Fuel by Barbara

Moving Day!!!

2012-01-02T13:47:00.002-05:00

Today is the big day! The new blog is up and running. Want to come over and see the new digs? Check it out at the new Fuel by Barbara

I will not be deleting this blog, but I will also not be updating here with new posts. All the content of this blog has been moved over to the new site so you should be able to find all the old articles over there.

Please change your bookmarks and subscription details to the new address, and we'll see you over there for all your favourite features: Heard at My House and Foodie Fridays to name just a couple.

Thank you so much for coming by and reading my little blog. It is very humbling, and a real joy to be able to share this conversation with you.

Blessings!

Open Letter to a Jogger Guy

2011-12-31T05:00:00.001-05:00

Originally Posted May 26, 2011

Dear Jogger Guy:

I need to start by apologizing. My sincerest apologies for looking like a terrified deer-in-headlights when you jogged towards me the other night. I don't believe that an apology that blames the other person is a true apology, but in this case, I'm going to totally blame you and hope that it still counts as an apology of sorts.

Here's the deal: I'm not a total scaredy-cat. Really I'm not. But I do have an overactive imagination fueled by horrible novel selections by high school English teachers (who really should have known better) and poorly chosen television viewing habits in my university days. I am not a conspiracy theorist, but I do sort of expect that there could very well be danger lurking under every bush.

And you weren't under a bush: you were running straight down the sidewalk towards me: menacingly, with an air of malevolence and guilt. Or potential guilt. Maybe you hadn't committed a crime yet, but you sure could have.

You see, if clothes make the man, your clothes made you a bank robber. No word of a lie. You ought to consider things like that when you get dressed for a run. In May. On a warm night.

Why were you wearing a black skull cap covering all your hair? Why were you wearing a black shirt and black shorts and black socks? Why were you wearing a black balaclava?

Well, okay: that was my first mistake. Or maybe not my first, but certainly my biggest. It wasn't a balaclava, but it sure looked like one from a distance. Turns out that what I thought was a black, menacing ski mask was actually,...

*ahem*

...an inordinate amount of facial hair.

Seriously. Dude. What's with the pitch black, thick rimmed glasses, and bushy black eyebrows, and FULL.BLACK.BEARD that covers, essentially, everything but your nose and eyelids? From a distance, all I could see was the whites of your eyes, the tip of your nose and a sliver of your mouth: which wasn't smiling, and that would have helped, just so you know.

So as I walked off the sidewalk and onto the bike path to get out of the way of impeding mugging, please forgive me. I should have expected better of you. And as I, likely audibly, sighed with relief as you passed me, please forgive my prejudice.

But really, give a girl a helping hand and at least wear a t-shirt with a big, yellow smiley face. Or leave the black hat at home. Or trim your beard. Or carry a sign that says, "I am not a crook". Any of those small changes would be considered an act of community-mindedness, and would likely decrease the chances of you experiencing a false arrest sometime in your life.

On a positive note, you have a great stride. And if you had committed a crime, I bet you could have outrun your pursuers. Nicely done.

Deal or No Deal

2011-12-30T06:00:00.000-05:00

Originally Posted September 5, 2009

Setting: idyllic farmers' market. Bustling early morning crowd. The aroma of freshly picked peaches. Vendors calling out their prices for "the market's best corn". Bushels of colour. Children reaching for the plumpest raspberries.

I am looking at melons.

I notice a lovely barrel full of Cantalope. Beside it an equally lovely barrel full of watermelon. Behind these barrels are two vendors. I approach them, and notice the sign advertising the prices.

Watermelons: $1.99

Excellent. I place 2 in my bag.

Cantalopes: $0.75 each, or 2 for $1.50

I pause. That isn't a deal, I think to myself. That's just the same. Cheap, but the same. Not a deal.

The vendor notices my hesitation. "75 cents a piece, or 2 for a buck 50."

"Yes," I say. "That's right. But, that's the same. That's not a deal."

