Packages all tied up with paper and string

Ahh, the satisfaction of being done with the Christmas shopping and looking at all your packages wrapped and ready to go. I know, sounds shallow, huh?

But I can look back at my childhood and understand why those pretty packages mean so much to me. Growing up, we never had a lot at Christmas. I still remember the year we came home from church to a tree on our porch. A beautiful thing to a kid, whose parent's couldn't afford a tree. I cherish the memories of gifts that were given to us from anonymous people or friends when we weren't expecting any. Those gifts meant even more. I even liked the fact that we didn't get a lot of gifts at Christmas. I remember hearing kids at school talk about the 8 or more gifts they got and thinking how sad it was. At 10 years old I actually told myself that they couldn't enjoy all of their gifts if they got so many.

My other memories of gifts were the matching gifts. One year it was porcelain dolls, another year matching coats, and again matching bikes.... then yet again, at 14 it was matching outfits. Don't get me wrong, it isn't an attitude of ingratitude that I look back on those gifts. I was truly grateful, and still am. But somehow, they left me with a void. Or maybe it was a voice, crying "don't you know me?" "Do you take the time to listen?" Another time, a family member took me shopping for my gift, and  purchased a dress for me even when I told them I did not like it. The gifts were not about the recipient, they were about the giver. Not what I wanted, not what mattered to me, but what worked for them.

These experiences have influenced my gift giving. I want to give generously, to put my heart and soul into giving. To give in a way that shows that I care about the person who I am giving to. I also want to be mindful that it isn't about the money, but the heart.  The result has often been high levels of stress. Trying to balance generosity with prudence is like walking a tight rope over the Grand Canyon. Only, I'm the one that is not very forgiving.

Yet here I am, truly excited about the gifts I am giving. Why? 

Because I have put my heart into them. I am absolutely thrilled to give. And because I've seen little miracles come together to make it happen.

So, here it is... this year started with a problem... my usual dilemma was put to it's ultimate test. This is the year I was supposed to trim down my budget. Due to some financial decisions, which will work for our good in the long run, we are trying to keep our spending closely reigned in. How does one give generously without spending a lot of money? The pressure was on.

To my amazement, when I looked in my gift closet ( I have 5 nieces and nephews... I'm always getting things when I see them) I had almost all the gifts I needed for my nieces and nephews already purchased. 

Next step, poor my heart and soul into gifts from the heart. So over 10 hours later, the homemade gifts are ready (Ok, that is probably an under estimate, but I don't really want to think about how much time I really spent on them, or I will probably just buy them next year).

Without breaking budget, Christmas was well on it's way...  Ok, so I've probably spent well over 20 hours poring over every gift and detail, writing out lists, making sure I haven't forgot anyone. It hasn't been a cake walk. But it is worth it.

On to the next step. *Sigh* My family... I will admit, I have struggled this year. I've even shed tears and lost sleep on more nights than I am willing to admit ( I know I usually admit everything). So, as a desperate mama who want's nothing more than to give to her kids, I begged my Father for help. See, I don't want to just get my kids toys... I don't want them to have an even number of gifts, or even and even amount of money spent. It isn't about being fair or even about providing what I didn't have growing up. 

I want to show my kids that I know who they are, care about what is important to them, and here what they say. I want my gifts to reflect what they love, want and desire, but even more, something that speaks to them that I know what that is.

So how does one do that on a budget? By begging the greatest Giver for a gift. Yes, I have been praying for what to give my kids for Christmas since October... maybe even September. And not just a quick little prayer either.

And the best gift I got this year... My Father heard my heart. He not only answered my prayers, but he did it beyond what I had asked.

Wood that is in the clearance bin, a stranger offering me her coupon, a four week long fight with my husband that resulted in something beautiful, and a buy one get one free of already marked down to 50% off sale, all culminated into gifts I can't wait to give. 

So as I look at my packages all tied up with paper and string, I am truly thankful for the gift of giving. 

Embracing Denial

So I know that denial is actually a bad thing... But today, I don't care. If denial is what gets me through the day, then SO BE IT... I must Deny.

So what am I in denial about?

