Learning a New Language

I will bless the LORD at all times;
his praise shall continually be in my mouth. Psalm 34:1

I’ve been reading Ann Voskamp’s life-changing One Thousand Gifts, and have become increasingly aware that my language is one of spoiled grumbling, thanklessness for the daily provision, rather than gratitude for the GIFTS that have been so generously bestowed. I am an Israelite, looking at the manna and sighing…again…and not recognizing it for the miracle it is.

So I’m begging for grace to change my grumbling into gratitude, thankful for the opportunity to learn a new language. Voskamp compares learning new habits to driving out old nails using new ones. HARD work, tedious, but SO worth it. A few thoughts of mine about learning a new language:

One has to continually practice the new language. Since I graduated from high school I’ve had at least 2 semesters of Spanish, Russian, and biblical Greek. And I can’t remember anything beyond the rudimentary basics of each, because I don’t ever use any of these languages, except maybe “Gracias” at a Tex-Mex restaurant. I have committed myself to learning Psalm 34, and am shocked at how difficult it is to remember I will bless the Lord at all times, His praise shall continually be in my mouth. I’ve started muttering it over and over and over…and I’ve put printed copies in the bathroom, in the laundry room, and in our house on wheels (the car). I am determined to possess a mouth, a heart, of gratitude. I’ve also started looking for the blessings in the everyday – what Voskamp calls “One Thousand Gifts.” Last week that included my 6-year-old’s utter delight at hundreds of noisy starlings making a pit stop in our neighborhood, and a diapered baby plunging himself with abandon into the bathtub with his sister. I have to MAKE myself LOOK for the miracle in the everyday, and not just let the everyday wear me out.

It’s easiest to learn a new language when one is immersed in the culture, in the environment of the new language (ie, move to Paris, and you’ll learn French more easily than if you stay in Texas). I need to be surrounded by examples of those who live with grateful hearts. I need to seek out those who already have this practice instilled, in scripture, in life, in music, in books. And I need to imitate them, learn their secrets. I need to make a habit of sharing my new language with others – I must speak it aloud, in public, not just to myself in the laundry room.

One has to recognize the old language when it surfaces. It’s far too easy to slip back into old habits, old familiar patterns. I have to recognize warning signs that my grumbling-talk is surfacing: my complete and utter inability to say I Was Wrong, Please Forgive Me when I’ve done something that shouts loudly for it, and the inability to voice my thankfulness to Very Important Very Close People in my life, like my husband, for the GOOD GIFTS they give me. I’ve heard stories about people who’ve adopted a new language dreaming in the language that they grew up with. Typically they knew that they’d made their adopted language their own when they dreamed in it. I’m praying that I can get to the point where I dream not in grumbling, fear, or worry, but in gratitude.

Father, Luke 6:45 shows that our words echo the cry of our heart. I’m praying that my new language will reflect a heart that daily overflows with gratitude for the gifts You’ve so generously given. Thank you.

I finished this a few days ago – yesterday Voskamp had a beautiful post on her blog about the necessity of not just gratitude, but eucharisto, gratitude for even “that which is hard.” You really should go read that now…

thoughts for a sicky Monday

We've all been sick. I kept the girls home today, so we're all coughing and drinking tea. BUT I'm working on thinking things that are true... This poem has been stuck in my head for a few days, so here it is for me to look at too.

God's Grandeur

By Gerard Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Advent

Thinking about advent over at 5 minutes of kindness.

It's JOY Sunday! The pink candle!! (kinda my favorite). Blessings!

thoughts

today I love these fabrics. with these patterns.


and this thought:

Psalm 127:2 (ESV)
It is in vain that you rise up early
and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
for he gives to his beloved sleep.

or, from the Message:
It's useless to rise early and go to bed late,
and work your worried fingers to the bone.
Don't you know he enjoys
giving rest to those he loves?