I put 3 in my bag, wondering whether to get a 4th, or put one back and stick with 2.

"I'll give you 4 for 3 bucks", he says.

"I know you will. Because that's the same," I say, incredulous. "That's not a deal..."

I take the four, knowing that it was a good price, but not a "deal". Confusedly, I walk away, wondering if he knew his error, or if he thought I was just very bad at bargaining at the market.

Mental note: Some things aren't cheaper by the dozen. Sometimes buying in bulk isn't any cheaper at all.

Well, At Least He Didn't Hang Himself

2011-12-29T06:00:00.000-05:00

Originally Posted June 7, 2008

Our lovely family was to go to homeschool soccer last night, 33 degree temperatures not withstanding. And I, in my new found "let's not be an out-of-shape mom" phase decided that while my incredible husband drove 5 of the children to the field here in town, I would walk with the youngest two in my prized double stroller.

Now let me tell you about this double stroller: I LOVE it. It has been my source of sanity for the last 8 years. My blessed mommy bought it for me the Christmas I was expecting my second child, and I cried with glee. That was also been the Christmas that my blessed mom-in-law bought me the world's greatest breast pump. I cried over that too. I was pretty desperate for the right tools to do my job and a pump and a stroller fit the bill. But I digress. That stroller saved my life. It freed me to leave the house when I was going stir crazy in the spring. It made errands easier by walking instead of buckling and unbuckling children in the car a million times. I used it to hold 3 children actually. When we had our 3rd, our 1st was still only 2 (whoa) and so I could get all 3 of them in and still pound the pavement.

And pound it I did. For two years we had no car at all (except on weekends when we borrowed our fantastic parents' van...and yes I meant the parents are fantastic...the van was too, but the parents take the cake). I would walk EVERY DAY just because I could with 2, 3, and then 4 children all the way from our little house to the nearest grocery store. Looking back to that big city walk from the perspective of a now small town girl, I can't imagine what I was thinking taking such little people across such ridiculously busy corners....however, we survived. I also used that stroller as a means of getting my groceries home from that store. On several occasions I would walk to the store with an empty stroller and come home with it loaded to the brim with 2 weeks' worth of food. Good times.

Then there was the time that we accidentally left the stroller behind at a splash pad. I thought Chris put it in the back of the van. He thought I did. It was left on the wet concrete pad at a very busy place in said big city. I freaked out when I realized it was gone. Chris did too, but only because his WALLET WAS IN IT. I thought "who cares about your wallet. We can replace the cards. I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT THAT STROLLER!!!" Slight overreaction. still.

Thankfully some kindly lady took it to her house and left a note at the park saying that if someone lost a stroller we could retrieve it from her house. So glad we got there first!

And now, after 7 kids, the stroller is getting old. When I put groceries in the storage basket in the bottom it drags on the sidewalk (really annoying). And when I tried to fold it up to fit in the van, it doesn't exactly work as smoothly as it once did. But she's a beauty.

So back to last night. In my energetic frenzy I smartly put the not quite 2 year old in the front as usual and laid the wee baby down in the back. One of the things I love about this stroller is how excellently the back lays down. One hand control, a foot rest that comes up and "locks in place" to hold the baby nice and horizontal, and the very all-covering sunshade ensures that the baby can rest without the sun beating down on his face. Many a nap has been had in that stroller. Our 2nd born even slept in it overnight once in a hotel in Ottawa many moons ago. Love.this.stroller.

I was really truckin' it. I love walking. I love walking fast. It is as close to athletic as I ever get. Suddenly, my boy is crying. Funny, he never cries in the stroller. Heck, he practically never cries at all. Wisely, I stop (once I've finished crossing the train tracks) to check on the boy. Remember: I can't see him due to the all-covering sunshade.

