03:00.000-07:00

So far I have received a recipe for Migas from my good friend, Doug Jackson. And, because I said I would cook every recipe that was submitted, I cooked them, though in truth I was pretty skeptical about anyone else in my family eating them. (And, considering Doug, himself, said that he was the only person in HIS house that ate them, rightfully so!)

They were pretty good. Won't be a family favorite though because I'd have to take the cilantro, onions, tomatoes, etc. out of them for anyone else to eat them. Turns out the girls have as many "texture" issues as their brothers. Are all kids like that or do I do something to turn mine into people with texture issues?

Last night we ate a recipe submitted by a. nonymous. So, of course their recipe doesn't count because the rules say that you have to submit your recipe on the blog.

It was Rosemary Garlic Chicken with Fettucine Alfredo and Chocolate Gooey Cake for dessert. Here are the recipes.

Chicken:
4 Frozen Chicken Breasts (boneless, skinless, duh)
2.5 tsps Creole Seasoning (with salt)
1 tsp fresh rosemary (but all I had was dried, so I just reduced this a bit)
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 sliced onion
1 clove garlic

Rub the olive oil on the chicken. mix seasonings together and rub on chicken. Place in baking dish.

Sautee 1 minced or pressed clove of garlic with sliced onions. Pour on top of chicken in baking dish. Bake COVERED at 375 until juices run clear from chicken (about 45 minutes) Uncover for last 10 minutes to get a nice crispness to the chicken.

Fettucine
Cook fettucine to al dente.

Alfredo sauce
2.5 cups cream or half/half
1.5 cups freshly grated parmesan
pinch salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
2 tbsp butter
2 cloves garlic

Sautee pressed garlic cloves in butter. Stir in 1.5 cups of cream, salt and pepper and cook, stirring constantly for 3-4 minutes over medium heat. Add cooked fettucine noodles, remaining milk and cheese. (I added the cheese first to be sure it melted really well and the sauce got really creamy (which it didn't b/c my cheese was frozen when I grated it, note to self!)

Plate and add chicken breasts to top of noodles. (I did not serve them with the onions or the garlic on the chicken . . . texture issues . . .but the flavor was there!)

As for the chocolate Gooey cake, well, emphasis is on the gooey b/c I accidentally added an ENTIRE JAR of chocolate fudge sauce instead of 1/4 cup. Bummer. But I'm going to retry that recipe b/c it sounds delicious, and the part that I got right (the crust) was scrumptious!

All that to say, my husband is probably going to be begging me for hot dogs by the time I have finished trying out new recipes! Don't forget to send your in to this link.

Day 71: Vacation Day 2 - Making Memories

2011-07-20T10:58:00.000-07:00

Day two didn't start out exactly as planned, and I'll spare you all the details of why, but suffice it to say it was "unscripted."

So, we got up early and went to Kerby Lane in Austin for some yummy and world famous pancakes. Really though, they should tell you in advance that your "pancake" is more the size of a frisbee than a pancake! I would have adjusted my order significantly! They cook pancakes in such a way that they are the slightest bit crispy on the outside, but sweet and fluffy and delicious on the inside (I included the link to their pancake mix. GET IT!)

Shortstack saw a homeless lady outside the restaurant and asked a stream of questions about her. Mostly the questions were "what happened lady?" and "what she do." She was very confused. I thought about polishing over the whole situation, but decided that she wasn't too young to understand about such things.

Moving on . . .

After much searching online for something fun and cheap to do with the kids, we settled on a safari that was somewhere near Austin (according to Mike and his mad iphone search skills!)

Not to focus on the negative, but the safari trip was kind of a "three strikes" experience.

Strike One - Turns out the safari "somehwere near Austin" was almost 2 hours away (I seriously hate technology sometimes). Luckily, Nitro slept the whole way, and Shortstack entertained herself with songs and animal sightings and trucks.

Strike Two - the "cheap family entertainment site" must have a different measuring standard than I do for cheap. It was $34.50 for us to drive-thru it in our own vehicle. (The site said a "wild ride" and we assumed that we would be exiting our vehicle and riding on a train or a tram or something else. Boo.)

Strike Three - there were virtually NO animals. Seriously. The girls had a great time throwing food pellets out of the back window to the invisible animals(when they weren't trying to secretly eat the food pellets themselves!) But, we knew we had come upon something incredible when we noticed about 10 cars stopped on the side of the road. I have included a picture so you could see the few animals who were actually at the "safari."

This is not a close-up or zoomed in shot. It was actually this close to me.

So to recap, we drove for two hours to get there, drove around for about an hour, and then drove home (about 3.5 hours away). There was a brief 30 minute diversion in the petting zoo where we had to remind Nitro that animals do not like to be hugged or have their tails pulled. Especially goats.

I'd like to say it was a fun day. But have you ever spent the better part of a day in a car with twin three year olds? :)

Actually, it wasn't that bad. I crawled in the backseat with them at one point and watched a movie. (please get a mental picture of me wedged between two car seats in the backseat of a car. It's worth your mental effort.)

The day closed with a trip to McDonalds, a gourmet meal of chicken nuggets and french fries and lots and lots of ketchup. Toddler heaven.

I felt so bad for them being cooped up in the car all day that I even let them play on the giant playground, which I am sure was teeming with disgusting germs, and if you know me well, you know how I feel about that!

All that to say, we arrived home after 9 p.m., gave our tired toddlers a much needed (albeit FAST) bath and put them in bed where they fell promptly asleep. I must remind myself that every day we are making memories with them. Sweet, precious, memories.

Day 70: Day One of our Budget Friendly Vacation

2011-07-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

Mike and I took the girls to Austin this weekend. Well, techinically we went on Sunday and Monday, which isn't EXACTLY the weekend, but hey, he makes his own schedule now, and I'm on vacation this week,so the weekend is when we say it is, and we said it was going to be on Sunday and Monday.

We chose Austin because Jacob lives there now, and Mike had never seen Jacob's apartment, and it would be cheap because we could stay at his apartment instead of a hotel (don't forget, we're on a budget, what with Mike starting his new pest control company and all . . . I hate budgets.)

Sunday's drive was just absolutely delightful, minus Shortstack throwing up her oatmeal without warning, unless you count, "my tummy hurts" coming from the backseat like twenty times. (Seriously though, don't judge me. I thought she had to poop!) Turns out she doesn't really process oatmeal and twists and turns and Pop's driving so well. Note to self, "my tummy hurts" means "I'm going to projectile vomit. Be warned."

Once we had pulled over and changed clothes and cleaned up throw-up out of the car seat and let the girls walk around on some entrance to a random ranch, we got back in the car and headed to Austin (without incident I am happy to say.)

We swam and played in the pool at Jacob's apartment (more cheap/free entertainment!) The girls loved it! Shortstack was a little intimidated, but she usually is of everything at first. Nitro, on the other hand, was fearless (as she usually is!) She kept doing this thing I started calling the "death roll" (because it reminded me a lot of what an alligator does when it has chomped its prey and is rolling over and over in the water while it drowns its victim.) I also called it the death roll because it nearly scared me to death everytime she did it without warning. (Did I mention she can't swim?) She's been practicing this move in the bathtub, but it's a lot less scary when she does it in 6 inches of water!

Then Jacob got home from work and we ate burritos and went for a long walk in search of dinosaurs (toddlers are easily manipulated, and we were tired of saying, "don't run in the house, the neighbors downstairs can hear you!") Desparate times call for creative thinking! After they were sufficiently worn out, we gave up our dinosaur search (though we did see some tracks!) and went home to go to bed.

Our napless toddlers, our very grouchy napless toddlers fell asleep at 7:50 p.m. BLISS!

Jacob was gracious and gave us his bed and bedroom for the night, while he slept on the floor in his living room. We put the girls in two pack-n-plays in the bedroom with us.

Two problems with our thinking here.

1. They have grown considerably since they last slept in those, and easily crawled right out of them.
2. Nitro bangs her head all night while sleeping. All night. In the same room with us. On my side of the bed.

I almost lost my mind! At one point, when Nitro finally stopped banging her head, I was just about to doze off and Mike started snoring. OMG!

Finally, I moved Nitro into the bathroom and turned on the bathroom fan (I hear the judgment in your head right now). (PS - Pack-N-Plays don't fit through doors so I had to completely disassemble the stupid thing, in the dark, with a sleeping baby and a half-awake husband who was receiving the brunt of my sleepless frustration!)

Day one of our budget friendly vacation. Over.

Let me give you a couple tips on Budget Friendly Vacations.
1. Stay with a family member
2. Eat their food (note to self: bachelors don't usually have a lot of food)
3. Do free stuff, like swim and go on dinosaur hunts.
4. Rent a movie at the "Green box" (it was green. it was still $1.00!)
Total cost of the day: $30 including gas and a few groceries we had to buy.

All that to say, even though it sounds like a good idea to let your toddlers skip their nap so they'll be really, really sleepy and go right to bed in the strange new place and you won't have to battle them at bedtime, don't fall for it! It's a bad, bad idea! But we still had a fun day. Here's a couple pics! (I forgot my camera so our entire vacation is on my iphone camera! Awesome.)

Nitro exploring the bottom of her shoe while sitting in timeout for jumping in the pool without warning and also without her floaties! Did I mention she is fearless? Jacob was EXACTLY like this! LOL.