1. My son starts kindergarten next year
2. My kitchen floor, or more appropriately the gunk that is hiding my kitchen floor
3. My load of laundry in the drier that is covered with a bucket of lint
4. My stack of presents that need wrapping, but I don't want to waste paper
5. My moldy vegetables and jars of who knows what in the deep recesses of my fridge
6. My friendly black widow spider that greats me each time I enter the garage
7. My garden that apparently has attracted vermin of unknown kind and refuses to sprout
8. My beautiful bright orange sugar pie pumpkins that have been on my counter since October


So, is there anything terribly wrong about pretending that these things are not important? That I don't need to worry about them? Is is possible that they will go away?

Truthfully, only one of those things is truly important. So what if my floor is dirty, that my presents will be haphazardly wrapped at the last minute, that my clothes are covered in lint and wrinkled, that I have a science experiment in my fridge or an odd fly trap. Does it really matter that my garden isn't producing or that I will be eating pumpkins in February? No.

What is important, is the one that scares me the most... my number one. What haunts me throughout the night, yet paralyzes me during the day. My son, my first born starts SCHOOL next year... and I haven't figured out where yet. OUCH! Ok, I've admitted it. Guess I can't embrace denial if I am admitting. Oh, but I long for denial. A place where I can pretend an important decision like that doesn't exist, or were I don't have to constantly feel guilty for not calling and visiting every school in the area.

In honor of truth, I must admit, I am terrified. Not of him, not of school, but of making the wrong decision. How do you know what the right school is? What makes a good school? What does my child need to succeed? How much is too much? Or how little is too little?

I ask the questions, and still feel lost. And so, until Christmas is over, I choose to embrace denial, so I can sleep at night, tackle my laundry, scrub a floor and wrap gifts. I might even bake a pumpkin as well.

Trusting the Griller

The other day, I coerced my husband into enter a grilling contest. He had received 2nd place the previous year and I was determined to show his (my) skills off again this year. I spent hours going over marinade options, took all three kids to the store to purchase the meat (not an easy task) and carefully created the perfect "brew" for my tri-tip. I also  turned the meat every two hours to ensure thorough marination and on the day of the bbq, I was the one that put everything together so we were ready. Then I looked at my husband and said, " don't screw it up". Ok, I didn't really say that, but I thought it.
The contest, held at our church's annual memorial day picnic, wasn't complicated, and only a few people entered. We got to the park early, I was hungry to compete. My husband was not. Over the course of the next two hours, I spent more time moaning, groaning, humming and ha-ing over how my husband was cooking the meat. "Babe, don't you think you should start the meat?" "Is the grill hot enough?" "Did you turn it to soon?" "Let it rest longer." "You're cutting it to thick." "Those pieces are to big." "Why haven't you covered it?"
My poor husband, he didn't even want to participate in the contest in the first place, and here he was, being micro managed, nit-picked and criticized instead of hanging with the guys or playing with the kids. After the picnic was over, I began to ponder what happened. Had I ever really given him control? Was it really about him? Why had I even asked him to grill the meat? Then, the thoughts went deeper. Is this how I am with God? Have I ever really given him control? Do I sit there and nit-pick how he does things? Do I try to micro-manage my own life? How many times have I told God that I want to do something, ask Him to accomplish it for me and then sit there and complain about how it isn't going the way I want it to. Do I tell Him that He is doing it wrong? Do I even give control over to Him so that He can do it?

Proverbs 3:5-6 says "Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. ⁶ Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take (NLT)."  The Message put it this way, " Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he's the one who will keep you on track. Don't assume that you know it all. Run to God! Run from evil! (vs. 5-7)" 


