Thursday Thirteen: 13 Things I'm Thankful For

1. Living in a Country where we can serve the Lord without fear.

2. Having a tremendous Military and government system that works to ensure our freedoms are protected.

3. A faithful husband that is my best friend and an excellent provider for our family.

4. Two wonderful boys.

5. A long legacy of faith in our extended family.

6. Good friends.

7. That the Lord always provides for all our basic needs and many of our wants.

8. Cars that get us where we need to go.

9. A roof over our heads.

10. Chocolate.

11. Good health.

12. A wonderful church family and Pastor.

13. Thanksgiving Dinner and how it makes the house smell soooo good.

Wordless Wednesday: When Nobody is Looking

It's My First Major Award!

In the immortal words of Ralphie's old man, "It's my first major award! I won, I won, I won!"

Thank You to Kellan for giving me the "Blogging That Hits The Mark" award.

In return, I'd like to give this award to two bloggers that I feel really Hit The Mark....Jenster, whose blog, among many other things, has chronicled her journey from diagnosis of Breast Cancer to Survivor in a serious and yet often humorous way. Always an excellent read. The other person I'd like to give this award to is Cecily R whose thoughtful and yet humorous approach to motherhood is inspiring and always keeps me in stitches.

Gentleman...Start Your Engines

Yesterday was a much looked forward to yearly event. Our AWANA Club holds a Grand Prix Pinewood Derby type event every year as a means of getting kids and parents to work together on a project, and then to run it in the big race.

It's always a lot of fun for everyone, except that this year, we scheduled it a little too late in the fall and it crowded in on the Holidays. That problem, thankfully, has already been rectified for next fall.

Jericho was all gung ho about wanting to get a trophy for speed this year, but because it was around 8 pm the night before the race (as we were shopping in the dollar store to find some Pez dispensers to hack off their heads utilize in our race car designs) I told him I don't do speed, but design we could handle.

After laboring for weeks staying up really late the night before the race, we came up with these two cars...the Pollen Jock and the Spidey-Mobile.

Here, Jericho's Pollen Jock is lined up ready for the first heat of the race.

Jericho waits expectantly to see if 4.8 oz (limit 5 oz) will, in fact win for speed.

His crestfallen look when his race car finishes last (and the friend to his left finished ahead of him). He might as well learn early in life that "you win some, you lose some".

Here, Grandma watches the race and supervises little brother. See the blur of activity to her right in the second picture? That's our little Judah.

Jericho does indeed win a trophy for design...for the fourth year in a row. Mom's with art degrees are good for something, after all.

And yes, you may have noticed that he is absolutely filthy. Yes, he did take a shower that morning, and yes, he started off with clean clothes. Boys will be boys, however, and between heats in the race, they disappeared to the back lot for an ongoing game of touch football.

I spent the morning serving food at the Pitstop Cafe, and in-between times, acted as roving photographer gathering pictures for our end-of-the-year slide show presentation. Jeff brought the devotional.

Judah watched the races from the best seat in the house. "Whoa!" he would exclaim when they'd crash into the pillow at the end of the track.

Judah's and my Spidey-Mobile lined up and ready to go.

If only "Pie-dough Man" (as Judah would say) could have used his Spidey powers to pull himself to the finish line more quickly. Yup, there he is STOPPED just short of the finish line. How pathetic is that, lol?

This was us after the race was over. We had a really good time in spite of the fact that Judah was long overdue for a nap.

But that was just fine, because he and mommy had a nice loooong nap after we got home.

In Loving Memory of Baby Claire

Early this afternoon, I received the very sad news that my cousins precious little baby girl Claire went to be with Jesus this morning. Her family was there with her during those last moments, and finally got to see her and hold her unencumbered by all the cords and tubes she was attached to.

My family and I appreciate so very much all your prayers on behalf of Claire and her family. It's so wonderful to have friends that are willing to join you in prayer for those they don't even know. Again, I can't begin to express my gratitude...thank you.