BIG exhale.

dresses

So a factor in the "lies that culture tells girls" involves (obviously) the way girls dress.

A few years ago, as the girls started to get BIG, Chris and I had to have conversations about what that should look like. His bottom line, "We need to dress them now the way we want them to dress when they're teenagers." In other words, no short skirts just because they're little. Nothing revealing, or risque (yeah, I'm appalled that they have risque, revealing clothes for little bitties, but it's just true).

So in the search and movement toward beautiful, modest clothing for our little girls that doesn't look too....uhrm...homeschoolerish (for lack of a better term, but I bet you know what I'm talking about), I'm starting to learn to do more on the ol' sewing machine than quilt. Three things help that tremendously: 1) I love fabric. WAY too much (see the SisBoom and Anna Maria Horner line on the left to see what I'm talking about. AMAZING stuff. 2) There is something incredibly satisfying about the creative process of sewing. I didn't think that would happen, but I absolutely LOVE it. 3) Sites like this one that have beautiful patterns for the fabulous aforementioned fabric (her blog is on the left, Olabelhe, btw).

Read the book 5 Conversations You Must Have with Your Daughter * and the author writes about how when clothes were made at home, they fit, and there wasn't an obsession with "What size am I??" How great would it be to grow up and not care what size you are? And to love dressing in clothes that are beautiful, modest and feminine? Excited to start this journey. By the way, I absolutely don't think you have to make clothes at home to help your girls avoid the lies culture tells about clothing - this is just my creative passion, at least today. ;o)

I'll post pics as I finish projects, and as the pumpkins let me take pics.


* I highly recommend this book to all in this search for how to teach our girls about the lies culture feeds us - it's a little wonky at times, but I think the principles the author, Vicki Courtney, presents are vital.

that girl

Today I’m that girl. I didn’t mean to be. I didn’t want to be. But…I am.

Because I invited everyone to my house on Sunday to celebrate my (how is it even possible?) 8 year old Katie, and 3 of them left with the stomach bug that mowed my family down earlier last week. But we were better. And the house had been disinfected. TWICE (at least. That’s not even counting the hundred times I ran Clorox wipes over the light switches, and doorknobs, and appliance handles when we were sick).

So I’m that girl. The one who hands off the horrible stomach bug to the people she loves, because she can’t bear the thought of postponing a party and breaking her 8-year-old’s heart. *sigh* And even when she calls the nurse to see WHAT THE HECK KINDA BUG IS GOING AROUND ANYWAY, DO I NEED TO CALL THE MEN IN THE WHITE SUITS LIKE IN ET?? gets told, “Nah, they couldn’t have gotten it from your house.” Tell that to Nana and Julie and Jenny. (And Mom & Dad, and Jonathan & Judah & Sharifa, and Aaron, cause it’s coming for them, too). Boo.

But maybe…I’m hoping…that the next time I’m not that girl, and someone else is…that I’ll remember today. And I’ll have a heart full of compassion instead of judgment. Because it stinks to be that girl (even when the only voice calling you that girl is your own).

Tons of well-wishes to and prayers for my dear loved ones for a speedy recovery.

lies

So I’ve been quiet lately. Couple of reasons for that. The first is that school started 2 weeks ago. We had to soak up every minute of fun we could, and get geared up for school, and there’s just no time for writing when that’s happening. The second is that I have some things swirling around in my brain that are just so…BIG…and…confounding…that I just don’t quite know how to give them words on paper. Spoken words, I can do that just fine, because other people help me process… But written down. Well, humph.

So I’m just gonna start writing.

There’s a war on. One that I hardly ever think about. It’s the one that the Bible talks about when it talks about the enemy of our souls as a “roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.” And for sure, he’s seeking to devour me, and you… But it hit me hard this summer that he’s seeking to devour my kids, too…

So I’m specifically thinking about my girls here.

Because there are lies that are so interwoven into the fabric of our culture, that I’m not even sure he has to seek anymore to devour the girls who grow up in it. I think the lies just completely eat them alive.