Shortstack having some fun times with her Pops.

Day 69: Bored with Food (Recipe Contest!)

2011-07-16T12:54:00.001-07:00

When my sons were home, the older they got, the pickier they got, so the more restricted I felt in what was okay to cook. We had precious few meals that "everyone" loved. So when they left home, I swore our dinner choices would be wide open!

But alas, that has not been the case. I find that I still cook the same old boring recipes. Spaghetti, tacos, gumbo, breakfast for dinner, lasagne, stuffed bell peppers and sandwiches seem to be our standard fare.

Add to that the fact that I work a very full time job, and I have toddlers who aren't patient about waiting for a dinner that takes a long time to cook, and you can see how challenging it can be for me to cook a meal that is flavorful and not the same old junk I've been cooking for years.

So, I'm asking for your help. I would like your very favorite main dish recipe. It can be a casserole, a meat dish, a soup, whatever. But I have to be able to prepare it and cook it in less than one hour.

Here's the deal. You have to post the entire recipe on this blog as a comment, or as a link to your own blog where you have posted the recipe. The recipe must include a picture. Remember the time frame (see above paragraph). It cannot contain mushrooms or okra because I hate both of those.

I will personally cook each recipe for my family and will post that recipe (along with photos and my family's reaction.)

**Clarification** I'd like to have your recipes as soon as possible because I have to cook them all by October 31st. IF, and this is a big IF, you cannot submit a picture of your winning recipe, then I'll be gracious, because I really want that recipe! And it doesn't have to be original or anything like that, just good, easy, and family friendly (and without mushrooms or okra!) So start sending them in today!

If I receive at least 30 recipes, then the winner will receive a $100 gift card! The winner will be announced not later than October 31st (It's going to take some time for me to cook all these recipes!) which will give you some Christmas shopping money!

And as a bonus, add a dessert or side recipe that goes with your recipe and your winning dessert and/or side will win you a surprise prize! (That just means I don't know what it is yet!)

All that to say, I am hungry, and bored with my meals, and tired of looking up recipes online! And, as a "pay it forward" gift, I will cook the winning meal (including side and dessert) for a family in need of a meal. So get busy and send me your recipe!

Day 68: Life Unscripted

2011-07-14T12:32:00.001-07:00

I haven't blogged about this day, and I don't really know why, because as far as days go, it was absolutely one of the most perfect I have had in a really long time.

Of course, any day that is a "perfect day" for me involves family. I can't imagine anything better than spending the day with my family; my husband, my sons and my daughters.

We started our day with The Woodlands 4th of July Parade. Believe it or not, in the 14 years that I have lived in The Woodlands, I have never attended the parade. But having babies in your home again makes you do crazy things! So we braved the 100 degree temperatures and the ridiculous humidity and 15,000+ people, because, well . . . we have babies in our house!

She loves firetrucks, so the parade starting with like 10 of them in a row was just about more than she could handle! Just look at that smile. She laughed, she screamed, she blew kisses to the firetrucks, she said, "bye bye truck. Love you truck."

Her sister was a little more intimidated by the sounds and crowds and was content to spend the day in her daddy's lap or arms or sitting on top of his shoulders.

We had sweet seats at the parade because "Tina" saved us seats right in front of Sweet and Sassy. (Which by the way, also included awesome air conditioned air wafting out the doors onto us all morning!)

And Jacob braved the crowds with us because he didn't want to miss his sister's first parade! (So sweet!)

After the parade, we set up the girls' swimming pool in our front yard (yes, I said our front yard!)

along with a tent (yes a tent, it was absolutely ghetto fabulous!)

and we swam, and hung out, and ate watermelon

and made homemade banana ice cream!

All that to say, it's good to enjoy life together. We didn't plan this day. It was all just kind of thrown together last minute. From the parade to the grilled hot dogs and homemade lemonade, down to the blanket in the front yard (under the tent), it was a great day. The unscripted days always seem to be the best ones.

Day 67: Encouraged

2011-07-09T02:27:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things to do is to send people a note of encouragement in the mail. Real mail. The kind that requires an envelope and a stamp. I could give you countless stories that people have told me about how encouraging or timely or life giving those notes have been to them.

I send those cards because my love language is words of affirmation. It's how I give and receive love.

A few days ago I had one of the most loving, encouraging conversations I have had in a long time. And it was from a stranger that I met in the bathroom at church.

I guess "technically" she wasn't a stranger, though I didn't know her personally, but she knew me.

I was washing my hands (aren't you relieved to know I wash my hands when I'm finished!) when she looked over at me and said, "Sister Carol?"

I smiled at her and said, "Yes," then extended what was probably a somewhat damp hand and we shook hands, followed by a quick hug.

She said, "I wanted to tell you how much I love your prayers over the offering. They mean so much to me. You have such a sweet tender spirit and it is evident you spend a lot of time in the presence of the Lord."

Ummmmmm, wow. Needless to say, I was incredibly humbled by her statement. (As one of the Pastors of my church, I do the announcements portion of our service about once a month, and that also includes the offertory prayer and the receiving of the offering. So that's the prayer she was talking about.)

What's funny is that the whole prayer is usually like 30 seconds, maybe a minute if I go really long.

And the point of this post isn't my prayer or whether or not it's good, or whether or not I spend a lot of time in the presence of the Lord. (Because trust me I don't spend NEARLY enough time there!)

The point is how miraculously well-timed her words were to me. It had been an incredibly long and difficult day. My heart and mind were heavy with thoughts that would have easily capsized me had I given way to them for long. I was barely hanging on. Inches from tears that threatened to spill over without notice.

And in that frame of mind, over the sinks in the bathroom, the Lord sent this woman, whom I had never met, to encourage me.

Proverbs 25:11 says, "The right words at the right time are like beautiful golden apples in a silver bowl."

And though her words were soothing, I was reminded that my words are not always an encouragement. Often I speak things that do not help or heal, they hurt. Ephesians 4:29 says, "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up that it may benefit those who listen."

All that to say, in a day of hurtful words, I was reminded of how much better it is to be encouraged than cursed. With the power to hurt or heal, I should probably be a lot more careful with my words.

Day 66: Peace

2011-07-07T08:18:00.000-07:00

I have had this thought for several days now.

Peace is right in front of you.

In multiple ways I have sensed that God was saying this to me.

Peace is right in front of you.

Even in my dreams, I have heard this phrase. Last night I dreamed I saw myself in a forest that was barren. Maybe it was a forest in winter, or maybe it was a forest that was dead. But a terrible strong wind came up, not a tornado, but still a fierce wind. And the wind began to break the trees and to swirl the dead limbs and sticks and twigs all around me. I felt terrified, threatened even, by all that was swirling around me, and in my terror, I did not move.

But just ahead of me, just steps ahead, was a well worn path at the edge of the forest, my way out, peace.

And I heard these words.

Peace is right in front of you.

"What does this mean?" (I said in frustration to God in my quiet time this morning.) "Quit saying this to me and show me what you mean!"

And here is what I read in my morning devotional, (Sorry, it's long)

"Trust me with all your thoughts. I know that some thoughts are unconscious or semiconscious, and I do not hold you responsible for those. But you can direct conscious thoughts much more than you may realize. Practice thinking in certain ways - trusting me, thanking Me, and those thoughts become more natural. Reject negative or sinful thoughts as soon as you become aware of them. . . this will keep your mind in My Presence and your feet on the path of Peace."

In short, a lack of peace, is a lack of trust. I find it very easy to "say" I trust God, but the lack of peace in my life that I often feel, is simply a lack of trust in God. A lack of trust in His plan, in His goodness, and in His mercy.

All that to say, Peace is right in front of me. It's the very face of God.

Psalm 20:7 says, "Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God."

Day 65: We Are Family

2011-07-03T20:20:00.001-07:00

Anytime I entitle one of my posts with the name of a song, I can't help but wonder if you are singing the song that is running through my brain as I type. (Random start to a blog post).

Here's the real post.

I deeply love my family. Why? You ask. There are multiple reasons but here are my favorite things to do with my family.

1. Sit in a room and talk. You never know where the conversation will lead, but it is always sure to include the following: Zack speaking in musician talk, Jacob and I talking about running, someone getting a lecture or correcting someone else, someone making fun of someone else, someone quoting a movie, laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.

2. Play a game. We are a gaming family. We love to play games. And the BEST thing about playing games with my family is how much fun we have playing them. Our favorites are card games and trivia games. But we're pretty awesome at making up random games too. In fact, we made up a golf game in our front yard the other day that was so much fun that a random neighbor kid rode his bike up into our yard and started playing with us! And some of our games are even locally famous. Take F-No for example. It's a variation of UNO, only wayyyyy more fun. (If you haven't played it with us, you should. It's hilarious!)

3. Cook. We have a surprisingly good time cooking together. Even though most of us are not what I would call great cooks. I think it might be the talking and laughter that I enjoy.

4. Family Celebrations. I might be biased, but I think we ROCK at family celebrations. And somehow, no matter WHAT the celebration, we can incorporate macaroni and cheese into it. (Of course, we can also work an argument into it as well, but you put enough type A's into a room and someone is BOUND to have a divergent opinion!)

I think the thing I love the most about my family is that we all really love each other. We all have different personalities, talents, hopes, dreams, interests, strengths, weaknesses (lots and lots of weaknesses). But despite all of that, we love each other fiercely.