Why do I fear letting go so deeply. I have this reoccurring nightmare that haunts me. I find myself thrown into a moving van, and I am expected to drive the van from the back seat. We are talking about a fifteen passenger van and I'm steering from the fourth or fifth row. As I careen through traffic I desperately try to make it to the front of the car so I can see what I am doing and not get myself killed. I usually wake up in a panic right before I crash into something. When I don't trust God and follow Him, am I trying to steer my life from the back seat?  Or worse, am I telling God that I trust his driving and then tell him that he is going to fast, or that he is going the wrong way? Is it even possible to navigate through life with such a limited view? What does it mean to actually trust someone enough to let go and not be a back seat driver?
In order to put my trust in someone, I have to decide who I want to be in control.  I have to decide if I want my husband to be in control of the meat or myself. If I am the one doing all the prep for the meat, I should just be the one to grill it, I shouldn't ask someone else to do what I want to do. If I do decide that I want my husband to do it, that means handing over the whole task, and only doing what I've been asked. I must follow his leadership even if I disagree because he is the one in control.
With God, I have to decide who I want to be in control of my life. The one who knows everything, understands everything and loves me, or myself, the one with in the back seat who can't see much through all the seats, head rests and pillows (because there are always pillows in my way, don't ask). I must stop assuming I know all, stop trying to figure things out on my own, and let Him be the one who keeps me on track. All with my mouth closed, after all if I truly trusted, would I have anything to say?

Chocolate Frozen Yogurt

My heater is on, I'm in long sleeves, pants and sox, and the sky is cloudy, but dog on it, it is June and I wanted to make frozen yogurt. Ever since I started buying whole milk plain yogurt, the frozen treat has been beckoning me. Today, I gave in and decided to go for it, winter weather and all.
I was not planning on making chocolate, but in a moment of brief insanity, I asked my son what he wanted. And just like his mama would have said at his age, chocolate was the flavor of choice. I actually wanted strawberry, which I will have to make another day. I started by looking at two recipes on line, but didn't like the sound of either. They used either to much milk, heavy cream or to many eggs. What's a girl to do? Throw out the recipe's and play of course. The result is a tart, creamy and very chocolaty frozen yogurt that is begging for fresh raspberries and whipped cream.

Chocolate Frozen Yogurt
1/2 cup milk
2 Tbs cocoa (heaping)
2/3 cup sugar (I used sugar in the raw)
1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips ( preferably a higher quality like Trader Joe's)
1 egg yolk, whisked
2 1/2 cups whole plain yogurt
1 tsp vanilla

Heat milk in heavy saucepan over medium heat, whisk in cocoa and sugar until smooth. Add chocolate and whisk till smooth. Add two to three table spoons of hot chocolate mixture to egg and whisk to temper. Add egg to chocolate and whisk. Remove from heat. Fold chocolate mixture and vanilla into yogurt. Refrigerate till cool, approximately 1 hour. Pour chocolate yogurt into ice cream maker and follow manufacturer's instructions. Store in freezer in an air tight container.

Dreams come true even at two

I just asked my two year old daughter what she wanted to wear. We walked over to the closet and she grabbed a dress and said, " my dream, my dress". Who would have thought she would have found her dream dress at 2.

Celebrating an Old Holiday in New Ways

No excuses, but I didn't get to post this when I wanted....
Easter... Since I can remember, that word didn't have zing or excitement associated with it. Granted, I have always understood what Easter is truly about, and have truly believed and rested my hope on all that it stands for, but as a holiday, it just wasn't anything that got me jumping. I can't even remember anything we did for Easter as a child or in the last four years for that matter. I know we always went to church, and usually ate a meal, but that is all I can remember.