Lies like,

You’re only as good as you look

Your #1 goal is to be sexy

Fat is gross

Different is bad

You’re only worth something if you have a boyfriend

You’ve gotta have the latest & greatest or you suck

And so on (I bet you could add a few to this list, huh?)….

And I’m overwhelmed at the thought that as parents who want to raise girls who absolutely LOVE the Lord, heart, mind, soul, strength, we have to prepare them to FIGHT the current of culture that is coming at them like water from a fire hose. And we have to prepare them to not just walk against it, but to STAND TALL as they walk. To wear the badge of Christ proudly.

So, Chris and I are making some changes around here. I’ll write more about that later. I can tell you the TV is getting moved to our bedroom. The lies that thing tells makes me want to weep. But that’s for another day…

Father, all I can do is beg for wisdom. I don’t want to see the pumpkins chewed up and spit out like so many precious kids are in our culture…I don’t want them to know the pain my heart felt so often, feels still, because I chose, and still choose, to believe the lies that this culture, this world, tells me, instead of believing the absolute truth of Your Word. Mercy, Father, mercy…

cooking

I am determined to not think of Mondays anymore as “ugh…Monday,” but rather as “Central Market Day!” It puts an entirely new spin on the day to think of it that way, as Central Market is the only grocery store I go to that makes me genuinely happy. Giddy, even. If you've never been, I'd love to encourage you to take a field trip soon. Just to look at the produce, if for no other reason.

I love to cook. I don’t always cook. Sometimes I quickly throw a meal together, when life is chaotic, or I just am too tired to be creative, but when I have time and energy…I really enjoy cooking tasty food for the people I love. I’ve found, though, that the key to cooking tasty food is having great recipes. So I feel like I’m on a quest – always searching for great recipes, and when I find one that sticks, I’m a happy camper.

Cooks Illustrated is a treasure-trove of great recipes. If I’m ever still enough to catch their show on PBS on Saturdays, it’s a treat. I recently purchased their Family Cookbook, and Family Baking Book, and highly recommend them both. I can read cooking magazines & cookbooks like novels (K has lately taken to reading cookbooks the same way. I even saw her grab my Julia Child cookbook the other day!). I devour them, and come back to them again and again. Everyday Food magazine (another great PBS cooking show) is another favorite. I also like to look on Food Network’s website, and Allrecipes for ideas when I want to make something, but am having trouble finding just the right recipe. Both of those have ratings and reviews, and I find comments from others who love to cook most helpful.

I think baking is my favorite variation on cooking, though. Cookies, especially. I have a killer chocolate chip recipe, and sugar cookie recipe, and it’s so much fun to whip up a batch when the craving arises, and have the girlies help. Though sometimes I find that it’s better to bake alone, as a sort of therapy. Little voices do tend to be a bit distracting, lovely though they are.

So here’s to tasty food! And Central Market, where I can get lovely supplies for wonderful meals! Happy Central Market Day!

summer

I used to think that spring was the favorite, with all its new growth and cool breezes and exuberance. But now I know that it was just because it meant that the cold was gone, and it pointed to a time when everything slows down. A season that is more of a way of life than anything else…summer.

Summer is the favorite, no doubt about it.

It feels crazy now, in the midst of the “dog days” to say that I prefer it over all the other seasons, but I have my reasons. Here are a few of them:

1) Fruit. We have a little party in my house every year when we crack open our first watermelon. And we eat it constantly. Peaches, too. We adore peaches. All the fresh fruits and veggies (not grown by my own labor, let me tell you) just make me happy. I have a goal of having a garden one day…we tried a few years ago, and the squash took over the backyard, and the tomatoes just never did set up right, but one day I will learn. And won’t that be fabulous?

