While mommy was baking...(with tattoo)

What Judah was up to while mommy was baking wedding cakes.

Note the black ink on his nose, his arms and his legs. He really went to town with that pen. And can we say jumbo permanent marker? I can only hope it will all come off by the wedding reception Saturday!

From sleeping angel to hell's angel in 30 minutes flat. When I looked at him sternly as I could muster while trying not to laugh, I said, "What happened, Judah?" He just grinned and said around his binky, "Tattoo!"

I couldn't help but to laugh.

A Cricket in the Kitchen (with haiku)

Last night while my husband was barbecuing at the grill out our back door, a cricket managed to sneak into our kitchen, where it laid low until about 7:00 this morning.

I generally like the sound of crickets chirping (or whatever it is they do). I like hearing it when I'm outside, when I'm out enjoying the evening breeze. Then it's a pleasant, relaxing sound. Musical, almost, with many crickets joining in, their chorus loud yet perfectly diffused somehow by the vast space around them.

But one cricket in the kitchen, alone, chirping and echoing loudly off the walls is nothing short of annoying. Like a constant ringing in your ears. I actually woke up when it started up it's little symphony, because it sounded like something was gravely wrong with my air conditioner. It was like that screeching metal sound of a motor that is going bad. Or a fan belt problem in the car. Or a household fire alarm that won't go off even when the smoke has cleared.

:: ::

Make it stop! The sound is still going strong in my kitchen at 8 am! It brings to mind that verse, If a man loudly blesses his neighbor early in the morning, it will be taken as a curse. Proverbs 27:14 NIV

Cricket don't you know
loud sound in morning will be
taken as a curse?

The wedding cakes can wait. I've got to find that cricket. No matter which way I turn, the ear closest to the cricket is assaulted with the loud, screeching sound, and I'm going berzerk! I think it's behind my stove. Maybe turning the oven on to bake the rest of my cakes will chase it out from it's hiding place.

Cricket make your song
out of doors where you belong
in house you will die

:: ::

Last night a thunderstorm swept through our area. Rumbling and growling in the sky, and flashing angry lights on us. This morning I could see rain off in the distance towards the East. I hope we get some of it here. It will help cut down on the dust, and will bring some blessed relief to us in this stifling heat. It didn't cool off last night until after 9:00. This morning, it was already hot and close when I woke up at 7:00. Hot weather makes me cranky. I think it's going to be a long, long day.

:: ::

He's baaaaaaack. We had some blessed quiet for about an hour, but it's 11:27 and he's at it again. Stridulating. That's what it is called when the cricket makes their sound.

And this is a lovely little bit of trivia, it's usually the sound they make to attract a mate.

That's all I need in my kitchen right now.

As if one cricket isn't enough.

Traffic Court

While I've always enjoyed this fast food restaurant's marketing campaign, I was thinking today after my little 'traffic ticket' experience at the courthouse that one should never say such things to Officers. Things do not go well for those who get lippy with law enforcement. Even if one is not happy with law enforcement for giving them a ticket for doing something wrong, one needs to respect their authority. Respect them for their position. They are the authority, instituted by God, Scripture says, and it is our duty to give them their due respect.

I might add that calling the deputy 'fool' within earshot is probably not a good idea, either. There were those in line at the courthouse this morning that would not stop running off at the mouth, and were sternly rebuked, almost not permitted to take care of their business with the court today as a result. They were flipping out about not being allowed to wear hats and shorts into the courtroom, or to have pagers on or use cellphones. To me, that's just basic common sense, but these people were beligerent about it, and showed a total lack of respect for authority. I'm guessing though, that if one of their loved ones were victimized, and those same officers came to their rescue, their attitudes would sure change!

One thing I observed was that our legal system is set up in such a way as to make folks appear before the judge, by themselves, to give an accounting for their actions. To contest the ticket usually does not work in one's favor. But if a person admits their guilt, the Judge will often knock your fine amount down some. While I ended up just paying the ticket (since it was half of what I'd been expecting and to get out of there sooner), I was admittedly relieved. I felt so nervous about having to go before all those strangers and the Judge, and to have to declare my guilt.

It got me thinking about how thankful I am to have Jesus' blood covering me. That He took upon His body on the tree all of my sin and iniquity. That He paid the price on my behalf. I was nervous about standing before the human judge for a traffic ticket, but to stand before Almighty God on judgement day without that covering? That makes me shudder in fear! And yet, countless, untold millions around our world are headed for that! It is imperative that we be busy about the Lord's work!

I'm also so very thankful that we at least have a legal system in this country, and that it does provide justice for the most part! It could be like other countries where you are just thrown in prison until you can pay the fines, however long that might take. Or stoned for your crimes, whether truly guilty or not. Or living in a country with very little justice or law whatsoever.

In spite of my irritation with having been issued a moving traffic violation for speeding (on my vacation), I knew darn good and well I was guilty. I planned to plead guilty. And if I'd stayed to declare my guilt before the judge (instead of just paying the fine), he might even have knocked down the cost some, but in the end, I was so thrilled at the cost being far less there than in our county and that they would allow me to attend traffic school to clear it from my record...that I was rejoicing (in my heart I was kicking up my heels in glee)! And we were home before 11:30, and that place is over an hour and a half away!

Which, in turn, made me very grateful to the officer who pulled me over that day, who went ahead and marked me down to 15 miles over the speed limit instead of what I had really been doing (which would have been considered reckless driving and endangerment...a misdameanor or a felony, I'm not sure which)! All things considered, I got off pretty easy...and learned a valuable lesson.

An interesting thing happened on my way out of the courthouse. I came out with a group of people, and noticed that I was the only one dressed up in the bunch. I was amazed at how many people showed up in grungy clothes for something important like a court hearing! While walking towards my mother-in-law (who had kindly driven over with the boys and I and was babysitting them while I was inside), a young gal came up and asked me for help. Apparently she'd gotten dropped off at the wrong courthouse (there are two in that area, the older one being used for certain types of cases), and needed to be at the old courthouse within minutes to make a very important custody hearing. She didn't find out until she went inside, and they told her she was at the wrong one. You can imagine her panic, especially when she'd been dropped off there, and was stranded!

My heart went out to her, and when I patted her shoulder, she burst into tears, "I'm supposed to be over at the other one in 10 minutes or I might lose custody of my kids *tears and sobs*!" She was crying. "Please, I'll pay you to take me..." I could hear the desperation in her voice, and my heart just broke for her, thinking of what life would be like were I in her shoes. The terror. And to have inadvertently ended up at the wrong courthouse on such an important day!

Naturally, my mother-in-law was all for helping the poor gal, and we took her over there immediately. On the way over, she was still tearful, and very nervous about appearing before the judge. She also told a little about her story, and how after she had admitted herself to rehab a couple of months earlier, her ex was arrested on a $100,000 warrant for domestic violence, and imprisoned. The children were put into foster care with various relatives. She was now out, and clean, and desperate to get her kids back. I do believe that for this poor gal it was a major wake-up call. We prayed with her on the way over, and tried our best to encourage her in the short time we had with her. Turns out she's a backslidden Christian who has had some major struggles in her young life. Three kids caught in the middle of it with her. We didn't get much information about her in the short time we were with her, but we'll be praying for Tawnya and her 3 kids for quite some time. And we're hopeful that someone from her former church in that area might be able to help her as well.