All that to say, I just wanted to say, I. LOVE. MY. FAMILY.

Day 64: Time

2011-07-01T19:40:00.000-07:00

"I designed time to be a protection for you."

These are the words Sarah Young penned in her book, Jesus Calling, a book written as though God, Himself, is speaking.

I have thought about these words many times since reading them.

"I designed time to be a protection for you. You couldn't bear to see all your life at once."

I am certain that is true. If I had been able to see in advance just the life that I have lived, thus far, it would have been too much.

It is why I feel certain that we are to live in the moment. Because in this moment, in the presence of the One who created this moment, I can be free from worry, free from the thoughts that plague my mind, and free from all the "what if's" that my mind so proficiently creates.

All that to say, Time is my protection. Not my enemy.

Day 63: Entitled

2011-06-28T15:07:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about this word a lot lately. I hear it often in this community where I live. I hear it often about the people who live in this community where I live. And when I do hear the word, it is never used in a positive context.

What exactly does it mean to be entitled? According to dictionary.com it means

en·ti·tled [en-tahyt-l]
verb (used with object), -tled, -tling.
1. given a title, right, or claim to something;

It basically shows ownership. For example, when you buy a house, and you are given the title to it, you are "entitled." Meaning you have the right to expect certain things as it relates to that property because you own it.

So when I hear people say that someone acts "entitled" they are basically saying that person acts like they own the place. You get the idea. It isn't positive.

But this weekend, I listened to a message in church and it made me realize just how entitled I act, most especially as it relates to the things I think God owes me.

I think I am entitled to a life of ease. I think I am entitled to a life of pleasure. I think I am entitled to a life of prosperity. I think I am entitled to a life void of disease or distress or physical pain. I think I am entitled to a marriage without stress.

In short, I think am entitled to have a life of riches and gain here on earth.

But nothing is farther from the truth.

What I AM entitled to is a life free of worry. Not free of stress, free of worry. But I choose not to claim that. I am entitled to a life of peace. But I choose not to walk in that either. I am entitled to the kingdom of heaven, because of Jesus. But somehow, that's just not good enough either. At least that's how I live.

All that to say, imagine if I would just live with the entitlement I have instead of with what I want to have.

Day 62: Jesus Calling

2011-06-22T06:50:00.000-07:00

I am reading a book called, "Jesus Calling" that my good friend Katherine Sloan sent me. She said it had really spoken to her over the last year, and so often seemed to meet her in the midst of whatever she was going through.

I absolutely love it, and would highly recommend it to you if you are looking for a brief, but meaty devotional type of book.

As a general rule, I'm not a fan of devotionals (which is kind of funny considering how many times people have told me I should write one!)

But I like this one because each day is a paragraph or two, written in the voice of God. And though I know a human being wrote the words, I feel like I am actually hearing God speak over me when I read it.

There is something so absolutely comforting in feeling that the God of the Universe is speaking directly to you. And when it happens, you can feel it, somewhere down deep inside where the depth of your soul collides with the gift of His Spirit.

I wanted to share with you a post from a couple of days ago. This is from Jesus Calling, June 20.

"I speak to you continually. My nature is to communicate, though not always in words. I fling glorious sunsets across the sky, day after day after day. I speak in the faces and voices of loved ones. I caress you with a gentle breeze that refreshes and delights you. I speak softly in the depths of your spirit, where I have taken up residence.

You can find me in each moment, when you have eyes that see and ears that hear. Ask my Spirit to sharpen your spiritual eyesight and hearing. I rejoice each time you discover my presence. Practice looking and listening for me during quiet intervals Gradually you will find Me in more and more of your moments. You will seek Me and find Me, when you seek Me above all else."

The God of the Universe, my God, speaks to me continually. The same God who spoke me into existence. Who spoke the world into motion. He speaks.

I find that my deepest sorrow comes from knowing I am just too freaking busy to listen to His voice.

All that to say, I need a hearing aid. Jesus is Calling.

Day 61: Confidence

2011-06-11T03:19:00.000-07:00

I lack confidence.

I'm sure many of you will find that surprising, as one of the things I hear most often from people is that I have so much self-confidence that it makes me come across as intimidating. (Of course, I have also been told that my posture and over-pronunciated speech also make me intimidating . . . )

I suppose I am confident about some things, maybe overly so if the truth be told.

But when it comes to running, I totally lack confidence. Every single Friday without fail, I start to panic a little. I panic on Fridays because on Saturday the group I run with does our long run. In the beginning those "long runs" were 2,3,4 or so miles. (at the time, that seemed REALLY far). But now those long runs are 10,11,12 or so miles.

And those numbers are intimidating to me.

And soon those numbers will be 15,18,20 miles.

So on Fridays, I panic. And I tell myself that I'm not ready to run that far. And I begin to notice the tiniest aches and pains in my legs, knees, feet, ankles,etc. So that by Saturday, I'm in a pretty impressive state of anxiety.

It's a miracle I can finish. But consistently, every Saturday, I finish.

So you'd think by now that I wouldn't be so nervous. But I am.

Jacob told me yesterday, "Mom, run with confidence."

I think I've read that before. "Run with confidence the race set before you." God said that too (of course He was talking about life and not running, but still, great advice.)

Just run with confidence. Run like you know you're going to finish. Sounds like a plan no matter what we're talking about.

All that to say, I'm going to try it today. I'll let you know how this whole "confidence" thing works out.

Day 60: Proximity

2011-06-09T06:35:00.000-07:00

prox·im·i·ty - [prok-sim-i-tee, noun
nearness in place, time, order, occurrence, or relation.

Prior to being a mom or a teacher or a Pastor, I worked in the corporate world as an office manager for a very large uniform company that would later become Cintas Uniforms. I was only 22, the youngest manager the company had ever hired, and I had a lot to learn.

I learned a practice early on called MBWA, management by walking around. What I thought I would learn from this practice was that I would see all of my employees slacking and my presence would intimidate them into good work behavior. (I wish that wasn't true, but it is!) surprisingly what I learned from increasing my proximity to them was that they were good people, good employees, and people genuinely eager to do the right thing! Each day as I walked around, I learned about their lives and their families and their struggles, and even some work related things I could help them with. I really began to care for them as individuals and apparently it showed, because they responded in kind. EVERYTHING went up in our department, sales, repeat customers, and we had the lowest receivables in the company, people were even paying their bills on time!

When I became a mom, I applied the same principle of MBWA to parenting, but I called it Parenting by Proximity. In the early days of PBP it simply meant moving closer to them when i wanted them to obey me ( as opposed to yelling across the room . . . Try PBP if you have little ones!) But as they got older it meant being a part of their lives. It meant listening to their dreams. It meant having a real true interest in who they are as individuals.

The thing about any relationship is that for it to be good, you have to inrease your proximity. You have to be close. (I know my brilliance is staggering at times, isn't it!).

Any relationship.

Working ones. The one you have with your spouse. The one you have with your children or your friends or your extended family.

And not surprisingly, the one you have with God.

All that to say, if you have a relationship you'd like to see improve, then take a look at your proximity. And move closer.

Day 59: I Write

2011-06-06T18:36:00.000-07:00

Blogging is a weird animal. In a very public forum, we bloggers pour out our hopes and dreams and struggles and victories. We allow you, our readers, to take a small peek into our hearts and minds, hoping that the things you find there will in some way impact your life.

But we don't always write for your benefit. Sometimes we write for our own benefit, because we need a second chance to rethink, reevaluate, and relive moments in our lives that warrant a second look.

Sometimes those second looks are joyous celebrations, memories of happy moments that we need to cherish just a little longer before we file them away.

And sometimes those second looks are an opportunity to reevaluate our thoughts, our words, or our deeds.

But there are times when I write because it affords me the opportunity to dive deep within myself; hoping, longing for, desperately needing a different answer than the one my conscious mind has supplied.

I find that I can torment myself with my thoughts. I can let them run rampant until they have ravaged my mind and very often my heart, as well. But when I write those thoughts down, when they become words on a page, they are easier to sort and discard.

So I write. I write about love and family and hurt and despair and joy and deep sorrow.

And you read, though I'm not totally sure why you do.

All that to say, I have a million thoughts running through my mind tonight, but I shall try and take them captive before they capture me first.

Day 58: Half

2011-06-03T06:44:00.000-07:00

Today I am freaking FIFTY years old. FIFTY! That's a half a century! You'd think I'd feel older. In my head, I'm like 32. (I used to be in my twenties in my head, so I guess I really am aging!) But, I'm actually neither in my twenties, nor am I 32. I am Fifty. The big 5-0. Halfway to a hundred. Heck, I practically have one foot in the grave.

So why in the world don't I feel that old?

I've always wanted to be someone who was "timeless." (notice I didn't say ageless? I'm not blind! I can see in the mirror!)

Anyway, Timeless. You know. Someone who seemed to progress with the times, and not be passed by it.

I mean, I blog. I'm on facebook. I wear TOMS.

I know NOT to say "bomb diggity."

I have good good friends in their twenties, thirties, fourties, fifties, sixties, seventies.

I'm timeless. Right?

I think the only real brush with the reality of my age came two days ago when I was shopping, and I realized I simply could not wear all those cute tops that are gathered, cinched or banded at the bottom, but instead I found myself relegated to the old lady sweater department. I felt old then. And I felt a little old when the Walmart Guy asked me if the pool I was buying was for my grandkids. I felt old then.