2) The leisurely pace. The school year feels like a rushed mess to me, most of the time. I love that we can sleep late in summer, have nice long breakfasts together, and that daddy is home for an entire month. We paint fingernails, we eat popsicles, we do lots of crafty stuff.

3) We get to play in water. Swimming is a big favorite around here. But we don’t have a pool, so it doesn’t happen as often as we’d like. But we do have a water hose, and a sprinkler, and that’s big fun. BIG fun.

4) Shoes are optional. I hardly wear shoes in the summer. The girls too. That’s gotten us into trouble a few times when we’ve gone out to the grocery, only to realize that one or the other of us have forgotten our shoes. Oh well…

5) Days that last forever. It’s hard as anything on the kids, with the sun coming up early, and setting late, but it’s so nice to have the sun around. I miss it in the winter.

But it’s almost August. I think in my heart, summer ends at the beginning of August, when daddy goes back to work, and the school supplies are bright & shiny on the shelves in the stores, and we have to work our way back into a routine so that early school mornings don’t make us all miserable. The countdown to back-to-school is about to start, and it makes my heart a little achy.

But I have a few more days of glorious summer, and I’m going to live it up while I can.

quilting

Never thought I’d be one who loved anything to do with a sewing machine, but there it is. I adore quilting (machine quilting! I'm not patient enough for hand quilting). A few samples:

I’ve done a few bigger quilts, but I really REALLY love to make baby quilts. There’s just something so fantastic about making a quilt for a little person who hasn’t even arrived yet, and just praying and thinking about him or her while I work on one of these…

So yeah, it’s a passion. Love working with the colors, the different textures. Fabric stores make me swoon.

I want to make a new quilt for our bed (the one I made just looks kinda frumpy to me right now. I started working on it when MA was a bitty, and just finished it a few years ago. It just needs…updating). It's the MASTER bedroom quilt…and I’m a little daunted. So I’m going to start poking around on some quilting/sewing/crafty blogs for inspiration. In fact, on these (for starters):

Block Party Quilting

Handmade By Alissa

Tall Grass Prairie Studio

Marie Madeline Studio

Bramblewood Fashion

Sew Pretty Dresses

So as I start to find favorites they’ll just start to show up on faves over on the left. Consider yourself warned!

the muppet show

Always will be a favorite. Adored the Muppets when I was little, still think they're marvelous. We own Seasons 1-3, and it's such fun introducing the kiddos to these crazy and lovable characters. Highlights (that I can think of right now):

Season 3, Elton John episode, when he sings Crocodile Rock with Muppet crocodiles, and Dr Teeth & the Electric Mayhem.
Anything Swedish Chef.
Beaker's voice.
the Gilda Radner episode.
the Steve Martin episode (banjo!).
the Gogolala Jubilee Jugband singing I'm my own Grandpa (or anything else).
Rowlf on the piano.

I'm sure youtube has a ton of Muppet stuff to view - probably even segments of everything I've mentioned above. My computer blocks youtube, and I haven't taken time to figure out how to make it stop yet, so I can't provide links - apologies!

the Word

I can’t remember a time when the Word of God wasn’t a factor in my life. There are cassette tapes with my tiny voice on it, quoting the birth narrative of Christ. A tale of the time I memorized Psalm 100 in the nursery at church, and then said it in front of the congregation. I think the prize was my own little Bible. Memories of mom pantomiming verses so my sister and I would remember the passages we’d been assigned for school. Numerous Gideon Bibles – the version with the New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs – handed out at Backyard Bible Clubs on mission trips in high school. So much of my life was based on the Book, but I didn’t really grasp much of it.

That happened later, my freshman year in college, in a dorm room while I was plowing my way through Romans. As with so many things in university, there was just an unquenchable hunger for learning, for figuring out, for making things my own. So something in the early chapters of Romans – I hate that I can’t remember exactly what – was used by the Holy Spirit to grab hold of me, and convince me of my utter and desperate need for a Savior. So the Word became a constant companion… It nourished me. It picked me up and carried me home when I walked away from the safety its instruction provided. It was a balm to my broken heart, my wounded soul, again and again. In the years that followed, I was just so hungry for what it had to say… I spent so much time in it that passages from the Psalms and the Epistles would just roll of my tongue when I was praying. It was so beautifully familiar.