:: ::

My mom mentioned in my comments to yesterday's posting that I never gave her the kind of trouble as a toddler that Judah gives me...which got me thinking that perhaps what Jeff did as a kid is what is coming back in spades! Somehing I'd never thought about before, lol. I feel rather vindicated! We'll have to see how Jeff feels about this...

Terrible Two Haiku

Okay, so I know I'm in for it now. All those things I did to give my own mom grief when I was a toddler? Coming back in spades. Judah is almost two. The kid just doesn't stop. I was telling my mother-in-law the other day that even when I had two toddlers in the house every day (back when Jericho was a toddler, I babysat his cousin Kody full-time during the week), with a pool in our backyard, I didn't worry like I do with Judah by himself! With those two, I could at least busy them with something for a while and actually have some down-time. Plus, they enjoyed watching videos.

Judah likes destroying videos by throwing them on the hard floor or pulling out the tape. With Judah, even when he's sitting down, he's fidgeting. Gearing up to go again. Planning and plotting his next move. And he moves so fast, hard as I try, I can't always keep up with where he is. And if it gets quiet? Oh, boy...then I know there will be a big mess.

Like yesterday, when I was emptying the silverware tray from the dishwasher and heard the silence grow loud. Any mother of a toddler knows exactly what I mean. I found him in our hallway. Without his diaper on. And there was a reason he had taken it off. Which required not only a good soaking in the bath for him, but a good steam cleaning of the entire hallway carpet and a good part of his bedroom floor.

Oh, those terrible, terrible twos! Here was my first Haiku of the day:

Oh little one of
innocent face, must I baby
proof the whole house?

I've got cupboard doors secured with these loopy things that zip shut like cable ties (which almost need an instruction manual to open up again), and those plastic doorknob covers on nearly all my doors (which is really fun when you've got a load of laundry needing to go into the laundry room). I actually invested in a bunch of these while visiting my mom in Washington earlier this summer. It was necessary if I was to get any sleep at all without worrying about Judah escaping his pack-and-play while everyone was sleeping, and wandering through her non-childproofed home by the light of the moon (the dark doesn't deter him, either). With slippery hardwood floors. With two flights of steep stairs. Inviting antique crystal doorknobs at lower than usual height. Glass coffee table on which to slam down his toys. Electronic gadgets galore with fun buttons to push. And did I mention the steps?

With this kid, we have to have first, second and third lines of defense in place. Which is why I shriek like a fishwife about keeping the lid to the toilet shut behind the closed door with the doorknob cover on it. It's a safety precaution. Then there are the baby gates that are semi-permanent installations around our house. The one in the kitchen doorway is almost too high for Jeff and I to step over, but is what allows me restful sleep at night. After checking the door locks, I always check to be certain this thing is in place, because in spite of trying everything I can to deter him from ever getting the idea in the first place, Judah is getting to where he's about ready to climb out of his crib, and the thought of him getting out for an unattended midnight expedition terrifies me. Especially since he knows how to open the fridge. And loves getting into my craft supply storage units and gleefully stamping all my colored ink pads and spilling my colorful embossing powders all over the floor.

Jericho's bedroom also has a permanent baby gate in the doorway, because it's just easier to keep Judah out, than to keep after Jericho to keep all the millions of legos up off his floor. The way Judah puts things into his mouth, it just gives me some peace of mind knowing that at least I won't have to have to worry about an ER trip for x-rays to determine how many legos to watch for.

Who knew a home could be so dangerous to a baby? And that moms could lose so much sleep worrying about such things? I used to worry about things like inflation and terrorism. Now I worry about my toddler getting stuck in the fridge, eating things that are inedible or falling headfirst into the toilet.

We recently had to rearrange our entire living area, putting our dining room table in the kitchen to keep him from pushing the chairs to the counters and circumventing the baby gate again.

Yes, again. He did this a couple of times before we were finally forced to do something drastic about it. Once popping up like a Jack-in-the-box from my kitchen sink, and the other time, climbing up onto our highest counter top, perching precariously at the cliff's edge while double-fisting the brownies he found in the cookie Jar up there into his mouth. That was one of those slow-mo mother's dashes to the counter to grab him before he fell off. Somehow I managed to get there in time. Personally, I think the Lord equipped moms with extra adrenaline which he triggers at moments like that, which has the same effect that anger has on the Incredible Hulk...the ability to break off the concrete that feels like it encases your feet at moments like those. And all that happened in the time it took me to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer.

Jericho just called to me as I'm typing, "Mom? Make him stop! He's messing up my bedroom!" I turned around to see how such a thing could be possible with the baby gate in his doorway. Judah was hefting toys over the baby gate then running for his toybox for more! Again, like Dash from The Incredibles. And by the time I caught on, there was already a growing pile on Jericho's floor.

Dashing to grab toys
to throw in brother's room won't
entice him to play

It couldn't have been the one solitary bite of my Fluffernutter sandwich Judah wheedled out of me at breakfast, now, could it? That stuff is like Popeye's spinach to Judah. If only it were the same for me!

:: ::

I've got a wedding cake to bake for a friend's reception this coming weekend. I've had a couple of false starts trying to get the baking part done. I turn on the oven, get everything out to get started, and realize I don't have enough eggs on hand for the entire project. Or that the house still smells like dinner. I don't want the guests biting into the white cake with strawberry filling and saying, "Hmmm...interesting flavor...strawberry with a hint of ground beef and onion."

So I'm going to have to break down and bake in the heat of the day, to have them in the freezer before cooking dinner tonight. Either that or go out to dinner (which is an even better idea). I've got the Air Conditioner on a lower temperature setting than usual, and a fan on the counter which I will aim at myself while baking. It's supposed to get up to 105 degrees today. But it's either that, or stay up way late tonight to do the baking when it's cooler, which won't work, because I've got a court appearance tomorrow for my speeding ticket.

Yes, the one I got when I was not even two hours from home on a long road trip headed for my sister's wedding in a rental minivan earlier this summer. I was dictating directions to Jericho (via the rear view mirror) as to what to get his little brother from the cooler to stop his wailing in the car seat. When I flipped down the mirror, I saw the flashing lights. And the officer had apparently been there a while. Was it too much to ask that my toddler still be crying when the man came to my window? To elicit pity, so that he might issue me a warning instead of a ticket? But nooooo...he was so fascinated by the whole ordeal that he immediately stopped, and stared, and when the policeman finally handed me my ticket and left the window, Judah even called out, "Buh-bye!" and waved.

:: ::

At a Missions fundraiser dinner at church Sunday evening, Judah was playing catch with his little buddies, the McKoy twins, when he took a header into the concrete and scored his first busted up lip. Throughout the dinner, it swelled up and was red enough that Sunday night that I didn't sleep much, worrying it had somehow gotten infected. Because I was helping with the dinner, I didn't find out until an hour or two after the fact, and so wasn't able to clean the wound to my satisfaction at the onset.

Jeff was hospitalized a few summers ago for a horrible infection resulting from a cut on his forehead at work that became infected and really red, and crept towards the ominous 'Triangle of Death' (the triangle formed by your eyes and nose) . The ER doctor told us back then that if we'd waited, even a couple of hours to get him in, he might have died, as the infection could have gone straight to his brain.

Well, call me neurotic, but if I see any redness around a cut or wound, especially on the kids, I freak. Judah's was so near that triangle of death, that the poor kid got swabbed with peroxide, and antibiotic ointment when we got home that night, and a couple of times since. He's also been pumped full of echinacea and vitamin C. Thank the Lord, however, he seems to be just fine.