But, I guess I'm okay with being 50. As a general rule, I like myself. I wish I had a healthier body, but I don't want one so badly that I'm willing to forego cake in order to have it. And I'm okay with my wrinkles because I've earned them. And they show that I've lived life. And I'm okay with not being okay about gray hair. I do wish I could see better though. That is SERIOUSLY frustrating me!

I know that I love Jesus more than I ever have.

I know that I have a great marriage. Not a perfect one. But a great one.

I know that I have parented well and that I love my kids. I haven't parented perfectly, but I have loved my kids perfectly. :) Just ask them.

I know that I could change many things about my life, but the things I would change would also change where I am in my life right now, and I wouldn't change that.

And I know that I have NO FREAKING IDEA what tomorrow holds. But today, today better hold some awesome presents and an Italian Cream cake or someone is going to be in big trouble! HA!

All that to say, Happy Birthday to me, old lady.

Day 57: Feed Me

2011-06-01T14:46:00.001-07:00

My friend, Luann, has one of my favorite blogs. She is always posting about something funny, and food, and family. And every now and then, she posts a recipe, though lately she hasn't been doing much of that, so she better get busy.

In my attempt to end my tired and boring menu, I find that I am quite drawn to cooking blogs these days.

Here are a few of my favs.

Simply Modern Mom (this link is to her Over Used Recipe Swap! . . . which you will love!)

And I love this girl too!
Deanna's Corner Cooking

And I also love this one!
Real Mom Kitchen but I think I was initially smitten with the colors of her blog and then later fell in love with her recipes.

And finally, I think I love her. Where was she when my sons were still at home?!

All that to say, I hope you enjoy these as much as I do! And if you have others, send them to me! Or better yet, post your favorite recipes, I'll group them together and post them for everyone!

Day 56: Learning to Communicate . . . Again

2011-06-01T13:09:00.000-07:00

Mike and I have not ever really mastered the art of communication. When we had been married less than a year, we attended a marriage retreat weekend. At the retreat, the leader asked, "What is the most important aspect of any relationship?" I said, "Listening" and Mike said, "Talking."

We should have known right then that we were in trouble.

What we both meant was "Communication."

So pretty much from the get go we have had trouble with "communication."

A few nights ago, we were talking about all the changes in our life that were taking place at such a breakneck speed, and how those changes have really adversely affected our relationship.

Seems like we have not done a great job talking to each other through all of this.

So, we sat down and each agreed that we could give the other person a couple of things to work on as it relates to communication.

I told Mike I would like him to work on not asking every question as though it was an indictment. (Seriously, he has such a way of asking the most mundane question in such a way, you fear for your life if you answer incorrectly.) And I also asked him to share his heart with me. (Seems like all we women are asking our men for this one!)

Mike said he only had one. He asked me to just quit being such a b-scratch all the time (pretty sure you can figure out b-scratch) . . . to quit responding to every question, statement, observation or comment with a tone and an attitude. LOL. (I do that?)

We even gave each other permission to tell the other person when they are doing the thing they are supposed to stop doing.

It's working pretty well.

So well in fact, that we have actually had some fun conversations lately. He is in such a good place with all of the new business stuff, and I am LOVING that he will be home before 7:30 p.m. most nights.

Last night I said, "Babe, this is going to be so awesome. You're going to get home earlier. I won't be so worn out from the girls. We'll both be rested when they go to bed. You'll get your hopes up. I'll dash them shortly before I go to bed. It's just going to be awesome." We both laughed pretty hard. (I secretly knew I was telling the truth!)

All that to say, we're learning to communicate. Again. It's amazing what a little hope will do for you.

Day 55: Licensed to Kill

2011-05-31T05:59:00.001-07:00

Today is Mike's last day. And it's his first day.

For the last several years, he has worked in a difficult work environment. And prior to that, he worked for the same company for almost the entire 30 years of our married life. He went from a job he loved to get up and go to every day to a job that he endured. And he did it for me.

He did it because I missed my kids. He did it because I missed Texas. He did it because I could not picture myself happy in Georgia. He did it because he loved me.

And now, it's my turn to support him.

Tomorrow, Mike will start his own pest control company, called Maximum Pest Management. He's well qualified for the work, considering he has a degree in Entomology (the study of insects), and he has been published in world renowned journals for his studies in the areas of residential insects. He's trained hundreds if not thousands of employees around the nation on how to safely and effectively apply pest control products. He has been recruited by the State of Texas and the Federal Government to serve on some pretty important pest management problems caused from little bugs that slipped into our country on big shipments. And if that's not enough experience to run his own company, he worked in management for a very large pest control specialty company for almost 30 years.

The one thing he hasn't had up to this point is the willingness to take a risk. You see, he's kind of ummmm . . . shall we say . . . risk averse. So this big gigantic step is a BIG GIGANTIC step for him.

But I know he's got what it takes. And we live in Texas, the home of humidity and heat (two things bugs just seem to love!)

All that to say, I'm living with a killer. And he's licensed to kill! (That sounds so mysterious and intriguing)

Day 54: All Aboard

2011-05-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

I heard someone pray yesterday and their prayer went something like this, "Lord, help him land safely as he has jumped from one moving train to the next and he feels like he is in mid-air."

Oh how that resonated with me. I immediately had this picture of a very slow moving train, with hundreds of railroad cars attached to each other, winding through the mountain. And atop these cars was a man, jumping from one car to the next. On some of the cars he jumped easily, almost effortlessly, and then trotted down to the end of that car, ready to leap onto the next one.

At times, the gaps between cars was vast and he would have to back up and get a running start in order to be able to clear the gap and land on the next car. And on those occasions, he wasn't sure footed in his landing, but instead landed with a thud and seemed to be a rolling mass of flailing arms and legs. Eventually though, he stopped rolling, and just sat perfectly still, resting before moving on to the next car.

But here's the thing I noticed the most about him. No matter what he did. Whether he jumped or ran, or fell, or rolled, or sat perfectly still, his progress was exactly the same. He was never going to arrive to his destination any faster than the speed of that train.

I thought about that picture all day long. And I pictured myself as that man. And I pictured God as that train. I am constantly jumping and running and falling and rolling and eventually I have to just stop moving altogether because I am worn out. But no matter how hard I strive, I'm not going to arrive at my destination any faster than God intends for me to get there.

In the words of the Psalmist, "Why are you striving so hard?" Why indeed am I striving so hard. . . Imagine if I just allowed myself to ride the train.

All that to say, in the words of my two year old, "All Aboard."

Day 53: A Royal Pain

2011-05-24T05:52:00.001-07:00

We are in the midst of potty training, oddly enough a place I never thought I'd be again in my lifetime. Oh the sense of humor the Lord has. :)

In preparation of said potty training, I took the girls shopping for potty chairs and big girl panties. They were very excited about the princesses on their panties and pretty pumped about Minnie Mouse too (though to them all mice are "micka-mouse" . . . including the mouse on the computer!)

The potty chairs that they liked, (mercifully also the cheapest ones!) are pink and purple and when in the open position, they look like a throne. Very appropriate for two little princesses!

The best feature about the chairs is that when the girls "do their business" the potty chairs make a noise. I call it a royal noise because I don't actually know what you would call it. But it's like the sound of a fairy godmother's waving wand or the sound of trumpets blowing a royal fanfare. It's very cute, and it's really nice because I don't have to stand over them WILLING THEM WITH MY LASER VISION to make something happen in that potty chair. Instead, I can go about my business, (not the same "business" as theirs in case you're getting lost) and when I hear the royal noise, I know they have done something, and I can go back into the bathroom.

It's been particularly helpful on those times when they have decided to go potty without telling me they were going. So when I suddenly hear the unexpected "royal sound," I can make a dead run for the bathroom. (I fear they might try to empty the potty on their own as well . . .ewwwww.)

Super awesome singing potty chair. Best idea ever.

. . .

On second thought, maybe not.

2:10 a.m. I hear the fairy godmother wand waving noise and it awakens me from a dead sleep. I think to myself, "Did Shortstack get out of bed, (which by the way is still a crib), and walk downstairs and use the potty in my bathroom?" In my sleepy stupor, that seemed like a possibility, so I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom and sure enough, no child.

I decided I must have been dreaming, giggled a little that I was dreaming about singing potty chairs, and I drifted back off to sleep.

3:30 a.m. I hear the royal trumpet fanfare. I bolt out of the bed, completely startled, kick the end of my bed as I round the corner, think bad words, lots and lots of bad words, and then once again see my dark empty bathroom. "I'm seriously losing it," I think to myself. "This potty training of twins is taking a toll on my mind."

4:42 a.m. The potty chair sings its third song, which is hard to describe, but it sounds like something they'd play when the queen enters the room . . . again, a "royal" noise.

At this point, I get out of bed, go into the bathroom, RIP the pieces of the potty chair apart because I don't know how else to make it stop singing, kick it for good measure just to show it who's boss, and go back to bed.

5:45 a.m. (I wish I was joking) I hear the fairy godmother wand waving noise, and I'm FREAKED OUT. I know I took that stupid thing apart and now it's SINGING AGAIN! What the . . .?

Turns out, Mike got up shortly after my 4:42 karate chopping round with the chair from hell, couldn't figure out why it was all torn to pieces, and so he put it back together! I think it waited an hour to sing again just to taunt me.