Thanksgiving... Now that is a holiday that I get excited about. Turkey, family and the avoidance of the commercialism that most other holidays have been tainted by. I've  learned to embrace Thanksgiving and it's purity and simplicity. The result is a fabulous time spent with my dear family surrounded by good food and even greater conversation, and a sense of guilt. As I began claiming Thanksgiving as my mantra or "my holiday" I found that for some reason I also began feeling guilty around Easter. What is it that Thanksgiving and Christmas have that Easter doesn't? Why wasn't I excited to celebrate to celebrate Easter?
This year, I was determined to make Easter important. I began by looking up ways and ideas for celebrating Easter that would be significant. Scoured the internet for ideas about how to get the kids involved, and how to make each thing we did relate back to what Easter is really about. I came up with a few ideas and found that I was suddenly excited about Easter. What was different? During my search for ideas, I read on someone's blog and they commented on how we should put as much energy and time into Easter as we do Christmas. There was my answer. It wasn't about time, it was about investment. I loved Thanksgiving because I had an investment in it. I start thinking about Thanksgiving in December. Yes, a month hasn't even passed before I am longing to be sitting around the table, stuffed with cranberries turkey and my absolute favorite, mashed potatoes and gravy. I am weird, long before school starts, I start thinking about the menu, what recipes I haven't tried and when is it to early to call my aunt (we go to my aunt's for Thanksgiving every year). I am excited about Thanksgiving because I put effort and forethought into Thanksgiving.  And so with Easter, I found that the more forethought and effort I put into Easter, the more excited I got. This is the first year that I felt like I truly celebrated Easter.
It is due to my excitement that I must share the ways we celebrated Easter. This year was a tester year. We tried multiple ideas out to see what worked for us. In the end, I was pleasantly surprised, and to my delight, I have already started thinking about next year.
Here is the list of what we did, and how we felt they worked for us ( two adults, a 4yr old, 2 yr old and infant).
1.  Gift Baskets for the neighbors.
Since Easter is about celebrating the gift of life, I thought that sharing that gift with other people would be an important part of celebrating. So, we collected different items and made gift baskets to give to some of our neighbors. This years baskets included: a candle to represent the Christ's light shining in us, a journal that said hope, to remind us of the hope we have in Christ, a potted flower to represent new life, dyed eggs that had phrases of hope and joy on them, a verse about our joy in Christ and chocolates.
I loved the gift baskets, and we will do them every year. It was a wonderful way to talk about Easter and teach my kids not only about the hope we have, but that we are called to share our hope with those around us. I will never forget sitting with my family praying over each basket as we made them, explaining how each item represented something significant. Each step in the process was significant from having my 4 year old son chose the verse cards and gluing them them together to walking to each neighbor after we prayed for them. We will make a few changes next year. First, we will pass them out sooner so that we have enough time to invite them to the Easter Hunt that our church puts on. Second, we will make our own chocolates. I want to make chocolate crosses so I can talk about how we are molded into the image of Christ.

2. Resurrection rolls

For breakfast Easter morning, we made resurrection rolls. Although sticky and delicious, I did not feel that the kids found it to be meaningful. I am hoping to try the resurrection cookies next year instead. (For recipe, see: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/resurrection-rolls/Detail.aspx and http://www.kintera.org/atf/cf/%7B8E975F2E-4C1C-4315-AAFF-34A97EB367B5%7D/Resurrection_Cookies.pdf)

3. Passover Meal
I was the most excited about the passover style meal. Oddly enough, this was the biggest flop. I planned a meal with lamb, charoset, matzos, bitter herbs, salt water and grape juice so that I could talk about the sacrifice that Christ made for us. What I found was that hungry kids want to eat and that the time spent explaining the significants was lost in the hustle and bustle of the meal. Though I will do lamb every year (I will use any excuse to eat lamb), I will not incorporate a passover meal into our Easter. Next year I plan to do a simple communion with the family.

4. Foot washing
I am still amazed at how meaningful this experience was. My children are still asking to do it again. In our house, the most common words I hear are : me, mine, and I'm first. I have truly struggled with how to teach my children what it means to serve one another.


When I saw the idea for foot washing it seemed natural for me. It was probably because foot washing was the gift I gave to my husband the night we were married (I had towels made and my first act as his wife was washing his feet as a symbol of my love and desire to serve him in love.) But for some reason, I put it on the back of my list, thinking, yeah if we get to it. As our evening closed, my husband reminded me of the foot washing and so began a memory to last forever. We  brought out a bowl, pitcher and lots of towels one of which was the towel I had made for my husband. We gathered around, and my husband and I explained how Christ came not to be served but to serve, how He died for as as an act of love and service and how He calls us to serve one another. I also explained that the bible says that the "first shall be last", that part of serving is letting others go first. My "I'm first" son's eye's lit up. He proceeded to list the order that we should wash each other's feet in, with him being last. Without knowing it, I had finally gotten through to my son that being first isn't always important. I will never forget those moments of washing each other's feet. I can still see my son and daughter's small hands carefully washing my feet, pouring water and taking turns drying. This will be our family's tradition for years to come. Serving in love.

Next Easter I am looking forward to another list of things to try, some old, some new but each one a chance to experience an old holiday in new ways.


If you are looking for more creative ways to celebrate Easter, I found the following blog wonderful and the inspiration of many if not all of the ways we celebrated this year:  http://www.aholyexperience.com/

What's a Mom to Do?