He's smiling and chipper about it now, and (if you have a weak stomach you may wish to skip the next couple of sentences), but a scab took forever to fully form. He kept compulsively licking the wound. Which prompted another Haiku.

Please do not lick sore
so conveniently near tongue,
scab must form to heal.

Which necessitated not letting him sleep with his Binky last night, so it would have a chance to scab over once and for all. The picture above is the result. As my friend Chrissy would say sincerely (while laughing), "That is so sa-ha-ha-ha-had!"

My husband, of course, is all proud of Judah's battle scar, thinking it makes him look tough. According to him, this is all par for the course for boys.

Do not worry, mom,
wounds and scabs will turn to scars
son will brag about.

Boys are apparently supposed to get wounded so they can have cool scabs and scars to brag about with their friends when they are older. Silly me. Next time I think I may let Jeff stay up all night checking to be sure there is no life-threatening infection.

And I think I need a nap today to make up for all that lost sleep. That is, if I can manage it before I get my baking started.

This and that

Judah, reading his favorite book, Babies, by Gyo Fujikawa. There is this page in the book that has some fun illustrations of naughty babies fighting over a toy, and spilling milk, and tearing pages out of a book. We always say, "Naughty, naughty, naughty" about those things when we read the book to him, and now he's morbidly fascinated with that page and seeing other babies doing naughty things.

Jericho, pointing to the sign behind him that reads "Jericho Lane". He wasn't too excited that I'd wakened him from a nap on our long road trip a few weeks back to climb out of the car and get a picture in front of a silly roadsign, but it's not everyday that a kid named Jericho can get his picture taken in front of a sign bearing his name!

High-tech communications

I woke with our toddler Judah this morning at 8:45. We came out to the living area to find that Jeff was already gone, but our older son Jericho was up and getting ready for the day. Being Saturday, I was a little surprised by this. But judging from the yellow pages on the counter which were opened to auto part store numbers, I knew exactly where Jeff had gone.

That our car has not been able to pass smog has been a great source of irritation to us. For my husband, it's because he is sick and tired of having to spend his Saturdays working on the darn thing. For me, it's the injustice of the smog emissions testing stations, equipped with all that high-tech machinery that is supposed to detect pollutants that are contributing to the smog problem here in the Southwest, yet have allowed city buses, big rigs and millions of other vehicles, SUV's and work trucks to pass and get back on the roads while belching out clouds of pollution at every stoplight...while our little economy car continues to 'fail' the test.

Now I'm no scientific expert, but I do have asthma, and I have driven behind that car no less than four times in the last two months (while following my husband across town to various car repair places and the smog testing station) and not once has it ever triggered an asthma attack. Nor is there a black plume of exhaust coming out of the tailpipe every time the light turns green. And did I mention that I'm following behind that car in our truck which has no air conditioning with both windows down? And no asthma?

Yet we continue to see school and city buses and numerous other vehicles with current tabs on the license plates (indicating that they've somehow managed to pass smog) on our roads. The same vehicles that cause my lungs to grow instantly fuzzy and tight just breathing the air in the same vicinity, and are basically asthma-attacks-waiting-to-happen. And I won't even go into how annoying and rude I find it that pickup-trucks-on-steroids usually end up with their tailpipes aimed squarely into the windows of our vehicle. It's gotten to where I don't bother to venture out much during the busy traffic hours of the day anymore. I enjoy being able to breathe, thank you very much.

We've had cars in the past that induced asthma attacks (and passed smog, mind you) which we were forced to get rid of for that reason, because it just wasn't worth having to use an inhaler every four hours and sleep propped up every night with aching lungs. But I can drive our little car, and even idle in it with the windows down, and not worry one iota about breathing troubles that night. Yet it continues to fail smog testing, for the same smog that is largely responsible for asthma in our area? Go figure.

So this morning, my husband text messages me from the auto parts store: Get off the phone.

Actually, I wasn't on the phone, I was on the computer (typing up an e-mail for him, no less) which often ties up our land line. Our cell phones have always served as our 'second line', which would have worked just fine if my husband had his cell-phone with him, but he had mine. That is because mine is the only one that currently works properly, having been kept in the relative safety of the special pocket on the side of my purse.

My husband made the mistake of letting our toddler play with his cell phone a few weeks ago, and it's not worked right since. Sucking on the end where the charger plugs into the phone is apparently not good for cell phones. It's now permanently stuck on something called "Car Kit", which no amount of cleaning with a toothbrush has been able to fix. It also renders the cell phone useless for anything except text-messaging. The ringing and beeping sounds, even the vibrate feature are useless on his phone, and you can't hear out of or talk into it. Which means that one has to check the display screen frequently to see if anyone has left a text message. (Oh, now isn't that handy? We might as well just go back to the days of smoke-signals!)

So Jeff had my cell phone with him while running his frustrating car-repair errands this morning, and became annoyed with me when I didn't think to look on his cell phone for the text message to get off the phone. Which was really the computer. Which I turned on in the first place to type his e-mail for him.

When he wasn't home by around 10:00am, I went for my cell phone to text him and find out where he was. It was gone. I looked on the kitchen counter and saw his phone there, and when I checked, found the above text message. It was an hour old. I knew he was going to be ticked. In this era of cell-phone technology, one should, in theory, be able to get through to someone else almost instantly. And once you've acquired a taste for (er, become dependent upon) such things, one gets easily annoyed when this does not work as it should.

So I log off and call him at my cell phone number. "Hey--"

"It's really irritating when I can't get through on the phone line!" he says curtly, and hangs up. Oh, he was ticked all right.

I call back, but can't get a word in edgewise, as he's repeating his earlier response. He hangs up again.

I try back one more time only to be greeted by the same thing. This time I hang up. Now I'm ticked. So I text him at my phone. What is irritating is that in the age of cell phone technology, we are so ghetto that we have to resort to text messaging each other because TALKING between phones doesn't work! And I notice that it is your cell phone that is responsible for this inconvenience. I press send, and can't believe we just had an argument by text-message. Or that I went and opened my big mouth (make that jumped all over his case) by text message.

I feel bad. He didn't need that. He's trying to rescue me from the headache of needing to drive him to work each morning so I have a car to use each day during the school year. As for our stupid phone situation, it is a problem easily remedied. It involves a simple trip to the phone store to get a replacement. But that is one of those many little errands that I would normally take care of during the week if I had a car at my disposal. Getting up early to drive him to work so we can have the car for said errand during summer vacation is not on my list of priorities right now. Not when it's 100 degrees outside and there is no A.C. in our 'good' vehicle.

My husband returns home, and neither of us say anything. Least said, soonest mended.

He rustles around in the garage again, and after a while, I hear the car starting up. He comes in triumphant. He was able to replace the radiator all on his own, and is now en route to another repair place to take care of the catalytic converter. We've been advised by those knowing more about cars than we do that this should do the trick. It should finally pass smog. The car is practically new inside after all the repairs that have been made over the past couple months. Which means I will finally have my truck back during the day again. And can finally get the bum cell-phone replaced.

Jeff texts me from the smog-station. The car passed smog. Praise the Lord for that!

I reply back, Jeff? You're my hero. Who needs a knight in shining armor, anyway...give me a man who will doggedly work to keep our paid-off car limping along for another year ANY day! You da man!

Monkey See, Monkey Do (those are dominoes)

Little brother wants to do everything big brother does.