And it still is. It’s just – different. I think Seminary somehow made it a technical manual for me, as opposed to a finely crafted love letter. I remember a girl at Seminary scoffing that people still read 5 Psalms and a Proverb as their daily time in the Word – “that’s just so immature.” I had done that for years, and it had made my heart soft, and adoring. Yet somehow I felt ashamed. Somehow felt the need to walk away from immature to mature, as if what she said was somehow binding. All that did was allow me to eventually abandon daily reading, because when I tried to read the more mature stuff in a devotional manner, it didn’t work. I hate that… I’m working to rid myself of that bias, to remember what it is to read the Word, all of it, with adoration. Because, the truth is, it is a Book of beauty, of God’s love for His people, and the world, and it is absolutely lovely and life-changing.

Psalm 119 is a meditation, a love letter, written about the Word of the Lord. I go to it when I’m thinking about the beauty of Scripture. Several of my favorite passages are below, or you can read the Psalm in its entirety here.

Psalm 119

⁹How can a young man keep his way pure?
By guarding it according to your word.
¹⁰ With my whole heart I seek you;
let me not wander from your commandments!
¹¹I have stored up your word in my heart,
that I might not sin against you.
¹²Blessed are you, O LORD;
teach me your statutes!
¹³With my lips I declare
all the rules of your mouth.
¹⁴In the way of your testimonies I delight
as much as in all riches.
¹⁵I will meditate on your precepts
and fix my eyes on your ways.
¹⁶I will delight in your statutes;
I will not forget your word.

⁴¹Let your steadfast love come to me, O LORD,
your salvation according to your promise;
⁴²then shall I have an answer for him who taunts me,
for I trust in your word.
⁴³And take not the word of truth utterly out of my mouth,
for my hope is in your rules.
⁴⁴I will keep your law continually,
forever and ever,
⁴⁵and I shall walk in a wide place,
for I have sought your precepts.
⁴⁶I will also speak of your testimonies before kings
and shall not be put to shame,
⁴⁷for I find my delight in your commandments,
which I love.
⁴⁸I will lift up my hands toward your commandments, which I love,
and I will meditate on your statutes.

⁹⁷Oh how I love your law!
It is my meditation all the day.
⁹⁸Your commandment makes me wiser than my enemies,
for it is ever with me.
⁹⁹I have more understanding than all my teachers,
for your testimonies are my meditation.
¹⁰⁰I understand more than the aged,
for I keep your precepts.
¹⁰¹I hold back my feet from every evil way,
in order to keep your word.
¹⁰²I do not turn aside from your rules,
for you have taught me.
¹⁰³How sweet are your words to my taste,
sweeter than honey to my mouth!
¹⁰⁴Through your precepts I get understanding;
therefore I hate every false way.

¹⁰⁵ Your word is a lamp to my feet
and a light to my path.
¹⁰⁶I have sworn an oath and confirmed it,
to keep your righteous rules.
¹⁰⁷I am severely afflicted;
give me life, O LORD, according to your word!
¹⁰⁸Accept my freewill offerings of praise, O LORD,
and teach me your rules.
¹⁰⁹I hold my life in my hand continually,
but I do not forget your law.
¹¹⁰The wicked have laid a snare for me,
but I do not stray from your precepts.
¹¹¹Your testimonies are my heritage forever,
for they are the joy of my heart.
¹¹²I incline my heart to perform your statutes
forever, to the end.

the beach

I know I said I’d write next about the Word…but today I’m feeling frumpy, and I’m thinking about the beach, so I’m going to write about the beach instead.