The foot rest, after 7 children and 8 years, apparently had enough last night. It 'unlocked' and there was my wee boy, all of 4 months old today, sitting in the storage basket under the stroller with his head firmly wedged under the front seat where his tender scalp was being, well, scalped. nice. Praise the Lord my other children weren't with me, because 1) this is the kind of thing that just adds fuel to the "look at the freaky family with 7 kids" thing that I am always paranoid about (remember the Tim Hortons/Walmart fiasco?) and 2) I think I said a bad word....out loud.

So after rescuing him from the basket that (remember?) drags on the ground when weight is put into it and kissing the scratches on his scalp, I put him in the front seat that reclines slightly with a more sturdy support between his legs and put child #6 in the back where she could just sit and continue sipping her water bottle like nothing had happened.

Now what, you may be asking, was the title to this post all about? I'm thinking that it is a good thing I didn't buckle him in because when he slipped down, I'm envisioning the seatbelt getting quite snuggly wrapped around his neck. So it could have been worse.

sigh. A day in my life. Gotta love a laugh at the "mother of the year"! I'm considering adding a "donate here" button on the side bar of this blog so that you can all contribute to a new stroller for me. Any takers :-)

Heard at My House - The Existential Edition

2011-12-27T06:00:00.002-05:00

Originally Posted January 27, 2011

A: I just don't know what I'd feel like if I wasn't a person.

Me: Sorry. What?

A: I mean, if I wasn't me, and I wasn't someone else, and I wasn't a thing. I just don't know what that would feel like.

Me: Okay. You need to explain that a little more. Do you mean, like if you were some other person?

A: No. Like, I just think there is a person for everybody.

Me: Do you mean, "a soul for every body"?

A: No. I guess...well, I don't know...I mean...

Me: Do you mean, if your dad and I didn't have you would you still be somewhere else?

A: I don't know. I just mean if, I just...Well, I don't know how I'd feel.... Oh, I don't understand what I mean either.

(mental note: I'm not sure which of my university studies would have been more helpful in this conversation: Psych 020 or a reading of Waiting for Godot.)

Honouring

2011-12-26T06:00:00.000-05:00

Originally Posted February 28, 2010
(Update: My mom served my grandma well, just like this post describes, right until she passed away on December 24th, 2011)

My Grandmother is 91. When I was little, she was old. She's always been old. I remember when she would go out on my great-uncle's fishing boat for the day with my Grandpa. I remember thinking, "Someone needs to tell her she's too old to do that. That's not safe." She was in her 60's... I guess that seemed old when I was 8.

She has always had gray hair that my mom would put in rollers for her. Little pokey black rollers with metal brush-hairs to keep her short little hair nicely fluffy. She was super cute. My mom would stand behind her, and Grandma, seated and holding the bag of rollers in her lap, would pass them over her shoulder, one at a time, to my mom.

Grandma loved going shopping with my Grandpa. They would just spend the day tooling around and eating at Bob's Fish and Chips on Hamilton Road. Some days they'd pick up Mary Brown's Chicken to eat at home on TV trays, watching a Blue Jays game.

When my Grandpa was dying of cancer, she cared for him at home, administering many, many pills and cooking several meals a day trying to find something, anything that would taste good to my Grandpa. And when he would fall asleep in his hospital cot they had set up in the guest room, Grandma would sleep on the single guest bed, holding his hand through the hospital bed bars. Then in the morning, Grandpa would say "Mary, I think there's room up here for you if I squeeze over a bit." And so, they'd have a little snuggle before starting another day of pills and no appetite.

When my Grandpa died of his cancer, my Grandma said, "I'll never be as happy again as I was with Ed, but I'll be as happy as I can."

Somewhere during these last 15 years since Grandpa died, Grandma forgot that optimistic outlook. Grandma has forgotten quite a bit, actually.

And so, as she is forgetting where she put her keys ("There, on your wrist on the elastic, Grandma, like they always are."), or when she moved into this new apartment ("19 months ago, Grandma"), or why she can't go home ("Well, you sold the house a decade ago, Grandma"), or even if she ate breakfast, lunch, and supper today, my Mom and Dad, and my aunt and uncle are caring for her and honouring her in the most tireless, loving, compassionate way.