A toast-in-the-VCR kind of day

Ever have those days where you feel like you've lived an entire day's worth of events in just a few hours...and you roll your eyes wearily when you glance at the clock and it's not even noon yet?

That's kind of how today is shaping up for me. Because it's still summer vacation for our older son, Jericho, we've been sleeping in around here. Well, I should say that Jericho gets to sleep in late, and that's only because he's 11, and could sleep through a train rumbling through his bedroom. My alarm goes off about 8 am every morning, calling from the crib in his bedroom, "Mama? Maaaaaama?" over and over until I finally get up to get him.

So there I was blissfully enjoying my dreams, when suddenly a little finger poked my eye.

"Mama? I want foo" Judah said.

"Shhh. Mama sleeping" I mumbled, remembering vaguely that he ended up in our room after prolonged crying in the night. Which also explained the crick in my neck.

After a couple of companatory whimpering sounds, I hear once again, "Foo, mama."

I ignored him.

He lifted my eyelid.

I exhaled wearily but couldn't help but to chuckle. He's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, raring to go while I laze about in bed. It must be well after 9am, I think as I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up while prying my other eyelid open.

"Are you hungry or something, Judah-boo?"

He nods enthusiastically, gathering up his blankies to climb down off my bed. I glance at the alarm clock. 8:20.

At least I'd gotten 20 minutes more sleep than yesterday. I rub my eyes in the way grandma always said not to lest I get wrinkles (and I'm beginning to think she was onto something with that advice) and haul my carcass out of bed.

Remembering I'd picked up the fixings for "Fluffernutter" sandwiches on the way home from church last night, I scooped up Judah and headed for the kitchen. It was time to try them at last.
On the way out of my room, Judah leaned to get right into my line of vision, "Foo, mama?" he asked around his Binky. I remind myself that we need to wean him from the Binky soon. That and finally get him potty-trained.

"Yeah, buddy. We've got some food. And I think you're gonna love it."

I would not normally advocate having marshmallow creme-peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast, but I justified it being that I was putting it on 100% whole wheat bread and the other ingredient was organic peanut butter. I mean, how much worse could it be for you than a PBJ? I even used a cookie cutter to remove the crusts for the full effect (;-) Jenster and Katybug), and after strapping Judah into his high chair went to get the camera to document the event.

It's harder than you might think spreading marshmallow creme on bread. That could be because I had to use Kraft brand instead of the more authentic Fluff brand that is used out East, but I'm thinking it had more to do with the stuff ending up in the fridge when the groceries got put away last night. After it thawed sufficiently, and the peanut butter was added to it, it swirled quite nicely on the bread. Behold, the fluffernutter sandwich (see picture).

Judah looked at the finished sandwich skeptically, when I placed it in front of him. Probably because he usually gets sandwiches for lunch, not breakfast. "Try it, boo-boo" I prompted. "It's yummy."

Well, he did, and he liked it. A lot. He also enjoyed fingerpainting with the sticky ooze that fell on his high-chair tray in the process. It's amazing how much square footage one scant teaspoon of marshmallow creme can cover. When all was said and done, I don't think anything within his reach was unscathed. His hair, his face, his entire high chair (even the part behind him). Sticky, sticky stuff. But judging by the fact he didn't leave a bite, I'm guessing he liked it. As did I.

Unfortunately, giving my almost-two-year old that much sugar for breakfast was like giving him control of an outboard motor. He's been on full-throttle since, surging from one thing to another, leaving more than the usual messes in his wake. In the five minutes it took for me to clean off his high chair, he had already gotten into my camera bag (which I'd accidentally left unlatched in it's drawer), removed the video camera, then the lens cap and covered the lens with tiny fingerprints. Miraculously the area in which he did this was well-padded, so there was no harm done.

So while I'm cleaning the video camera lens, I see him reaching for my camera which was still sitting out on my desk from earlier. "No!" I hollered, and ran to rescue the camera just in the nick of time.

In putting my cameras safely away, I bent back a fingernail. Ouch! I then went about straightening up the kitchen and switching over the laundry my husband had tossed in before leaving for work.

Usually, setting Judah up in front of the TV to watch Charlotte's Web gives me a few minutes to get my housework started. But when I brought the load of clothes to the couch to fold, I found him trying to plug the vacuum cord into the nearby outlet.

"No, NO!" I said, yelling and clapping loudly to distract him sufficiently until I could get across the living room to him. "Danger!"

So I moved the TV stand so that it blocked that outlet and woke up big brother to get his chores done. While waiting for him to report for duty, I began to look for the DVD we were supposed to take back this morning, and finally located it in the VCR slot (where I've learned to look for lots of things since big brother's stunt with the toast at about age two). It didn't take a detective to figure out who the culprit was. Little fingerprints were all over it.

Turning around from extracting the DVD from the VCR slot, I find toys all over the place that weren't there even a minute ago. The kid moves like Dash from The Incredibles, assisted by the surge of sugar in his bloodstream, no doubt. The laundry I'd just put on the couch not two minutes before was already all over the floor where he was rolling in it like autumn leaves. It was a disheartening mess, especially when the next task on my list was to vacuum.

Why is it that every chore a person needs to do with children in the home is dependant upon another chore getting done first?

So I'm barking like a drill sergeant at my older son to get his chores done (sorting laundry, feeding the dog) so that I can get more laundry going, while I'm picking up all the strewn about laundry.

Judah apparently thinks it's clean-up time, and begins to 'help' by putting toys on a shelf and pushing my glass picture frames to the back where it sounds suspiciously like they broke.
Seeing his sandals on the other couch, I ask him to put all the shoes in the front closet.
While I straighten the shelf with the picture frames (amazingly still intact) , he dutifully puts all the shoes away. All except his little pair of sandals, which he very carefully stowed beneath the sofa next to my tennis shoes. I find this when I pass by on my way to his toybox with an armload of toys, and my heart immediately melts.

"Awwww" I exclaim, and after putting away the toys, I get out the camera and take a picture.

When I turn around, I find that he's turned off my computer (which in between my tasks I'd turned on, signed onto my ISP and then signed on to update this blog step-by-laborious step, being dial-up) and was now playing with my cell-phone.

I broke a different fingernail off below the quick trying secure the camera back into it's bag. It's bleeding. I think it's time I just gave up on my nails for a while. There will be plenty of time for that once Judah graduates from high school.

Slow down...come back to the dinner table!

The above picture has nothing whatsoever to do with my post. It's purely for cute value. My son spotted these cute kitties on the neighbors truck tire one sunny morning last spring.

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I generally don't mind making decisions. It's the times I'm forced to make instantaneous ones where I get thrown for a loop. The screen that pops up on my computer when I didn't properly log off the last time tells me to press f1 or f2, and there is this countdown number in the corner that is already to about 6 or 5 by the time I see it, and though this has happened a thousand times before, under pressure, I panic. I just stab at one, and hope it's the right one. And if I crash, I crash. Thankfully nothing serious has ever resulted from my choice one way or another where my computer is concerned. Yet I still fret every time I have to make that choice. It's like I build things like this up in my mind to ridiculous proportions, "Solving the crisis in Iraq is dependant upon your choosing the right button now!"