My aunt mentioned to my mom that they could all sense the prayers that had gone up for them throughout little Claire's stay in the hospital. Though it was an ordeal that strained and stretched them at times, through it all, they felt that Peace that surpasses all understanding.

So much so, that the Doctor in the NICU even told my aunt and uncle that their daughter, my cousin Renee, was one in a zillion. That in all his 30+ years in the NICU, he'd never witnessed a mom who lived out her faith and had such grace as she did under those circumstances.

While I have grieved all afternoon for my cousin and her family during this very difficult turn of events, we do not grieve like those without hope. We know our dear little Claire is safe in the arms of Jesus. We also know that God's ways are higher than our ways. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts.

We don't always know the whys and wherefores of things that happen here in this world, but we do know that God is Faithful, and completes the work he begins in us. He is still on His throne. We may never know the reasons why things happen as they do this side of eternity, but we heard about many wonderful things that transpired in the lives of our loved ones, and some of the other families also in the NICU during Claire's stay there...glimpses of what might very well have been part of Claire's purpose on this earth, and for that, we can only stand in Awe of our All Wise, All Knowing Creator.

Our little Claire was a beautiful, precious gift that will not be forgotten. We were driven to our knees in prayer, frequently throughout each day of her short life...and in doing so, were drawn ever closer to our Lord. Though clear across the country from her, I felt like I knew the little sweetie as surely as if I was there in the NICU with them. Concentrated prayer on behalf of another seems to do that.

When I was reading the e-mail from my aunt earlier today, saying that Claire flew to the arms of Jesus this morning at 9:24 am, I got this beautiful image in my mind...one of a vivacious, cooing, giggly little dark headed baby girl, being held up by Jesus above his head as fathers do to delight their little ones, Jesus laughing in delight. It's one I'll always hold dear.

In that same e-mail, my aunt Pam included the beautiful lyrics to the song
Held by Natalie Grant, which was written for a friend who lost a baby.

Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling

Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our Savior

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

Now Entering The Terrible Twos

Our youngest son is currently in what is commonly referred to among parents everywhere as the "terrible twos". Actually, he has been in this stage for quite some time already.

Every few days, he has a streak of 'incidents' that give reason to believe in such a concept.

Like the chocolate pudding incident.

And the one involing diaper ointment used to spike up his hair like gel.

Then there was the whole cricket thing.

He was helping daddy when he found a cricket in our garage.

Daddy thought it would be really funny to tell him to go inside and show it to mommy.

Who nearly broke her ankle in her haste to get up and away from her computer chair when he thrust it in her face with an innocent little, "Look, mama...cwicked!" and she looked down and saw it's antennae moving and freaked out (and that was before it temporarily got loose in the living room...)

But perhaps the worst incident to date has involved this rather innocuous looking little toy.

A rare breed where toys are concerned. In fact, this particular breed hasn't been on the market for years, and is much coveted among the toddler boys in our life.

Ahhh, the love of a boy for his dog.

He wants to hold the puppy.

Squeeze the puppy.

Have mommy wrap the puppy up in his 'bwankie' so he can cuddle the puppy.

He's even been known to fall asleep with that puppy in his arms.

While this kind of puppy is very low maintenance rather ideal pet as far as pets go--there is a slight problem...

he stole this puppy from the church nursery!

As you can see, he shows absolutely no remorse whatsoever for his actions.

Oh, boy, do we have our work cut out for us with this one!

And just so you know... the puppy, the plastic set of teething keys, the matchbox car, the Miss Piggy happy meal toy and the toy construction helmet he has stolen over the past few weeks were all returned to the church nursery last evening.

Sunday morning, he'll no doubt have a gleeful reunion with the puppy. Or more accurately, try to wrest it away from one of the other toddlers in the nursery and once again sneak it out to the car so he can have it all to himself.

It still amazes me that he managed to get that thing (and the rest) all the way home without detection!

We're really going to have to keep a close eye on this kid from now on.

I'm So Proud Of Me!