My pastor recently looked at the fifth commandment, as we have been studying the Ten Commandments, in which we are called to Honour our fathers and mothers. My Mom is doing a brilliant job of honouring her mom in these, potentially, last days for my Grandma. She visits almost everyday (except for the days my uncle visits), does her laundry (even though the staff at Grandma's home would do it...Grandma just feels strange letting strangers touch her laundry), answers dozens of phone calls a day some days, and takes homemade cookies and fresh fruit for her to nibble on when she can't remember that she's eaten today. She even still does my Grandma's hair up in rollers, even though now, for the first time in decades, my Grandma is too tired to pass the rollers over her shoulder. She often falls asleep in the chair while my Mom puts her hair up.

What is remarkable to me in all this is not that my Mom is loving her mom so beautifully. That's not surprising. What is surprising is how she is able to consistently serve her with patience and love even when my Grandma gets tired and cranky and ungrateful. And even when my Grandma forgets who my Mom is. Somehow, my Grandma remembers that she has a daughter named Linda. She just can't connect the fact that this lady who comes every day, is her daughter Linda. My Mom just puts on a brave face and reminds her. "I am your Linda, Mom. I am your Linda." And even when Grandma forgets and calls her by another name, or asks my Mom, "When will Linda come and see me?" for the hundredth time, my Mom still honours her, and loves her, and serves her.

When I ask her why she keeps going and how she keeps going, my Mom just smiles and says, "My Mom has taken such good care of me for so long, and put up with me when I was sick, and cranky, and grumpy, and ungrateful, and undeserving of being loved. She is a woman who deserves to be honoured. She's my Mom."

Lord, make me a woman who is humble enough and others-centered enough to honour other women in my life. And make me a mother who is easy for her kids to honour as I age because of how I cared for them in their early years. I pray my daughters and my sons would honour me because I have earned and kept their genuine love and admiration, not merely their biblical duty. And bless my Mom and Dad today in a special way, giving them endurance and longsuffering as they sacrificially care for my Grandma. And for the other women I know who are caring for their elderly parents, Lord I pray for them too, that you would give them an extra measure of mercy and patience as they love those you've entrusted to them.

Wow-ful Women Wednesday Christmas Edition

2011-12-25T06:00:00.000-05:00

Originally Posted December 15, 2010 (Made it to 3:28 before I cried this time...and that only because I was setting the table for lunch during the first 3 minutes!) :-)

This song was brand new to me last year, and I posted it near Christmas. I do believe it bears re-posting. I still always think I can get through this song dry-eyed, and everytime I'm wrong.

A Baby Changes Everything -- Faith Hill

Christmas Countdown

2011-12-24T06:00:00.002-05:00

Originally Posted December 13, 2010 (Still gives me chills every time!)

There are some Christmas songs that everyone covers because they are just that good. This is one of them. But there is something about this version, sung by the lyricist himself, that makes it my favourite version of it. Ever. Mark Lowry sings his song slower than most. And he sings it like he's really speaking to Mary, and really just as awed as she must have been to find out just who her son truly was.

Christmas Story, Daily Truth

2011-12-23T06:00:00.000-05:00

Originally Posted December 23rd, 2006

Whether you recall Linus' recitation in a Charlie Brown Christmas, or whether you numbly listen to it being read again this Christmas Eve service, Luke 2 is probably pretty familiar territory. Maybe it is so familiar, that like me you have come to only think of those precious words in terms of a quiet stable, a quiet sheepfold, and a baby laying silently in a mound of hay.

Last Sunday, my pastor challenged my understanding, and opened my eyes to a spiritual truth in that simple story that I need to meditate on daily; that if I really grasp it, will change my every moment from here on. (You can listen to his sermon here: http://wlachurch.org/resources/WLA_560.mp3 but finish reading my blog first!)