The same sort of thing happens when you get in line at Costco. You push your loaded cart to the front of the store, you scope out the lane situation, but then you notice a mass of carts coming up the main aisle behind you, and more coming in from the other main aisle to the left, and your palms begin to sweat, your heart rate increases...and then you see the small business owner with two loaded carts headed into the one suitable lane choice, and you don't want to get stuck behind him. You're forced to choose one of the other lanes and hope for the best, because (at least in our area) the place is always so packed that there is no room for error. No room to accommodate lane do-overs. Once you choose a lane, you're committed, and you'd better hope you remembered everything on your list, because there is no getting out of line for a forgotten item.

We were in WalMart a couple of nights ago, and even though it's now open 24 hours a day in our area, it was still packed at 10 pm. Jam-packed. And the weary cashier told me that it's like that even at 2 am! Shopping (and finding a parking space) at that bastion of commercialism is always an adventure. I often end up in aisles I don't need or want to be in, and that I couldn't very well turn around in because everything is wedged so tightly into the store. In actuality, I knew I was in the right area for the aisle I needed, but got momentarily distracted and when I glanced down the main thoroughfare, I noticed a train of carts headed my direction, with a couple other carts nipping at my heels.

In my minds eye, the last grains of sand were about to slip into the bottom of the hourglass, and I was forced to choose in that moment whether to stay the course or make an exit. Even in turning, when I realized it was the wrong aisle, it was too late. I was already committed. To stop and back-up would disrupt the flow of traffic in the entire store, and perhaps set off someones hair-trigger temper, so I kept turning, made my way down past the men's shaving products, took a left around the end cap and down the next aisle, where I was forced to stop at the intersection until I could once again re-enter traffic.

When I shop there, it always feels like I'm one of the sliding tiles in one of those little plastic puzzles where one tile is missing. There is no time for stalling in a WalMart. No margin for error. You must make decisions and execute them with precision and speed, because there are people waiting their turn to be where you are. To form their happy face, falling prices logo on that tile puzzle, I must do my part.

It's surprising to me that they haven't yet brought in scaled down versions of city traffic lights for stores like Costco and WalMart to assist with the flow of traffic. At the very least, they could hire a few extra greeters and equip them with those glowing flashlight thingies they use at airports to guide the planes into the gates. But alas, even if such measures were in place, there would still be those determined, impatient types that would bodily move their carts where they wanted to go when they wanted to go, daring anyone to question his decision, even the greeters that came running up to scold him for disobeying traffic flow model. But I have to ask myself, why is any of this even necessary in our country?

No doubt every country has it's traffic problems in the big cities. That's just a given. You cram millions of people onto one small piece of real estate, and there are going to be congestion problems. Coming out of any stadium after a game or a concert or a school function is testimony to this. It takes a while for the crowds to thin out. But do people in high-density African or Mid-Eastern marketplaces feel the same pressure to make these types of hasty decisions like I do in WalMart or Costco? Impatient people complaining in long lines at the falafel stand, "Hire more workers!" or "Oh dear, I ended up in the Camel Bridle section, when what I really needed was a new rug". In some sleepy little rural Mexican village, do people get impatient and demand, "Quick, I need a bowl of Ceviche to go!" Somehow, I don't think so. They haven't yet sacrificed their slower pace of life on the altar of the almighty dollar.


I think this sort of pressure to make quick decisions is a side-effect of the commercialized, fast paced Western world we now live in. Driving home from work in the U.S. is called the evening rush hour. There are 'fast' food places on every corner to accommodate those people that need to eat on the run. And drive-through lanes at banks and pharmacies. Even coffee, which takes just a couple of minutes to make at home, now has established a corner of the marketplace with drive throughs to get a quick, as-you-like-it coffee beverage on the go (not that I'm complaining, I'm just saying...). We want what we want quickly. On our terms. Entitlement mentality, they're calling it now.


It's like our society no longer has time for things like common courtesy. I walked into a fast food restaurant behind a young man of about 15 a couple years ago, and was stunned when he didn't even hold the door for the ungainly pregnant woman behind him (me), but just let it close in my face just as I reached the door. And don't get me started on how nobody has time to sit down to a decent meal anymore. Or why neighbors of today barely even take the time to get to know each other by name.

In our mad dash to succeed in this modern-day rat-race, and in spite of what we believe to be our prowess on the national scene, we've lost sight of something very vital to our success, indeed the very backbone of what made this nation great to begin with: family values.

We have begun to settle for doing things that really matter in an inferior way. As a nation, the United States is comparatively young on the world scene. It's also a melting pot of numerous other cultures. Some areas within our borders are more fast-paced than others. But like a naive teenager, we as a nation seem to think we have the world by the tail. We've forsaken the more leisurely pace of life that our ancestors from other lands enjoyed. Long meals where families came together to connect daily. No, we Americans think that we've found the best ways of doing things across the board, and just plow ahead doing things in those ways. Industry standards and efficiency are good for corporate business and industry, but when applied in a family setting, things become rather clinical and routine. Sterile. Devoid of the warm-fuzzies that should constitute family life.

These days, we go everywhere by car. We park in designated areas. We drive home each evening, open our garages, park, and close the garage door on our neighborhood, instead holing away in front of our electronic devices and screens. Some kids are even text-messaged by their tired parents to "take out the trash" or IM'd to "Get off the computer and get on your homework." We delude ourselves into thinking that because we're all home, we're having "family" time. But what it really amounts to is a pseudo-family time, with very little meaningful interaction between parents and children. It's gotten to where family life for some is almost robotic.

Instead of being hospitable and always having room for an extra, last-minute guest at our tables as our grandmothers did, we shut ourselves off from valuable interaction with our families and friends by eating on the go. Scarfing down a burger in the car while the kids watch a movie on their in-car viewing screens in the back, instead of truly connecting with loved ones over a dinner table. Not only does our nutritional intake and health suffer greatly, but, like Pavlov's dogs who were conditioned to salivate at the ringing of a bell, our children are growing up to salivate at the sight of fast food logos. No longer do the tantalizing scents of dinner wafting through the house or yard entice children inside for dinner. Many kids of working parents today can't think of a 'favorite meal' their parents cook. Today, when a parent says, "Come on kids, it's dinner time", there is a mad dash to put on shoes and head for the car.

We're allowing something wonderful and vital to just slip away from us. And if it goes on long enough, our children will never know any different, and may go on to do even less for their own children.

What is wrong with this picture? In this modern age, we've gotten from the Biblical model for family life. In Bible times, reclining around a low table for a long, leisurely meal was the norm. It was a time to relax, to enjoy food, family and fellowship. People developed strong relationships over meals. Their digestion was also probably much better.

Families today have become far too goal-oriented, and are rush-rush-rushing so much, they barely have time to stop and smell their dinner cooking as they walk through the front door. Anymore, there are rigorous schedules that must be adhered to, even if it means that poor mom and dad don't even get to sit down and relax after a hectic day at work, but have to drive kids all over town for soccer practice and dance lessons. Not that kids activities are bad, but there does come a point where it's excessive and seriously out of balance. Where it interferes with everything that a real family is about. When husbands and wives begin passing like ships in the night, with barely the time to say "hi", much less connect in meaningful ways, or meet the many needs of their children for parental interaction in their lives, things have gotten out of control.


You may have heard it said, "As goes the family, so goes the nation". It is the parents job to instill in and equip their children with all they need to become God-fearing, contributing and productive members of society. But when parents become so concerned with all the other trappings of life in America, their family suffers.