Ahhh, Thursdays. The day of the week that haunts me. Preparation is futile, I seem to always sink on Thursdays. Today was no exception. Although the day started out with something amazing and out of the ordinary, a shower, moments of calm were no where to be found. Ok, so the shower was nice. I don't get those in the morning very often, and my husband even made breakfast which helped me get all three of the kids out of the house and to school early. Yahooo! Don't remember the last time I got to school when I wanted to. But that was the beginning of the end. After getting all three kids out of the car, and the stroller mostly loaded up for a morning of activities, I go to bible study at the church where my son's school meets, I realized I was missing one very vital piece of the puzzle- the diaper bag. Quickly I threw the kids back in the car, listened to the annoying kids music over my daughter's screaming and raced back home, knowing that I wouldn't be able to join my son for the parent participation focus of the morning. Oh, well. Deep breaths and I moved on.
The rest of my morning went as Thursday mornings go, and I left the school, cramming four cranky, hot and hungry people into my swaggered wagon past the usual lunch and nap time. As I rushed home, my mind went over the usual options... feed the baby first or the kids first? What to eat? Do I have any milk left? Who should I get out of the car first? (yes, it can require strategic planning depending on who is screaming, who has to pee and who is just annoying me the most.). As I struggle getting three writhing body's into the house without letting the 90 degree weather in, I unloaded a morning's worth of crap in my entry way. And there the crap stayed. Somehow I made a meal while holding a crying baby, fed four people and survived lunch without crying. The kitchen and dining room did not survive.
As if just getting four people fed wasn't enough, I then had to get two of them to bed. One of which is a little Houdini. We have to sew here Pj's shut just to keep her from pooping and smearing it all over the walls. Today, I thought I would see if we could get away with not sewing her. Nope! Thankfully, right after I got the baby to sleep, I caught my daughter just as she was taking off her diaper to investigate her paint prospects. Ahhh, crisis averted.
Now, on to my to do list... water garden, do dishes, sew patch on to canvas... oh wait, that is a lot more than I had bargained for.... I now have a blister on my finger from cramming a large needle through stubborn fabric. Thankfully, I know where that needle is, unlike the one I lost in my daughter's room when I sewed her pj's up... not sure what to do with that one.
By this time, my son has asked me for a snack about 75 times, has yelled, sang and stomped next to his sleeping sister's room and strewn toys across the house. My nerves are becoming more and more frazzled. The girls both wake up crying. My two-year old proceeds to cry like I am jamming bamboo down her fingernails for the next 20 minutes. As I continue to guide the stubborn needle in and out of the even more stiff fabric, I assess whether or not the popsicle in my daughter's hand is dripping on the furniture, hoping her brother will just leave her alone so I don't have to hear her squeal like a pig being slaughtered again.
Deep breath, and now to make dinner. Thankfully I have a gift for making something out of nothing, and somehow pull together a delicious stir fry from my empty pantry. Just as my wonderful composition was coming together, my little world came to a grinding halt. There on the wall of my son's room was his artistic rendition of the stairway to heaven. I'd like to say my heart sank in my chest, but truthfully, by that time my heart was numb from a day of being barraged by the constant pokes and pricks of three kids. The numbness quickly wore off as my son proceeded to show me the rest of his artistic escapade. To the sound of my wonderful dinner burning, I watched as my son showed me his swirls, lines and sketches in bold black crayon on the walls, growth chart, bed, dresser, door, and toy chest. Deep breath, count to 10.  There was my four year old with a half smile on his face, pride oozing out as he showed me all that he had done.What is a mom to do?
The answer, thanks to a little help from my dad, my son is now sleeping on the floor. All that is left in his room is his dresser and the crib for his sister. And now here I sit. A table covered in spaghetti sauce from last night, beans from lunch and noodles from dinner. Three counters full of dishes, books, toys from my son's room and trash from the day. A floor covered in clothes, blankets, stuffed animals, more books, diaper bags, car seat, and whatever else I had to drag out of my son's room. A coffee table full of books, old diapers, broken diapers, toys and my sewing project. Here I sit, one frazzled, tired but alive mama. What's a mom to do?