Yesterday, Judah and I took Jeff, Jericho and our nephew Kody all over to our friend's house to help them put on their new roof. Apparently the thrill of getting to run around on a roof was more of an appeal than was driving around looking at potential future homes with mom and baby brother, but whatever.

Our car drama continues around here, and we're once again down to one vehicle. But our truck is being fixed as we speak, which I hope corrects that obnoxious backfiring problem.

My husband was pretty embarrassed when the truck backfired so loudly (and not once but three times in quick succession) on our driveway that several neighbors stepped out onto their front porches looking our direction because they were sure they'd just heard gunshots. Through the smoke of said backfiring, we saw them look curiously around, then realize that it was obviously just something wrong with their neighbors crappy cars again, and went back inside. *blushes*

So after dropping everyone off at the Chavez' home around midmorning, Judah and I took off, taking a different than usual route home. Due to road construction, we came to a daylight headlight area for a couple of miles, so I pulled on my headlights.

Long story short, we drove around for a couple of hours looking at potential properties, and got home just after lunch.

We went inside and I took a blissfully long 2 hour nap while Judah was down.

Then got up and putzed around for an hour or so until someone knocked at my door.

It was my neighbor lady who stopped by on her way out of the neighborhood to tell me she'd noticed that the car lights were on and thought I would like to know.

Yep, you guessed it. Dead battery.

Not wanting to admit it to bother my husband with such a trivial matter, I opted to call good old dad for advice on how to use the jumper cables, and my mother-in-law to come over to provide the working battery with which to jump my car.

My dad's sage advice: "There should be a red cord and a black cord. One clamp on each end is positive, one is negative...but I'm not positive which is negative or positive." *laughs heartily at his pun*

Over the next few minutes, he explained all the particulars, then told me to call him when I was done so he'd know I was okay (??!).

Apparently my dad didn't have much confidence in my abilities.

I'll show him, I thought as I hung up.

No sooner had I dug out the clamps did I realize I'd already forgotten if my dad had said whether the positive clamp should go on before the negative one or not, and fearful of electrocuting myself in front of my toddler son (securely strapped into his carseat) and my mother-in-law, and too proud to call my dad back pressed for time to delay, I broke down and called my husband over at our friends. He had to get down off the roof to answer the phone and advise me, and to tell me to head over there when I was done. After which he smugly says, "And Becky...don't do this again?"

I was tempted to send a Pix message with me sticking out my tongue at him, but I knew that his semi-useful cell phone was sitting on the counter in our kitchen, so I refrained, and hung up, growling like Marge Simpson does when she's annoyed.

So I carefully lay out the jumper cables on the driveway so that the ends are nowhere near each other.

For a moment, I'm a little bit wary, because my dad had said red and black and this set of jumper cables were orange all over. And rather decrepit, looking like they were held together by old, old duct tape.

The little patch of black cord peeking out at the base of only one clamp on each end of the cords was only mildly reasuring. And the fact that the metal handles were not covered in that rubbery stuff that tools are covered in was a little scary.

So there we were, staring under my mother-in-laws hood trying to figure out where to attatch the clamps. I finally decided on a bolt sticking up off the battery, and checking to be sure the black went with the black based clamp, I went for it.

I was fine.

Feeling my confidence grow, I boldly put the other one on. I was still alive.

Then I picked up the others, carefully holding them far apart, and clamped them to my own battery where they were both supposed to go. YAY! I did it!

My MIL jumped in her car and fired it up. We waited a minute or so, and then I turned mine on. It fired right up. We let it charge for a couple of minutes. I then managed to repeat the process without incident, removing the cables from my battery first.

My MIL was standing by her battery, and said, "Wait...since you were so brave...I want to try it. And she removed the first one safely.

"Don't let them touch" I found myself warning her.

She held the removed clamp far away, and removed the other.

We high fived, and Judah and I were on our way.

Ahhh, the feeling of accomplishment. I wonder if I could manage replacing the brakes on our 'new' car?

Nah--Jeff needs a little something to boost his confidence, too. We'll just leave that job to him. ;o)