It's time that parents begin taking back control of their lives, instead of letting their busy, hectic lives control them. It's time parents began limiting how many extra activities each of their children do in a year for the well-being of the family. Is it really necessary for a child to play a different sport every season? And are we requiring good grades in order for them to participate in those sports? Are we requiring our children to help out with things around the house so that it doesn't all fall to mom, and have them leave home one day not knowing how to do anything for themselves?

It's time parents began delegating responsibilities to their kids, and then keeping after them to uphold them. To keep tabs of what their children are doing with their free time. Kids need parents to help guide them in making positive, good choices. That's why God didn't give us the ability to create other adult children from our ribs, but instead equipped us with babies to love and nurture and train up into responsible, God-fearing adults over time. He wanted for us to invest in them, because we learn right along with them.

How is this to be done when we're so busy? So goal-oriented?

It's a matter of priorities. Parents must have their priorities straight. We know from scripture that God values marriage and family. Jobs are important in that they bring in the income necessary to provide for our families. They are merely a means to an end, yet we often place those jobs ahead of our spouses and families in importance. Sometimes we are so busy trying to provide, that we forget about who it is we're trying to provide for.


Husbands and wives need to make time for each other. To really connect. Then they need to set time each day to really connect with their families. If at no other time of the day, families should carve out time to come the dinner table together. It should be the one, relaxing time of day where there is no pressure to rush off to other things, but where everyone gets their chance to talk and enjoy each other's company. Where values and Spiritual concepts are modeled and passed on to children. We should purpose to have a hearty, leisurely and satisfying meal at our tables, with the whole family present. Asking a blessing, having discussion made on various topics, questions asked and answered, food passed, manners impressed upon children, examples modeled by the parents, and relationships strengthened. Some folks even go so far as to have a short family devotion after the meal.

And I say this just as much for myself as for anyone else. Making a family dinner a priority each evening addresses a number of needs within a family. It's not always going to be easy to get a meal on the table each night, or to get everyone together at once for that meal, but anything worth having is worth working for. Our families are among our greatest blessings from the Lord, and we're missing out on those blessings when we allow other things to come first, or we get lazy and grab something on the go.

On the Life of a Celebrity

The first picture was taken in Lake Tahoe last summer. Jericho yelled from across the room at the nature center, "Hey mom! Raise the Hoof!"

Poor little Judah will probably cringe when looking through his scrapbooks, because we've taken so many goofy pictures of him as a toddler. But this binky one was too cute to resist. We got a lot of laughs while we were out and about. Little old men chuckling, that sort of thing. Fun stuff.

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Yesterday during our Sunday School fellowship, Judah said one of his first, clear sentences. "Where my donut?" He promptly made his way to the table and took one for each hand. Lol. His idea of takeaway value in Sunday School varies quite drastically from ours.

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On the Life of a Celebrity

The headline on my homepage's entertainment section last night read, "Nicole Kidman bombs with Invasion."

I know nothing about her latest movie project, but I can't help but to feel a little sorry for her these past couple of years. While I know she went into this profession with her eyes wide open, to be under such scrutiny by the general public all the time, to have her life's successes and failures splashed regularly across the news media, and to have millions of people believe the reports no matter how much of it is true or false would take a very thick-skinned woman to just pick up and keep going. Seeing headlines that misrepresented the real me, or portrayed me in an unfavorable way would make me bawl my eyes out everytime.

But I have to admire her grit. For international discussion to be made about her failed first marriage, speculation to be made about her second marriage, discussion as to who got the raw deal in her divorce from Tom, and whether or not it was her inability to conceive that drove Tom away, or her inability to please Keith that sent him to rehab for drug or alcohol dependency has to be deeply hurtful. Like salt on open wounds. Just because she is a celebrity does not mean that she doesn't still have feelings. I don't envy her one bit. Her fame has brought with it a fair amount of heartache.

Could you imagine if every time you were out in a public place, every nuance, expression or tone of your voice was being recorded by paparazzi, sensationalized and relayed instantly to some broadcaster who will have it on the airwaves or in print in less than 24 hours, most likely not in it's original context? How about every fight with your husband being laid out for the world to see, and custody issues being aired like dirty laundry, growing even uglier than ever due to what the tabloids are saying about it?

And what of every ounce you gain or lose being documented and recorded for posterity, to be printed in the tabloids at every opportunity, no matter how old the photo? It's like those bad angle or swimsuit shots, the sans make-up, mid-bite or blinking shots that most of us toss when we get our pictures back, all surfacing at once on national TV. And the paparazzi prowl like wolves after babies are born, trying to find a really unflattering shot of the postpartum flab.

Not to mention every poor dating decision you ever made, even the inconsequential one-time or blind dates that you'd forgotten about suddenly bubbling up to the surface because some obscure 'ex' did a tell-all interview with some gossip columnist.

It just never ends for them. No wonder they shell out mega bucks for their bevy of stylists and consultants who advise them on everything from dental care to cosmetic surgery, physical fitness, hair styles, nails, wardrobe, appropriate car choices, landscapers and other experts that help to improve the curb appeal of their homes, lest somebody find them somehow lacking, and single them out of the crowd for a public flaying. Being dissected in the public eye is never pretty. The dirt comes out.

It's not surprising then that with this sort of pressure upon them all the time, many celebrities are driven to eating disorders, or to get nipped and tucked to the enth degree, or develop such bad anxiety that they have no appetite and waste away to nothingness. You've probably heard the stories about the supermodels that were deprived of all food except lettuce and maybe a couple of jars of baby food, lest a single ounce be added to their flesh in order to keep their careers. What would life be like without the ability to join friends or family for a nice meal?

I imagine that for a celebrity, it's something of a love-hate relationship they have with Hollywood. Naturally, they enjoy the notoriety, the opportunities that didn't exist before, the higher standard of living and all the other trappings that come with fame. On the other side of the coin, however, they must loathe the negative publicity. The cameras always in their faces. The scrutiny. The hype. The paparazzi that take pictures with their telephoto lessons through their home windows, the psychotic fans that break into their homes and sleep outside their garage doors hoping for a glimpse of them. Theirs is a life in a fishbowl.

Then there is the pressure to stay at the top of their game, lest they end up on the don't fashion lists, or among the has-beens and one-hit wonders that end up in the 'Where are they now' features. It has to be absolutely exhausting. Wearing. Wearying. Jennifer Lopez was recently quoted as saying, "I wake up every day and worry that it all might end; you just never know in this industry...but it is this that motivates me to just keep working harder..." The bigger your fame, it seems, the bigger your worries. While regular folks may worry about making ends meet, in spite of their material success, it's still a fight to 'survive' in a dog-eat-dog world.

Give me the anonymity of a Middle-American housewife any day! I'm happy to say that I can safely indulge in my once-monthly trip to Cheesecake Factory without worry, and savor every bite of my Godiva Triple Chocolate cheesecake without a giant picture of my swimsuit-clad cellulite and an inset of me shoveling bite after rapturous bite into my mouth highlighted shamefully in the tabloids.

There are some lessons to be learned from all this for the follower of Christ. We, too, should be concerned about how others perceive us, not because we don't want to be embarrassed or ashamed, but because we are ambassadors for Christ! We need to take every precaution to ensure that our daily lives reflect Him from minute to minute in all that we do. It means thinking about each and every decision we make in light of how it could affect our testimony in this world. Are we credible witnesses for Him, or hypocrites? Are we phonies, or do our lives just exude and spill the love of Christ out into all those we come into contact with?