In case there is anyone actually reading this blog, outside of the 5 close friends and family that I know check in here periodically, allow me to introduce a bit of my personality to you. I am a woman driven by fear: fear of circumstances, fear of failing, fear of people, fear of man's opinions, fear of all the 'what if's' of this life...Fear.

If the fear of man is a snare, then I am a little fox with her poor ankle smashed nearly irreparably in its hinges. (and no, that does not make me a foxy mama).

But the insight I gained on Sunday may have begun the freedom and release from fear that I need. Let me explain.

Luke 2 finds us out in the field with the shepherds watching over their flocks by night. Sound familiar yet? I'm sure you remember that when the angels appeared, the shepherds were "sore afraid". So what do the angels say? Pretty sensibly, and predictably they say "Fear Not, for I bring you good news of Great Joy that is for all people. For today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior who is Christ the Lord.". Okay. I get that. Angels talking to shepherds 2000 years ago about their immediate need. Doesn't really apply to me.

But our pastor read it this way, "I say to you TODAY "Fear not, for I bring YOU good news of Great Joy, that is for ALL PEOPLE (including you and me). For on THAT DAY in the city of David there has been born for YOU a Savior who is Christ the Lord."

Oh. So something about that baby being born way back then has something to do with me not fearing. Well, sure. I know, He is my Savior so on the Last Day when I stand at Judgement I don't need to fear because Christ saved me from my sins. But what about today? What about everyday between now and then?

The Westminster Cathechism says that Christ has three offices: Prophet, Priest, and King. So on that day in the city of David not only was my Savior born but also my Prophet, Priest and King.

The Cathechism says that I need Christ to be Prophet because I am ignorant; Priest, because I am guilty, and King because I am weak and helpless. Sounds like the roots of all my fears.

So Lord, let me meditate, live in, dwell on, hold fast to, love, and soak in the truth that I can Fear Not. You were born not only to be the Savior from my sins and to free me from the condemnation of Judgement at the Last Day, but also to be the Prophet to teach me the Will of God everyday, the Priest to forgive my sins everyday, and the King to rule and defend me everyday.

That should all add up to a very Merry Christmas, and the happiest of all New Years.

Clean Floors

2011-12-22T06:00:00.000-05:00

Originally Posted March 29, 2010

How often do you wash your kitchen floor? I mean, really clean them. Not just run-the-Swiffer-over-them clean, or kind-of-sweep-them clean, but on-your-hands-and-knees-hot-and-soapy-water clean?

Rarely, if I'm being honest. But I would like to tell you about how it came about that I washed my floors like that on Christmas Eve morning.

Faithful readers here may recall that months ago I promised a series of blog posts, one inspirational and one funny. The inspirational one has been posted: today's is the funny one. (That was your prompt and licence to laugh at me with great vigor!).

Imagine with me, if you will, what a typical Christmas Eve morning is like. As I see it, there are two options. It can be an idyllic, quiet, contemplative time around the tree, with hot apple cider in one hand, Bible in the other, and good snacks (post-delicious brunch, of course) always in easy reach. The children are contentedly playing, loving on one another with the compassion of Mother Theresa, the housework and gift-making are caught up, and the Roast Beast is simmering in a red wine flavoured broth preparing for a magical, culinary experience. We are patiently, yet breathlessly awaiting the candle-light service at the church. The children all say, "Santa who?" and instead prepare cards and gifts for the birth of Christ the King. All is right with the world.

That is option one. That was not our reality this year.

Christmas Eve was a Thursday in 2009, as you may recall. That is only significant in that my daughter's flyer route needs to be worked on Thursdays. Only. Period. Wednesday or Friday delivery of flyers constitutes grounds for immediate dismissal. Thursday morning it is.