All that to say, I think my potty chair might be possessed. Or, I need a day off. Or both.

Day 52: Slack

2011-05-13T14:23:00.000-07:00

"You might try cutting yourself some slack."

Sometimes the simplest sentence carries the greatest amount of weight.

So simple. Right? Why didn't I think of that?

Cut myself some slack.

The girl's psychologist said that to me today. He said, "I want you to look at these kids. Really look at them. They are happy. They are healthy. They are well-adjusted. They are content. They are joyful. They are loved. They are loving little people. Now think back to who they were a year ago. You have done extremely well under extremely difficult circumstances. You might try cutting yourself some slack."

Isn't it funny how sometimes just stepping back and putting things into perspective makes such a difference?

All that to say, I might try cutting myself some slack.

Day 51: Confusing Myself

2011-05-11T07:12:00.000-07:00

From time to time, I struggle with my prayer life. I don't mean that I struggle in having one. I'm pretty consistent about that. I often find that at random times I have zoned out of my conscious mind and find that I am deep in conversation with God.

What I mean is that sometimes I struggle in knowing what exactly to say to God.

In my logical mind, I know that prayer changes things. I know there is scripture to support that Moses convinced God to spare His people whom He was planning to wipe out. So, if God was "intent" on wiping out His people and Moses convinced Him to do otherwise, then that does indeed mean that God changed His mind, right?

It's just that sometimes when I pray, I feel like I am telling God what to do, and that feels wrong.

Examples? "Lord, take every cell, every tissue, every ligament and every tendon, and heal them for your glory." Feels a lot like I'm bossing Him around. (I actually prayed that exact prayer yesterday.)

As I was walking up to my building yesterday, I realized I was praying and I heard myself say, "Lord, you need to just . . ." (I'll spare you the details of that prayer, but suffice it to say, starting a sentence with "you need to just . . ." is going to be bossing someone around, and in this case it was God."

Of course I have not reduced my prayer life to a list of things to ask God for. It's just aht when I do want to ask Him for something,I don't actually think I know HOW to ask Him. And that thought cripples my ability to pray. And once that happens, I begin to create a formula for my prayers. You know, just to be sure I'm "doing it right."

Is this just me? Am I the only one who struggles in this?

I often say that I trust God's plan for my life. And if that is true, then why do I need to ask Him for anything at all? He already HAS a plan. So then should my prayers JUST be adoration, confession, thanksgiving? I don't think so because Jesus said in the book of John, "If you remain in me and my word remains in you, ask whatever you wish and it will be done for you." So clearly, there is nothing wrong in the asking.

All that to say, I confuse myself sometimes. Lord, teach me to pray.

Day 50: A New Beginning, Again

2011-05-09T06:50:00.000-07:00

"I know a man named Michael Finnigan. He had whiskers on his chinnigan. He pulled them out and they grew in again. Poor old Michael Finnigan. Begin again."

These are the words to a children's song. You know, the kind that just keeps starting over and over and over.

Sometimes I feel like life is like that. Just a series of restarts.

This morning at 6:50 a.m., I awakened a sleeping baby to get her ready for her day, so I could drop her off at her little preschool and I could go to work.

When I woke her up, she squinted her eyes, smiled a sleepy smile and said, "What happened, Mimi?"

Oh little one. That just often seems to be the question of the day.

Just when it looked like we had things all figured out, just when life seemed like it might settle into an easier routine, then once again the routine of our life pressed "restart."

Begin again.

The nanny is no more. We are back to early mornings and hurried breakfasts and rushed trips back into the house to retrieve whatever article it was that got left behind, and so on, and so on, and so on.

But, as I gave myself a pep talk (trust me, I REQUIRED a pep talk this morning), I decided that I was going to be positive. So I put on a smile, talked lightly with the two toddlers in my backseat, and started my day, and restarted our routine.

As I dropped them off into their classroom, the squeals of delight from their teachers and classmates left me feeling a little bit happier. Shortstack said to me on my way out, "Mimi, I in cool!" (Mimi, I'm in school!)

All that to say, it's a restart. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Day 49: The Lord Giveth . . .

2011-05-07T04:33:00.000-07:00

On Day 37, my post was "I'm Lovin' It." A short 3 weeks later and my post is, The Lord Giveth and the Lord Taketh away. Alas, our nanny only made it three short weeks.

I thought about not blogging her exit, but I thought since I blogged her entrance into our family, and since I try to be as transparent as I can be with you, my faithful readers, that I would share that we are now nannyless. :( Boo.

I'm so torn about what to do. Clearly, everyone believes that private in-home care is better for them, but there is also the risk that ANOTHER new nanny will only make it for a few weeks, and then she, too, will exit their lives. And if there is anything in life they DON'T NEED, it is people exiting their lives.

So, here we are.

The girls were really just getting used to sleeping in, eating a leisurely breakfast, and all that accompanies NOT having to be awakened at the crack of dawn and hitting the ground running.

At this point, we will most likely put them back in their little day care/preschool. The owner there is so nice, and when I called to tell her what happened, she was so nice and gracious about us coming back.

All that to say, I do trust that God has plans and purpose in all of this. Sometimes, I just wished my road map showed where we were going, and not just where we had been. I guess that's why they say life is an adventure.

Day 48: A Miserable Job

2011-05-05T07:04:00.001-07:00

I like to read. I love every kind of book . . . well, I don't really love biographies, but I try to read one or two a year just to broaden my horizons.

Anyway, one of my favorite books is a leadership book called, "Three Signs of a Miserable Job" by Patrick Lencioni. He writes his books in narrative form (he tells a story) as opposed to presenting a list of facts and theories that you should read and learn. It makes for good reading.

The premise of this book is that no matter WHAT kind of work you do,(this is for Stay-at-Home moms to CEOs of fortune 500 companies) you will most likely be miserable if the following three factors are not taken into consideration:

1. Anonymity - All human beings need to be known, valued and appreciated for who they are and for their unique qualities, by the person in authority over them. If they feel invisible, generic or anonymous, they will eventually not love their job, no matter what they are doing.

2. Immeasurement - People need to be able to measure the progress and value of their work for themselves. Regardless of how benevolent their employer might be, people will eventually be unmotivated if their only means of measuring success depends upon someone else's opinion of their work.

And lastly, and the most important in my mind is

3. Irrelevance - Everyone needs to know that what they do matters to someone. That in some way it makes someone else's life better.

I always say, "We need to connect the dots for people." We need to tell them that they matter, help them measure their own success, and remind them of why they do what they do.

All that to say, I hope you know you matter. I hope you see the progress of your life and of what you do in it. I hope you know that you were created with a purpose that was given to you by a Purposeful Creator. I hope you know that each and every day in which you awaken and take a breath, you have the potential to change your life and the life of someone else for the better.

Day 47: Celebrating

2011-05-03T07:11:00.000-07:00

I will confess, I am not very politically savvy. I'm that girl, the one that Jay Leno would make fun of in his "man on the street" interviews. For example, I was in the doctor's office the other day reading an article about Hilary Clinton. In the article, they kept referring to her as Secretary Clinton. "Secretary Clinton?", I thought. Why do they keep calling her that?

Yes. I'm THAT out of touch! I remember her being offered the position, but I don't remember her accepting it. I remember her turning it down.

It's not that I don't care about political things, or world events. I guess I just pay attention to a different set of things. Some people are zealous about global warming, some about rescuing sex slaves, some about having clean water in the world, and some pay attention to political and world events.

They are all important.

Anyway, I find that I am somewhat unsure of how to respond to Osama Bin Laden's death. Perhaps I just do not understand the political ramifications of it.

I find it easy to believe there is justice in his death, but I find it difficult to celebrate his actual death. What set me on this path of thinking is that I called a family member this morning and when I asked her what she was doing, she said quite jubilantly, "I'm drinking coffee and celebrating Osama's death."

I've had many friends tell me that if I had lost someone in 911 I might not find it difficult to celebrate his death. But I just don't know.

All that to say, I think my struggle is in celebrating that someone, really ANYONE, would be spending eternity in hell. I just cannot find it in me to celebrate that.

Day 46: Good Medicine

2011-05-01T19:06:00.000-07:00

When Zack and Jacob were little, they were just never interested in Band-aids. Well, technically Zack was disinterested. Jacob was downright phobic. When he would fall down and get hurt, if he saw blood, he would cry. Not because he was bleeding. Oh No. He would start crying immediately and say, "No band-aid please. No band-aid please." To this day, he still doesn't like band-aids. I don't think he fears them (I haven't really asked in years) but I don't think he likes them.

So, having two little ones who LOVE them is a new experience. Usually, when they bring me a band-aid (where DO they keep finding these things?!), I say, "No. We aren't going to pretend like we need band-aids. Band-aids are for when you are really hurt."

But for some reason, yesterday, I gave in.

This is one of those stories that is so much funnier in person, but I'm going to attempt to tell it.

So, yesterday I gave in. I opened the band-aid and put it on Shortstack's imaginary boo-boo on her shin. She trotted off quite happy with her treasure.

But then I put Nitro's band-aid on her imaginary boo-boo on her knee, and her reaction to the band-aid made me laugh so hard, I cried and then almost peed my pants.