In the same way that a celebrity must always be conscious of their appearance because their careers could depend upon it, a Christian must be conscious of their witness, because the Salvation of others could depend upon it.

A celebrity has to stay 'visible' if they are to continue getting the big roles. Likewise, believers are to shine as cities on a hill rather than be hide-away or secret agent Christians. We're to be so devoted to our Lord that our lives reflect it. And it will set us apart from the rest of the world. I've noticed that in times of crisis, many turn to Christians for answers. But there are also the times we'll be scrutinized. Scorned. Persecuted. Rejected for our faith. Unlike Hollywood, however, the Lord will not allow us to be put to shame. And followers of Christ are rewarded in Heaven for the work we've done for Him here on earth.

Money and fame are nice, but temporal. But those things we do for the Lord will last!

My Goofy Family

These are a series of pictures we took recently for my mother-in-law's birthday card. Love the goofy glasses on Judah best. LOL, the Binky reminds me a little of Maggie from "The Simpsons".

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Just wanted to give a shout out to my friends from "Gist's house of Gab", who gave me the nudge I needed to begin blogging. Ya'll are an encouragement and blessing...besides being a blast to chat with about books! After seeing mentions on Deeanne's site of other people's blogs, I finally took the plunge myself. Thanks also to Jenster, for motivating me to get a Blog or MySpace going for our youth group at church, too, which I'm going to get to work on first thing tomorrow. I think the youth will love that, and they'll get to see all the pictures we take a whole lot quicker than when I make collages for the Youth Bulletin Board in the back of our sanctuary!

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Today I was deeply convicted during the sermon at church. Our Pastor was speaking on the passage from Matthew 6:19-21, "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Little did we know how this would be 'illustrated' by something that happened on our way out the door to church! Long story short, we have been keeping both cars parked on the driveway due to oil leakage, and when my husband stepped out on our front porch this morning, he found our garage door wide open...and it had apparently been that way all night long.

Now my husband had double-checked to see that the garage door was down and the doors between the garage and house were locked last night before bed, because he and the boys had been on a bike ride. Amazingly, nothing was stolen from the garage...which would have been a would-be thief's dream, as we had power tools in their original boxes on a chrome rack right beside the open door, basically shouting as to the contents, which would have made it very easy for someone to walk off with a lot in a short time! I'm so thankful to the Lord and how He watches over us!

Our older son was the unwitting culprit in all this. After the bike ride, he still had the remote for the garage door in the pocket of his shorts, which he'd shed on his floor last night before hopping into bed, and (we think) it somehow got pressed when he got up to get a drink of water a little later that night. (Note to self: make sure remote gets put back where it belongs after every bike ride!) We didn't find this out until after church when our son put on the same shorts from his bike ride and found it. (At least he was honest about his part in it!)

But the story doesn't end there. My husband had been up early in the morning finishing up his lesson for the Youth Group Bible study this morning, and had used that exact same verse in his lesson! In fact, when Pastor announced that passage, my husband flipped through his notebook and showed me.

Yet another one of those "Surround Sound" or "Aha!" moments where the Lord is teaching us something, and it comes at us from all angles when we're listening. It's amazing what He can do with pliable clay, isn't it? (And it sure beats being so 'set' in our ways that He has to chisel the rough edges away after the fact!) .

I believe there were a number of reasons for that reminder this morning, the obvious being that we shouldn't be putting all our energy into accumulating material gain or 'stuff' here on earth, but instead focusing our energies on diligent work for the Lord while we have the opportunity. There was a notation in my Bible when I turned to that passage this morning that said, "The only thing we take with us when we go to heaven are those souls who get saved when we share the Glorious Gospel message with them". That is what I need to occupy myself with doing in the here and now, not letting temporal things become too overly important.

Striving for fab, striving for fab.

Another point made in the sermon was that many Christian people in our Country don't want to go to heaven...yet. And it's not for noble reasons like wanting to share the Gospel with as many people as possible before we die...but because we're too busy living off the fat of the land. Too busy enjoying all the fruits of our labors (instead of bearing fruit!) In other words, we've become horribly complacent. But it was a "to be continued" sermon, so I'll have to wait until next Sunday for the next installment.

Ahh, the conviction. For a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM), it's pretty easy to shirk the responsibility we have to "go" and "tell" others, in favor of the interests of my family. Not that what I'm doing as a SAHM isn't extremely important in the lives of our children, but I do still need to get involved in those things that will open doors of oppurtunity to minister to others, be it another soccer mom or a lady in line at the grocery store, and hopefully in so doing they might come to know Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.

Am I too caught up with life in the here and now? Too concerned about success and prosperity here? How concerned am I really about sharing the Gospel with others? About being the Lord's hands and feet here on this earth, doing whatever I can to further His kingdom? To work for those imperishable rewards and crowns I'll receive in heaven one day and can then lay at my Saviors feet? Where does my treasure really lie?

Food for thought.

Got the Gist?

Welcome to all my online buddies from Deeanne's chatroom. I went ahead a posted a few pictures late last night. Didn't want to have a boring, pictureless blog in case anyone took me up on dropping by for a visit. Unfortunately, I'd never done it before, and they all ended up HUGE. (I'll have to get one of the teens from church to come over and help me figure out how to fix that).

Please feel free to post comments.

Have a blessed day!

Family Pictures

Last year's Christmas card photo of our family.

Jeff is holding Judah (now 23 months) and Jericho (11 yrs.)

An answered prayer

Today I'm praising the Lord for bringing the two missing young people back home!

When Jeff called the boy's father, he learned they had both come home on day 13. They'd apparently stayed in our area, hanging out at a friends house by day (while the friend's parents were at work), and sleeping outside somewhere at night. They are now very close-lipped about things. Disrespectful. Angry at their parents for trying to keep them apart. Telling lies. Belligerent towards authority. Determined to do what they will.

School is now in session in their area, and for now they seem content to be able to see each other everyday at school. However, the dad has learned from one of his son's friends parents that he's already talking about running away yet again. The father also has reason to believe that his son might be huffing.

Disheartening, yes. But we are not a people without hope. We serve a God that specializes in doing what to man seems impossible. He's still in the business of doing miracles today. So we'll continue to pray to that end, that the Lord would have His way in this young man (and his girlfriend's) hearts and lives. And pray that when we do see him again, the Lord might use us to once again to lovingly speak truth into his life.

Surround Sound, Full Circle

My husband had a few days of vacation, and we've all been doing some fun things together as a family these past few days, so I've not been as faithful as I would like to be with this blog. However, I've not stopped mulling things over. In fact, there are usually things the Lord is showing me that I need to ruminate about for a few days before I can fully, most precisely convey what I mean about them here. I am working on trying to cut down on the wordage in my blogs.

I've been thinking about how the Lord sometimes speaks in "Surround Sound". I've also heard of it referred to as "In Stereo" moments. In college, my husband and I referred to this same phenomenon as "Jeep" moments. Sounds silly and unrelated, I know, but this was in reference to our version of the old "Slugbug" game, only played with Jeeps, because in Minnesota during the winter, you rarely saw VW Bugs. You may remember that driving 'game' where when you'd see VW Bug and you'd hit the other person in the car playfully and say, "Slugbug!" or hit the ceiling of the car and say, "Pa-diddle". I've heard of several variations of this same game. In any case, a funny thing happens when you play that game. Suddenly, you become very aware of VW Bugs (or Jeeps) in a whole new way. You begin seeing them everywhere. And you're amazed at how many of them there are on the roads.