I can’t remember the first time we went to the beach. I was young…but I was instantly hooked. A note here – when I say beach, I think somewhere along the Florida coast on the Gulf of Mexico. Not a shivery cold beach in North Carolina or California – beautiful, but not what I have in mind. White sand is a must. Warm, with a constant balmy breeze. The water isn’t cold, but it’s not hot either. And the waves…never…stop…

For me, there is something so restorative about a trip to the beach. Correct that, a vacation to the beach.

One of my bosses, in a life that feels so foreign, before children, had categories for these things:
trip: going somewhere like Disneyworld. super fun, but super exhausting.
visit: going to see people. potential for fun is high but so is the potential for misery. vacation: going somewhere like the beach, and watching seagulls bash their heads against the water. rest is a must. no exhaustion or misery involved.

So, a vacation at the beach. For me, it’s reading fiction under a beach umbrella with a festive drink on one side and my toes buried in the sand. It’s a house, on the beach, with a weathered boardwalk you cross as quickly as possible to get to the super-hot white sand, so you can get to the water and cool off your toes. It’s sand everywhere, but that’s OK, because it’s supposed to be. It’s good food, it’s family. It’s sleeping like you never sleep at home, because the waves are constant, and comforting, and you’re drained from being outside all day. It’s little people looking like sugared donuts because they’re covered with sand all the time. It’s sitting in the sand at night and listening to the waves.

The last trip we took, in 2009, gave me a new appreciation for nighttime at the beach. I was in the first trimester of a pregnancy, and on our 3^rd day there, I started spotting. And it didn’t stop. So I was heartsick with worry, and sleep wasn’t happening. But we were on a beach where sea-turtles build their nests, so there were strict policies about NO LIGHTS outside of houses, or on the beaches at night (apparently it confuses the baby turtles, because they head for the light of the moon to find the water). So the stars….the STARS…were a thing of wonder and beauty. They started right where the water ended, and they were magnificent. So when I wasn’t sleeping, because I felt horrible and didn’t want to wake the whole house up by going outside, I would pull the mini-blinds, and just stare. And I would think to myself, over and over and over again, “The One who made them knows me. He knows what’s happening. And He loves me.” And I’d cry, and eventually fall asleep. The day before we left the beach we went to an awful ER and found out that I was indeed having a miscarriage. I will always think of those moments with the stars, with Him, when I think of that baby.

My heart yearns for the beach. But life being what it is, we don’t get there often enough. Budgets are restrictively tight, and there’s not always wiggle room for a week at the beach. But that doesn’t stop me from dreaming – this is a pic, from that week in 2009, that always greets me from my computer screen.

Don’tcha wanna go??

crawling back

Well, people, after an incredibly long hiatus, I’m attempting to come back to regular blogging.

There are just some things that I’m feeling the need to process thru, and I think that regularly posting thoughts & other things here just might help the processing along…

So, where to begin?

I kinda feel like I need to figure out how to crawl back into my skin. Find Shannon… Not who I think I should be, or who others think I should be, or the mommy-version, or the wife-version, or the busy-busy-busy-with-whatever version… but Just. Plain. Old. Me.

And I’m not quite sure how to get there, to be honest. So I’m trying to think about things that make me come alive, things that stir my passions, and just see what happens. *A disclaimer here. I am passionate about my marriage and my children. That could go without saying. But I’m gonna say it anyway – my sweet little family gets me more fired up than anything else on this planet. But that’s not the point of this journey… The point is to remember – to discover? – the things that make me come alive apart from them, to be the best me I can be apart from them. That way, I’m the best me I can be when I’m with them as well. Win-win, see?*

So I think I’m going to start with writing about the Word of God. It stirs me like little else does.

And hopefully it won’t be 2 years between this post and that one.

summer book club, week 2

So here are the books we've been reading this week:

Thy Friend, Obadiah by Brinton Turkle
*Cute story about a seagull who follows a little boy, Obadiah, around. Nice pictures, made me hungry because the mom bakes muffins and homemade bread.