I took her off my lap and set her down on the floor, and the second her foot hit the ground (the one on the "injured" leg)she started limping like her leg literally was going to fall off. Her limp was so impressive that the second her foot would try to take a step, she would IMMEDIATELY pick it back up. (Think of a cat with a piece of tape on it's paw!)

She even whined and whimpered like her leg was about to fall off. I mean, she had it DOWN. She gives a whole new meaning to the words DRAMA QUEEN!

Tonight, I let Zack and Christina witness this experience. And sure enough, once again, the "injured" leg became immediately unable to sustain ANY weight. They laughed until they cried!

Oh how I wish I had a video to show you! This retelling simply does not do it justice!

All that to say, laughter is good, good medicine.

Day 45: Step Up

2011-04-29T05:37:00.001-07:00

A little more than a year ago, I was out to eat with some girlfriends when we ran into Debs Walker (my personal hero, and probably the hero of many others, truth be told). She laughingly asked us if we'd like a couple of 18 month old twins.

I remember so distinctly telling her "No way, girl. I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel!"

No way indeed.

But God had different plans for our lives. And these sweet little girls (pictured less than a week after their rescue) needed us to step in and intervene on their behalf.

And here they are now. One year later.

It's just incredible what the Lord has done in all of our hearts and lives, but especially in theirs. There's still so much healing to be done for sure. But just look how far they've come in a year!

Last weekend, while talking to Kim Dale, the Big Mama over at Loving Houston, (the organization that placed the girls in our home), I learned that she has more babies and children than she has licensed homes to put them in. She was thrilled for us that we are getting licensed, but truthfully, our getting licensed isn't a big help to her because we simply cannot take in more kids. (Right Lord? :) )

There are countless "Nitros and Shortstacks" out there who need you to step out of your comfort zone (I get how BIG that step is) and step in to rescue them. Mike and I are 50+. We have an empty nest. We work full-time. Our finances are beyond tight. We have a million reasons why fostering doesn't make sense for us. There are a million reasons why it doesn't make sense for you either.

All that to say, would you please pray and ask God how you can be used to rescue babies. There will never be a "right time", I promise you. Call me, message me, or comment on this blog, and I will get you connected.

Day 44: Boogers are Gross

2011-04-28T14:39:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't know me really well (and perhaps for some of you who do) you may not know that I have this . . .er . . . "thing" about certain body noises.

NO, I'm not talking about those kinds of body noises!

The ones I mean are the sound a loose tooth makes when you wiggle it back and forth with your tongue. Or the sound phlegm makes in the back of someone's throat, so they have to swallow in order not to drown on it.

I also do not like boogers. I cannot stand the sound someone makes when they blow their noses. I don't want to watch them look at their hanky or tissue after they blow their noses to inspect the "goods."

In short, I'm not a fan of what comes out of your nose.

And I'm also a pretty firm believer in not eating what comes out of your nose. Also gross.

So yesterday, when Nitro picked her nose and ate it, I just about threw up. Of course I explained to her that we are ladies and ladies don't eat their boogers.

Well, Shortstack, not to be outdown by her sister, reaches up into her own nose, but alas does not find a booger to eat, so . . . YEP . . . she reaches right up her sister's nose, pulled out a booger, and ate it so fast, I didn't even have time to react.

All that to say, some days you just need to be grossed out! It kind of SHOCKS you back to reality! :)

Day 43: Choose Your Fruit

2011-04-28T07:16:00.000-07:00

I read a book called, "Axioms" by a man named Bill Hybels. Bill says in chapter one of his book, "Words Matter."

Words do matter. Even one word can change the emotional weight of a sentence.

For example, that this sentence.

"I dislike chocolate."

What if I changed it to, "I hate chocolate."

Feels different, right?

What if instead of saying something was unhealthy, I said it was "toxic"?

Again, feels different, right? And in each sentence, I only changed one word.

Words matter. They have weight. They have value. They can build up or tear down. They can motivate or discourage. That can soothe or inflame.

Imagine what each of our lives would be like if we recognized the power of our words . . . the power of our tongue. "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and they that love it shall eat of its fruit. - Proverbs 18:21"

All that to say, choose your words, but better yet, choose the fruit of your words.

Day 42: I'm Quoting Yoda

2011-04-27T14:12:00.000-07:00

A lot of years ago, I was a school teacher. Seems like a lifetime ago.

One year, our principal called me into his office. He said, "Are you interested in teaching 5th grade. We like you and think you would be great with this age group." In that moment, I was unsure. I had never taught 5th grade, but I liked the idea of 5th grade. So I said I would think about it.

As I walked out of his office, one of the 5th grade teachers who was waiting in the waiting area, got up and walked in, saying to the Principal, "You wanted to see me?"

As she walked in, I thought to myself, "Is he moving her too?" But he wasn't moving her. He was letting her go.

And the fact that she saw me come out of his office, combined with the fact that I did end up taking that 5th grade position, created a maelstrom of gossip like you would not imagine.

She surmised (as I probably would have if in her shoes) that she had been let go because I wanted her job.

The last part of that school year, and the summer, and the beginning of the next school year were torturous as countless parents and teachers blamed me for the situation. And try as I might, I could not convince them otherwise.

But a very wise co-worker said to me, "You generally cannot defend yourself against gossip. So the best thing to do is to leave it up to God to defend you. He knows the truth."

So I did. And He did.

That taught me a valuable lesson, and created in me a life axiom that I say all the time; "The truth always finds a way."

All that to say, the tongue is such a powerful tool. We must, in the words of Yoda, "Use our powers for good." (Wow . . . I'm quoting Star Wars!)

Day 41: He's Not Always Wrong

2011-04-26T06:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not an Obama fan. I want to say that up front, because I'm certain to get hate mail over this post. I didn't vote for him, and I don't agree with many of the decisions he makes. Of course, I don't often agree with the decisions of the people I DID vote for, but that's a different post, and not the point of this one.

The point of this post is what President Obama had to say about Easter. You see, he did, in fact, have something to say about Easter. Maybe he didn't make a Presidential Proclamation that Jesus is Risen. News Flash. Jesus is Risen (with or without the proclamation). But here is what President Obama did have to say about Easter (at a prayer breakfast he hosted).

"I wanted to host this breakfast for a simple reason -- because as busy as we are, as many tasks as pile up, during this season, we are reminded that there's something about the resurrection -- something about the resurrection of our savior, Jesus Christ, that puts everything else in perspective.

"We all live in the hustle and bustle of our work... But then comes Holy Week. The triumph of Palm Sunday. The humility of Jesus washing the disciples' feet. His slow march up that hill, and the pain and the scorn and the shame of the cross. And we're reminded that in that moment, he took on the sins of the world -- past, present and future -- and he extended to us that unfathomable gift of grace and salvation through his death and resurrection.

"In the words of the book Isaiah: "But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed."

"This magnificent grace, this expansive grace, this 'Amazing Grace' calls me to reflect. And it calls me to pray. It calls me to ask God for forgiveness for the times that I've not shown grace to others, those times that I've fallen short. It calls me to praise God for the gift of our son -- his Son and our Savior."

All that to say, so beautifully spoken . . . This magnificent grace, this expansive grace, this 'Amazing Grace' should call us all to reflect. In the case of these words. He got it right.

Day 40: Book Deal in the Making?

2011-04-25T17:24:00.000-07:00

So, someone suggested to me recently, that I should write a book. Oh seriously, who am I kidding? People have been telling me that for years. But honestly, I don't want to. I love to write, don't get me wrong, I just don't know that I have anything to write about that people would want to read . . . you know . . . in a book.

A blog is easy. Takes two minutes out of your day. I may or may not say anything of value. If you get nothing out of it, well, it was free. And it didn't suck too much of your life away. But if it's good, well, it was free. And you got something good, something of value, and it only took a few minutes of your time. So, bonus! Right?

But a book. I just don't know. Maybe the task seems too daunting. Maybe that's why I don't want to do it. I used to say it was because the moment something that you love doing becomes a "job" it takes the fun out of it.

But maybe all those excuses, "who would read it?" "what do I have to write about?" "what if it makes me hate writing . . ." maybe they are just that . . . excuses.

All that to say, IF I were to write a book, what would you want me to write about? (not saying I'm writing a book people, just asking the question. Just asking the question.) And no pressure, but I'm really gonna need you to respond, just in case I decide to take this seriously. And don't forget to answer the question.

Day 39: A Good Day

2011-04-24T19:29:00.000-07:00

I love holidays. I love them. I love everything about them. Even the crazy, maddening stuff. (Why does just about every holiday come with crazy, maddening stuff?)

But the thing I love most about holidays is the family time. I have cherished the moments with my husband and sons over the years. And I love that we are getting to create new special traditions with our girls. And I am looking forward to the holidays that we will have with our new daughter-in-law someday soon.

Today was wonderful (minus the twenty minutes getting out of the church parking lot!)

Here are my top five from the day:

1. Watching Mike and Baby "S" snuggling on the couch this morning while the house was still quiet.

2. Taking communion with Jacob.

3. Watching the girls Easter Egg Hunt, and loving how much the boys loved it!

4. Zack playing with the girls all afternoon. He was so incredible with them.

5. Bedtime. (I think bedtime will always be a top 5!)

All that to say, I am loving that I am learning to live one day at a time. Because it sure makes days like today special. I am content. It was a good day.