A similar thing happens when the Lord is trying to get your attention about something. Perhaps a sin in one's life that needs to be dealt with. Or maybe a call to prayer about something or someone specific. Or maybe a tugging to help out in a specific area of ministry or with a specific need. After that initial 'tugging' of the heart, suddenly, you become aware of all the other ways the Lord is trying to get your attention about that very same thing in your life. Not only do you read about it in the Word or your daily devotional book, but then you hear about the same thing on Christian radio (either a show, or lyrics to a song or some comment). Then, you might hear a pastor or Bible study leader speak about it within a couple of hours or days. And then you might even come across it again when talking to a friend, or reading something online, or perhaps even in a complete stranger's comment. Do you know what I'm talking about here? These "surround sound" moments are God speaking to you. It's like He's saying, "Yoo-hoo, Becky, you in there? I'm trying to tell you something here!" (I'm picturing this in a 'New Yawker' accent mix of Joe Pesci and Danny DeVito's voices...perhaps a bit sarcastic, but not angry...just insistently trying to get my attention). We have such a tendency to get so busy and distracted with our day to day lives that we don't take the time we should to truly be still and know that He is God.

I've also been thinking about that scripture from Romans 8:28...And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. I have always loved this verse, but there is a contingency thing at play here...this passage applies to believers...those who Love God.

I just love how in working things for our ultimate good, a lot of times the Lord uses difficult circumstances, hardships, trials, setbacks--whatever it takes--for our ultimate good. And how so many times, there are these amazing "God-incidences" ('God things' that surpass the possibility of being merely coincidental) that occur in our lives. Things that show us what an amazing, awesome God we serve. That show us how His plans are greater than our own, and sometimes, though we can't always see the end result...He often brings things full-circle in ways we never would have imagined.

I recently watched a DVD presentation which Steve Saint (son of Nate Saint, the martyred missionary to the Auca Indians in Ecuador) gave at the World View Conference in Branson, Missouri last year. It was not long after the movie about his father's experience "The End of the Spear" came out in select theaters, and the the associated documentary "Into the Gates of Splendor". Just like Nate Saint's biography "Jungle Pilot", both of these are excellent movies which I highly recommend seeing and perhaps even owning for personal reference. They are chock full of many vivid examples which show how our God is always at work, and that His ultimate concern is to see lives changed through Jesus Christ.

In his talk, Steve Saint took his own personal story a little 'deeper' than the movie or documentary showed. One very obvious and amazing thing about that story, was the forgiveness that was shown to that tribe, and how some of the far reaching affects of that forgiveness wouldn't even be discovered for a couple more decades. That Nate Saint's sister Rachel and Elizabeth Elliot moved in with the tribe that murdered their loved ones, in an effort to bring the Gospel to them...was mercy, forgiveness and grace in action. Talk about a difficult thing to be asked of the Lord to do!

But God intended that against the dark reality of that tribe's murderous sins, the light of God's grace would show that much more brightly, and the lives of that tribe (and countless others who heard about this monumental event) were changed. Nate's strong desire to see that tribe come to Jesus wasn't realized until after the men were martyred, but it soon became apparent that their deaths were the very thing the Lord used to eventually get through to those people living in such darkness. And it did not stop with that. The loved ones of the murdered men continued to pray and reach out to the Auca people, extending grace and forgiveness and mercy to the tribe in a tangible way that was also necessary to bring the Gospel to them.

Another thing I loved about Steve's talk in Branson was that he mentioned a more recent occurrence. One of the 5 missionaries (and I can't remember his name off the top of my head) but he had gone to college and planned to become a professor at the University of Washington. His goal was to use his 'platform' there as professor in a secular University to reach young people for Christ (Plan A). But God had other things in mind for him. Instead, he ended up moving to Ecuador (which Steve referred to as Plan B) to do Mission's work. And it was while he was there that he kept bumping into Nate Saint, who had a firm conviction, almost a Macedonian Call to reach the Auca people, a primitive, unreached people group, with the Gospel of Christ. This missionary was so persuaded, that he chose to take part in Nate's first face-to-face contact with the Auca (Plan C). And died for doing it.

To an outsider not familiar with the ways of the Lord (or the bigger-picture involved here) some might have despaired and felt that it was all for naught. That this man's efforts had been in vain. Perhaps even that all of his education and training had been wasted. But that was not the case at all. Because when God is at work in a person's life, and they draw closer to Him, their hearts begin to change. God had been moving in these men's hearts. Calling them to be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice if necessary. Their plans begin to mirror what the Lord desires and requires of them. In the movie there is a poignant scene where Nate tells his young son Steve that he is ready to die (meaning that he's saved), but these people they are trying to reach are not.

Fast forward a few decades, and Steve Saint and his family move to Ecuador to live with the Auca (now believers, "Walking God's trail") in place of Steve's Aunt Rachel who had died of cancer, but had lived with them for the rest of her life. Steve's efforts to help these people to find some means of income for their village (since exporting goods wasn't feasible with people groups living closer to civilization able to do that much more readily and with greater profit), they hit upon the idea to build a replica of the 'stone age' tribal village as it was back before Rachel Saint and Elisabeth Elliot first moved in with the Auca. To be used (as I gather) as a sort of sociological study model for college groups, missions groups, perhaps even Bible Translation groups to come visit, which would provide them a more accurate picture as to what they were dealing with in people groups in the rain forests of Ecuador. Mostly Christian groups came.

However, there was one secular group which sent groups for four years to Ecuador to the Auca tribe. These were four separate groups from the same University. And out of 50 States and the numerous Universities they could have come from...it happened that these came from the University of Washington. And many of those young people from the University of Washington who walked into the rainforest on their 'own' trail, walked out 'walking God's trail', having been 'witnessed' to by the illiterate, primitive tribal peoples, their lives transformed by God's Amazing Grace. From the very University where one of the five martyred Missionaries had desired to bring the gospel...here, decades after his death, fruit was still being borne of his work, and his faithfulness to God's calling, even though his calling necessitated dying for the sake of the Gospel. The blood of those martyrs truly was the seed of the church where the Auca were concerned. (Spurgeon?) And years after that professorial hopeful had died, God brought that man's life dreams and plans full circle after all.

So often, with our finite human eyes, we tend to lose faith or despair that the Lord is doing what He said He would do when we don't see immediate results. We're not willing to continue trusting when things don't go the way we expect them to, but often, we're being asked to trust anyway. To believe when we can't see. God, in His wisdom, chooses to keep some things a mystery (until their appointed time), which is good...because if those missionaries had known for certain what awaited them...they might not have have been willing to go to the Auca. Jonah knew what God wanted him to do by preaching repentance in Nineveh, but ran the opposite direction because He felt those people unworthy of such a message. But when he finally did go where God asked him to, thousands turned to God.

Much of what God asks of us we just need to do without grumbling or complaining, even when we can't see why, but knowing that He has His reasons. We might not see these reasons either, and sometimes they might even seem upside-down or backwards to our human logic...but always, God has a reason. Reasons we may never know this side of Heaven

God is a Sovereign God. His word does not go out void. Our labor for the Lord is never in vain. He has a greater plan and is orchestrating all the details of that plan, using us as He will. It's awe-inspiring, really. To be part of such a 'tapestry' of events in world History. And to know that believers are on the side that wins. And that God has chosen to use even little old, finite me to play some part in the bigger course of events.

I am in awe of you, Lord God Almighty.