Snipp, Snapp, Snurr and the Magic Horse by Maj Lindman
*This story just weirded me out completely. Although these are recommended on K's book list, this one convinced me to not check any more out. Nothing sinister - it was just strange.

The Four Seasons of Brambly Hedge by Jill Barklem
These were originally published as 4 separate books, obviously following the seasons (Spring Story, Summer Story, etc...). Tells stories of a little community of mice, who wear clothes, and have great houses in trees and bushes and tree stumps. Great illustrations - my girls really love them because of the whole "animals wearing clothes" factor, but I think boys might like it because of the details of the factories & things like that.

Nursery Classics by Paul Galdone
Great collection of classic fairy tales/fables (Little Red Hen, Goldilocks & The Three Bears, The Three Little Pigs), with fantastic illustrations.

Summer Book Club

So it's summertime!! One of the ways we try to stay cool in our neck of the woods is with a weekly visit to the library. Miss K has a summer reading list we need to help her work through before school starts in the fall, and as the list is (in my opinion) a super-great resource for those of us parenting wee ones, I'm going to blog my way through the list....or at least attempt to! We'll make a visit to the library tomorrow to pick up our first 5 books from the list, but for now I'll share some selections we already have here at home, and thoughts as they pop to mind about some of my favorites:

Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, Virginia Lee Burton
The Little House, Virginia Lee Burton
*I adore Burton's books. If you haven't read any of her books, by all means, do so today!!

Animals, Animals, Eric Carle (or any other Carle book)
*I could seriously decorate an entire room with nothing but Carle's illustrations. So gifted!

Prayer for a Child, Rachel Field

Corduroy, Don Freeman (or any other Freeman book)

The Market Square Dog, James Herriot (or any other children's books by Herriot)
*James Herriot is fabulous...the children's books are beautifully illustrated, kiddo-appropriate versions of the tales he writes of his days as a vet in the English countryside. He also has a series of books for adults that are so much fun to read.

The Story of Ferdinand, Munro Leaf

The Little Engine that Could, Watty Piper

The Tale of Tom Kitten, Beatrix Potter (or others in this series)

Another thing Miss K's school has the children work on is recitation, both scripture & poems. Her class recited Robert Louis Stevenson's The Swing for the end of the year party, and she regularly spouts it off when she's playing in the backyard. Encourage those little minds to memorize! You'll be amazed at how much they retain...

how He loves

I love seeing things that I've become used to through my children's eyes. I don't know that Easter is ever something that one should become "used to," but as the years have passed, it's become another holiday that marks how quickly the years are flying by, as in "Good night, is it Easter already?? Didn't this just happen??"

Anyway, Miss K drew this last night with her daddy. She wasn't prompted, she just drew it. She's got such a tender heart - it's really amazing to see the Holy Spirit working in her life, drawing her to Christ in such a sweet way. So hopefully this year I can really stop, and focus on the wonder of Christ, the wonder of His love for us all, His love for the Father, displayed in the cross. A song that keeps ringing in my mind is John Mark McMillan's "How He Loves" - if you haven't heard it yet, click here, find "How He Loves," and have a listen...

you are beautiful!!

Friday at MOPS, Dr. Deborah Newman, a Dallas counselor and pastor to women, came to talk to all of us mommies about body image issues with our preschoolers. The statistics she mentioned were shocking - so many of our littles think terrible things about their bodies - and I think they get most of it from listening to us. It makes me cringe to think of the number of times I've looked at my reflection in the mirror, in front of their impressionable little ears, and uttered "so fat..."

I'll be the first to admit that I don't look like I looked at 18, or 22, or even 26 for that matter...but WHO DOES after having kids, and the old metabolism slowdown that comes with being in your 30's, and WHY do I try to live up to an impossible standard? Why can't I just be content with who I am, with how God has made me?? I'm not saying that I need to just give up, and stop exercising, and eat junk all day...but I need to realize that God has made me to do way more than obsess about the way I look in a pair of jeans.