Day 38: Rescue

2011-04-20T14:41:00.001-07:00

We attended a dinner last night. A celebration of sorts. That's how it felt to me. Family and friends, all filling a room to celebrate. To celebrate life, and living, and love, and Jesus, and freedom.

A celebration of being rescued.

Our girls were rescued. From the street. From a life of instability. From peril.

But oh sweet friends. We were rescued all the more. From our own agenda that was focused on retirement, and retirement funds, and empty nests and old age.

I am so grateful to be rescued from that. It is so much more fun to think of the continuance of our lives rather than just surviving until the end of them.

All that to say, thank you my sweet babies for rescuing us. Your Mimi loves you.

Day 37: I'm Lovin' It

2011-04-18T06:12:00.000-07:00

It's day one of "the Nanny." (Welcome to the blog, Amy!)

At 7:24, I was fully dressed. No stains on my clothes. Sipping a cup of coffee and thinking through my day.

Normally, at 7:24 a.m., I was battling someone to do their hair, or "encouraging" someone to shove their breakfast down their throats at breakneck speed, or drink their drink, or stop taking their shoes off, and on, and on, and on.

I hated that schedule for the girls. Everytime I awakened a sleeping baby, I could only think, "poor thing, you just shouldn't wake a sleeping baby!"

I hated that we were raising the girls from the earliest of age to go at life, full speed, from the moment their feet hit the floor in the morning.

So this morning, at 7:40, I went upstairs to say, "Good morning," before I left for work. And I was greeted by a sweet little girl sitting in her bed, singing to her sock monkey. That's how to start the day.

Shortstack was a little worried, a little apprehensive (I knew this because she was licking her sock monkey's ear . . . when she's worried, she licks).

But I know they are in good hands with "Miss Amy." And just to make sure their first day goes well together, Tina came over to hang out in the morning. And they love their Tina. So, I'm sure it will be a good day.

All that to say, I'm lovin' it already. I hope Amy feels the same way by the end of the day. As I was leaving, I heard Tina tell her the story of the time the girls wiped poop all over their crib when they were supposed to be napping. (I walked out really quickly, just in case she changed her mind about staying!)

Day 36: I Get to Live This Life

2011-04-15T06:05:00.000-07:00

There are days that I am truly overwhelmed by my life. For any number of reasons. I could make a list in fact, but the list would just overwhelm me all over again.

And at the end of the day, should I be listing the things in my life that are overwhelming?

I have learned that counting the negative only puts you in the hole, emotionally, physically and spiritually.

And I have learned that dwelling on the what ifs tends to lead me down a path of tremendous worry.

Living in the moment is so much better. Because if this moment isn't great, there's another moment just around the corner and it might be incredible.

Case in point, last night, one of two tempermental two year olds who live in my house had a fit because she suddenly decided she wanted juice instead of water (though she had already consumed half of her drink). I guess maybe it just suddenly dawned on her that I had given her water and maybe she felt duped. Who knows? She's two.

So she melted down. I gave her a pep talk or two, tried to playfully encourage her out of her tantrum, tried offering time out as an option to pull herself together, but it wasn't happening.

My choice? I chose to go run bath water, fill it full of bubbles, strip down said screaming two year old and toss her (not literally, though I considered it!) into the water.

The result was this photo.

From the pit to the mountain. In a moment.

All that to say, I get to live this life. And I get to live it moment by moment.

"Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes." Matthew 6:34 MSG

Day 35: Fact Freak

2011-04-14T07:03:00.000-07:00

This morning, as I was updating my blog, I noticed a button that said, "STATS." Now for those of you that don't know me really well, and perhaps for some of you who DO know me really well, it might surprise you to know that I am a fact FREAK! I collect facts like some people collect dust on their ceiling fans (that's a lot, in case you're confused with my analogy!)

So, as I click over to the STATS page, heart racing, palms sweaty, I see a button that says, Views by Country. "Views by Country?" I am intrigued. So I look.

This is crazy y'all. But look at my views THIS MONTH from all over the world. That's a little creepy. I'm not gonna lie. How do these people even know I exist?

United States 9,058
Russia 83
Canada 77
Netherlands 76
Senegal 44
Germany 43
United Kingdom 39
South Korea 31
Ukraine 31
Philippines 27

And just for the record, I don't even know where SENEGAL is!

All that to say, I do love a good fact. But this one creeps me out! But hey all you peeps across the oceans, thanks for reading!

Day 34: Turns Out It IS About Me

2011-04-14T06:27:00.001-07:00

This morning as I was sitting on my couch drinking a nice warm cup of coffee, I heard Little S say in the sweetest little voice, "Mimi, I awake. Mimi, you hear me?"

I smiled and felt a pretty deep glow of contentment in that moment. Happily I set down my coffee and went upstairs to pick her up out of bed.

Two mornings ago, I was sitting on the couch drinking a nice warm cup of coffee. It had been a long, sleepless night. The girls had taken turns most of the night being awake. So when I heard that squeaky little high-pitched voice say, "Mimi, I awake. Mimi, you hear me?", I felt a deep glow all right, but it wasn't contentment. It went a little more like, "Seriously, I can't even finish my cup of coffee!"

I was thinking about that this morning and it reminded me of a talk I gave at a MOPS group once. I was telling the ladies there that some mornings I wake up and I see my sweet husband drooling on his pillow and hear him gently snoring, and I look at him and think I am the luckiest woman in the world. At other times, I wake up and I see him drooling and snoring and think, "Who is this Cretan sleeping next to me?"

Two sets of circumstances, both identical, and yet in each circumstance I am content one moment and irritated the next.

All that to say, turns out is IS about me. I am the one choosing my attitude. Everytime. No matter what. I choose my attitude. I choose joy. I choose peace. I choose contentment. (I might need to say that to myself a few times!)

Day 33: Cling to What is True

2011-04-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

There is a very fine line between believing your own press and believing what other's think about you and believing truth.

Rarely will your own press be a 100% representation of the true you. It's polished up. It's pretty. It leaves out the part about you yelling at your kids, or neglecting your marriage, or being a bad cook (not saying ANY of those things are true about me!)It's your press. It's designed to make you look good.

And rarely will what other's think about you be the total truth either. It's tainted. Tainted you ask? Sure. It's tainted with people perception of the you they see in the work place, or at church, or at school, or in social settings. Sometimes it's tainted with gossip. Sometimes it's tainted with past experiences. Rarely is it a 100% representation of the true you.

Most often, the true you is not someone anyone else gets to see. Only you know the true you, and even you can be blinded to your own faults and deceived by what you WANT to believe is true about yourself.

So how do you differentiate and really see yourself for who you are?

It's easy. But it's hard.

Look at yourself through God's eyes? How do you do that? Ask Him. "God, what do you see in me that has value? What do you see in me that needs to be stripped away? What have I believed about myself that isn't true."

He's not blind. And He's incapable of lies.

All that to say, cling to what is true. More importantly, cling to the Source of truth.

Day 32: This Surreal Life

2011-04-12T07:58:00.000-07:00

Two days ago I was celebrating the engagement of my oldest child to the woman of his dreams.

Last night I was melting down along with my twin two year olds.

At one point, after we had all had a good fit, I said, "Ladies, we are all ladies. And ladies don't scream and ladies don't have fits." :) I needed to hear it too!

Oh, the highs of parenting, the lows of parenting.

Then there's just the funny stuff that makes you shake your head and laugh.

It was bath time. Shortstack was sitting happily in the tub, just playing and singing, but her stubborn sister refused to sit in the tub. She kept telling Mike (who was giving them their baths) "hiney, hiney." He kept saying, "The water isn't hot. Sit down and take a bath."

But there was no convincing her. He had her bend down and feel the water, but she just kept saying "hiney, hiney."

Finally, he said, "Either sit down or I am taking you out of the tub." But she continued to refuse. So, he did in fact, take her out of the tub. Only to discover a little turtling turd hanging from her . . . "hiney, hiney."

So he quickly grabbed her and whisked her to the potty where she successfully finished her business.

In the meantime, Shortstack continued to play in the tub. Now the thing about Shortstack and the bathtub is that she will find and grab and try to eat the tiniest ANYTHING floating in the bathtub. But over time I have trained her to understand that she can't eat these things. And instead, she is to find them and give them to me. (I KNOW you see where this is going . . . !)

So, she says to me, "Here Mimi." I hold out my hand, expecting it to be a hair, or a piece of grass, or some other tiny little thing, and instead she hands me a piece of poop. And not a little piece of poop. Oh no. It's like the size of an egg, and she has firmly compressed it in her little hand. So suddenly, I have a piece of poop in my hand! I scream and drop it (like it's acid or something!) I yank her out of the tub, drain the water, bleach out the bathtub, re-run the bath water, and finally finish bath time.

(I did have a little conversation with Nitro as well, telling her next time to say "poo poo" instead of "hiney." But seriously, I hope there isn't a "next time.")

All that to say, my life is so surreal. From engagement to poop. In one day. Just keeps me humble, you know?

Day 31: ENGAGED!!!

2011-04-11T04:58:00.001-07:00

From the day my sons were born (or closely thereafter), I started praying for the men they would become. In the beginning, those prayers were focused on school and jobs and being good providers, because, well, I thought that's what a man should focus on.