So on Friday, Dr Newman had us pair up, and say a statement about who we are, in light of being God's children, to each other. It made me cry...I just get so caught up in what the world would have me think of myself, that I can't even remember the truth about who I am to the One who created me. I'm not going to put it here, because I think that everything on her website is copyrighted, but I'd love to challenge you to visit her website here, and find "You are beautiful," about 4/5 of the way down the page, at the bottom of the section "What's a mom to do?" Find a trusted friend, a sister, someone you connect with, and say it to each other. You can certainly tell yourself this in a mirror...but it was so powerful to hear these words spoken over me by a trusted mentor and dear friend.

Again, here's Dr. Newman's website - I'd challenge any of you who might be inadvertently passing on lies about body image to visit. It's going to be a regular stop for me!

Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Happy Mardi Gras everyone!

Even though it's been (gasp!) 12 years since I've called Louisiana home, and 25 since my family lived just outside of New Orleans, there's still something special about Fat Tuesday to me. Like Kelley said on facebook, it's probably more because of the days we had off school than anything else, but I've got some fun Mardi Gras memories lurking around in my brain, and I'm glad to have them!

One of my favorite Mardi Gras memories, I think, is one of me & Jenny playing Mardi Gras parade on the swingset in our backyard in Kenner. The swingset was the float, and we'd take turns throwing beads and doubloons to one another....can't even imagine how much junk my poor dad must have mowed over, with junk getting thrown everywhere, but I'll always giggle when I think of us doing that.

Doing my best to pass on the fun to my kiddos. They already know what a king cake is, baby baked inside & all (yes, Susan, to me it's never going to be weird!), and after I told them the story of auntie & me playing Mardi Gras, K found a flyer from Party City advertising beads & doubloons, and wants some so she & MA can play Mardi Gras, too. Just might have to fulfill that wish today (sorry, honey - I'll do my best to pick up before you have to mow)!

thinking of pop

Haven't been writing much lately (obviously!). I've been attributing that to a case of mid-winter "mully-grubs" (yes, I still use that phrase Bro. Doyle!), and acclamation to the world of facebook (ha!). But as I've been thinking about it today, I think it's because I just really miss my pop. Some of you know he passed away a few months ago - what you might not know is the last time I was with him, I was a complete brat.

Pop, like lots of other 87 year-olds, didn't have the best hearing in the world. Some granddads might put it more delicately, but that old marine who'd raised 8 kids of his own had taken to commenting on my girlies' "screechy little voices" in the last few months he was with us. He never had anything ugly to say about my girls...he loved them - they always got big kisses and hugs from pop-pop whenever we went to see him. But he was tired of what their high-pitched little-girl voices did to his ears, to his head.

So the last time I saw him, I pitched a fit when he fussed about their "screechy little voices." And I didn't give him a chance to apologize when he tried to...and I didn't give my girls time to say goodbye to their pop-pop as I stormed out of his house.

The next time I saw him was on a table in the emergency room, tubes coming out of his mouth, still warm although he was gone. All I could do was kiss his head (his hair was always so soft), and whisper "I am so so sorry..."

And I will always regret that I never got the chance to make things right with pop this side of heaven. I will always, always regret that my girls didn't get to give pop their usual hugs and kisses before we left. I hate that.

I'm praying that I'll learn from this, that I'll be more careful with the precious time I'm given with those I love. But I know that I'm stubborn, that I tend to forget lessons all too quickly, and that sometimes the only way for me to really get something is when it really, really hurts. Think this one qualifies. Father, thank you for tender mercies that are new every morning...how thankful I am that you don't take off in a huff when I insult You, or Your Son with my words and actions. Please, please help me to learn a lesson here, to love well, and to forgive quickly. How desperately I want to grow up to be like Jesus...