But over time those prayers changed. I prayed for them to love Jesus more than money. I prayed for them to set themselves aside for the woman that God would someday give them. I prayed they would love their wife. I prayed that they would cherish her and treasure her.

And then I started praying for her, whoever "her" was going to be. (I mean, after all, she was going to be married to my son!) I prayed that she would be a woman who loved Jesus more than anything else. I prayed that she would set herself aside for my son, whom she would someday marry. And I prayed that she would love my son with the deepest love, a love even a mother could not fathom.

It's funny how it happens when you pray so long for something, and then over time you watch it transpire. God is good like that.

Last night, Zack got engaged. And he proposed to the most incredible young woman. She's the woman I have prayed for for him. For years. And I love that God, in His lovingkindness, has given Christina to Zack.

I wouldn't say that "happy" describes how I feel, because it's such a small word to describe the emotions in my heart and mind this morning. I think "contentment" comes closer to the word, but mixed in with a crap-ton of ELATED! (Sorry, I said crap-ton)

All that to say, welcome to our family, Christina Taylor. I can officially love you now.

Day 30: Practice Makes Perfect

2011-04-05T07:02:00.000-07:00

It was Christmas, 1994, and we had very suddenly decided to drive from Corpus Christi to Louisiana to visit our families for Christmas. And when I say, "suddenly," I mean like it was Christmas Eve morning.

I remember the year because Zack was 10 years old and he so desperately wanted a skateboard for Christmas, and I being the safe parent that I was, had determined that he did not NEED a skateboard because I did not NEED a child with broken bones.

However, on the drive to Louisiana he convinced me that he could and should have one.

But . . . it was Christmas Eve . . . and we were driving to Louisiana.

So every single chance we got, we stopped somewhere along the way to search for a skateboard. (Trust me this was no small task since Zack was WITH US!)

Finally we arrived at our destination in Louisiana, dropped the kids off at Mike's mom's house and went in SERIOUS SEARCH of a skateboard.

When I think about that search, the frantic way we went from store to store, the way we dashed in, ran to the aisle where skateboards should be, found none and ran out of the store, jumped back in the car, drove to the next store . . . lather, rinse, repeat . . .

When I think about that search, I have a VERY CLEAR picture of what "seeking" looks like.

Seeking. It's looking with a purpose, with an urgency, with a sense of need, with a desperation.

In my quiet time this morning I read this, "For you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you."

And I thought to myself, "Am I seeking you Lord? Is there an urgency, a need, a desperation in the depths of me as I seek you, as I seek your will?"

Sometimes, if I am honest, I treat God as though He is generally a "good idea" and not someone in whom I have placed my trust, my heart, my life. How different would my life look if I were really seeking Him?

All that to say, I'm learning to seek. And the pathway to any learning is filled with the opportunity to practice what you are being taught. God is giving me ample opportunities to practice seeking Him. Practice makes perfect. Or so I hear.

Day 29: Mommying

2011-04-04T04:40:00.000-07:00

We don't know what tomorrow holds. For that matter, we don't know that there will BE a tomorrow. So learning to live one day at a time is a pretty good idea. One I have not yet fully learned to embrace.

There is such a balance in living for today, but being practical about tomorrow.

For example. We don't know if we will have the girls forever. We try to live like we will. But there are always these things that creep into my mind that make me think, "I should teach them "xyz" just in case they ever have to go back and live with their birth mom."

Maybe in thinking they will one day go back to her, I am not trusting or believing or having faith (as I have OFTEN been told). Or maybe, just maybe, I am standing before God saying, "You've got this one. So let me know my role."

As I plan for the future, whatever their future holds, I try to teach them things that I think will be necessary no matter where their future lands them.

Last night, the girls were playing "night night" with their new ponies, so I seized the teachable moment to help them be "good mommies." They read to their babies (just as we do). And then they each sang a song to their babies (Jesus Loves Me was the song of choice for both girls) and then they each rocked their babies and prayed over them (just as we do).

So precious. (I seriously wished I'd had my camera with me, I would have photographed it!)

It was funny that Baby S (our verbal one) prayed a mealtime prayer over her baby ("Dee-uh Gah, fank you for my food. Jesus name. Amen) and Baby N (our mostly non-verbal one) prayed a very long prayer (that no one understood but her and God) and ended with a whispered "Amen" into the ear of her pony.

I praised them both and told them what great mommies they were! Good mommying is a taught skill I think (at least in most cases) and bad mommying is a taught skill as well. I have seen this first hand in their lives.

All that to say, tomorrow may never come, but if it does, they'll be ready. No matter what.

Day 28: Filter Please

2011-03-28T05:30:00.000-07:00

Seriously, I need a filter. Actually, that's not true. What I should say is that I need a BETTER filter.

You see, I have this problem. I might have mentioned this before, but every member of my family has a genius level IQ. I don't say this pridefully, as I am not the one who created this brain in my head. We can't be prideful over what we are given. We can only be responsible for how we use it. (But it still ALWAYS sounds prideful when you say it, so I try not to say it, but for this blog it was important information . . . anyway)

The danger of having the kind of brain that literally absorbs knowledge, is that very often I have this . . . ummm . . . let's call it an "urging" to spill out my knowledge.

I try to filter this annoying habit, because I know that most people don't really want to be informed about all my superfluous information.

Case in point.

The other day I was at my kid's day care and the teacher was laughing because "Nitro" was skipping into class. I said, "yeah, we've been working on skipping. It's good for the brain."

I should have stopped there. I know I should have.

But then she did it. (The teacher, I mean)

She looked at me. She gave me that inquizzical "huh?" look. (PS - don't do that in my presence).

So I HAD to do it. I HAD to tell her all I know about skipping and how it's as important to long term reading development as crawling is. And how children who do not learn to crawl and do not learn to skip often have significant reading problems.

Seriously. I said all of that. To their teacher. Who didn't care. And was probably thinking, "who are you?"

All that to say, I wish that stupid information (like how many pairs of wings termites have) didn't come spilling out of me. But it does. So if it happens to you, please pardon me. I need a better filter. But I am trying! (and in case you are wondering, it's 2, 2 pair)

Day 27: Borrow Tomorrow

2011-03-28T04:10:00.000-07:00

It's funny how often I have to keep relearning the same lessons. If I looked back on my life, I'll bet I would have a few main categories of lessons. They'd probably be

1. Wait Until I Say You Can
2. Get Some Rest
3. Don't Believe Your Own Press
4. Don't Worry About Tomorrow

And let me tell you, I have learned each of these lessons the hard way!

But right now, I am in the season of "Don't Worry About Tomorrow."

This is my conversation with God.

"Carol, this is God. You might recall that in my Word that I said "THIS . . . is the day that the Lord has made (emphasis on the word THIS, Carol.) Not tomorrow, Carol. But this present day is the day I have made. And I followed that up with "Rejoice and be glad in it."

These are not just good ideas, Carol. They are words to live by. I couldn't help but notice you've struggled with that a bit over the last year. It's not that hard really if you think about it. But let me break it into words I think you can handle.

TODAY is the day I want you to live. This day. And I don't want you to borrow trouble from tomorrow, or next week, or ten years from now. You don't need to know how the story ends. You need to live today and rejoice in it.

Carol, I also said in my Word that today has enough trouble for today. That was my way of saying, "Quit worrying about everything!" Just live today and rejoice in it.

I made you my sweet daughter. I put that brain in your head. And I created you to be a planner, a strategic thinker, an organizer of details. Those are strengths. Don't let your tendancy to worry about tomorrow turns those strengths into weaknesses. Be strong and use those strengths to live today and rejoice it in.

And let me end with this thought, Carol. If you think you need to worry about tomorrow, imagine you hear my words in your ear saying, "I've got it Carol. I've got it."

All that to say, I won't borrow tomorrow. (Though I will be tempted to do so.) I will live for today, and I will rejoice.

Day 26: Heavy

2011-03-25T19:16:00.000-07:00

There has not been a single day (that I can recall) during the entire last year with our girls that I have wavered in my resolve.

That's probably not true. I'll bet there have been tons of days and I have just forgotten them.

But today my legs feel pretty wobbly underneath me.

Today was "visitation day." Our first one in six weeks. SIX WEEKS.

I have written and deleted so many sentences because I want to share my heart in this, but I want to be careful about the details too.

I'll say this. It's been almost one year ago (April 9th) that the girls came into our home. Of that last year, they were out of our home for 11 weeks. And in that one year, we have seen so much heartache and anguish pour out of them.

But they are toddlers. They only know one way to express those heavy, heavy emotions. They meltdown.

Today was very hard for them. And me. And us.

All that to say . . . (insert heavy sigh here).

Day 25: At Any Time

2011-03-17T14:44:00.000-07:00

I read this phrase on a friend's blog.

It made my mind race. And my heart.

At any time . . . I can choose to throw in the towel and say "I'm done."

At any time . . . I can decide that all this is just not worth the heartache.

At any time . . . I can say "forget you" and move on with my life.

At any time.

Any time.

But I can assure you this, that time is never going to come. I'm never going to say I'm done. I'm never going to remove my heart from the equation. I'm never going to move on.

At any time I have the option of choosing a much easier life.

But is that really the life I want to live? (Hell yes it is! I want to live the easier life! Who wouldn't?)

But the easier life is not the life we're called to.

So I choose to live this life

that God has called me to,

for as long as He calls me to it.

All that to say, at any time you'll find me here.