Plus, this was the year that I jumped back into the world of "Church Drama" and was preparing for the second night of Christmas Plays. Let's just sum that up by saying my brain is not as sharp as it was 7 children and 11 years ago! Hello, Memory? Anyone home? Right. Didn't think so.

Plus, this was the year our church jumped back into the world of "Choir", which is such a highlight for me that I may need to do an entire post on choir someday. This required me to go through an intense period of humbling as I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, hairbrush in hand (to my mouth, of course), repeatedly asking myself if I have any clue how to sing!

Plus, this was the year that I decided to be a mock-athelete and began running for the first time since the boys in the playground were throwing rocks at me.

Plus, this was the year that I thought I should really try to sew some lovely bags for some people I love as gifts. Like my Grandma. Who I would be seeing tomorrow. Whose bag I hadn't started yet. Oops.

And so it was, that I was in a very happy place that Christmas Eve morning doing a lot of things I loved and enjoyed, but found my mind a wee distracted...

The whole gang of us piled in to the van first thing in the morning, and delivered my eldest's 95 flyers, in record time, glad for the nice weather. Then we came home to realize the basement was about to be declared a national emergency site due to the unusually large amount of toys strewn around. So here I am in the kitchen, beginning lunch, barking orders for the basement to be cleaned, kissing my husband who just came home from his morning at the office, putting the baby down for his nap, and thinking the breakfast dishes should be washed, and then thinking I should go and check on the cleaning efforts in the basement.

As I go down to check on the basement overhaul, I realize that my physical presence there with them may be the thing to speed their endeavor, and so I sit and check email. It is in the email that my fate was sealed, I believe. My lovely friend, Kristina who I love, sent me a link to a stunning video of Celtic Woman singing "O Holy Night". Stunning. I sat spell-bound for the 5 minutes of vocal bliss. My bliss was radically, sharply, disasterously ended by my 8 year old's cherubic voice, innocently asking me, "Mommy, what is that water?"

Water? What water? And so I look in to the (praise the Lord) unfinished part of our basement to see water, no sheets of water, falling, pouring, gushing out of my duct work. Did I say gushing? I meant flooding. Rapidly. And spreading fast. Now there is a leak over our freezer. Now it is coming out over the laundry area.

My dear husband is wondering if a pipe froze and burst. "Where is this water coming from?" he cries? "Go make sure everything is off while I shut of the main!"

And my dear oldest daughter says, "Mom! I saw you turn on the kitchen sink!" She flies up the stairs to turn off the kitchen sink, but before she can reach the faucet she falls squarely on her heiny. The water has flooded the counter, and spilled, hot and soapy, all over the kitchen floor. Should I remind the gentle reader here that we have porcelain tiles in our kitchen? Mental note to self: porcelain tiles + hot, soapy water = ice rink.

So as 7 children are screaming "GET MORE TOWELS!!" and "EMPTY THE GARBAGE PAILS TO CATCH THE WATER!!!" I am trying to remember when exactly I turned the sink on. Clearly, somewhere in the "I thought I should wash the breakfast dishes" moment, I actually plugged the sink, squirted in the soap, and turned the tap on full hot.

And now I am sitting on the floor, sopping up water from the inside of my cabinets, and the drawers and the entire kitchen counter, trying really hard not to say out loud any of the names I'm calling myself in my head because there are 14 little eyes and ears watching and listeing to see how mom reacts in a crisis.

At one point, my 8 year old who is notorious for saying the funniest things without trying to be funny, is in a full out fit worrying about how this is going to play out, says with great fervor, "And Mom, this better not become a Facebook Status, because this is *NOT* funny!"

Soon, the basement is dried up, the kitchen is dried up, my husband is reassuring the 8 year old that the house is fine, and sound, and no damage done. I am hiding in the garage, giving full vent to all the pent up rage and self-disgust I previously held inside. I hear my husband's loving voice ask one of the girls, "Where's your mom?" and I get the courage to come in and dry my eyes on his shirt collar. He is half laughing at me, half consoling me. I need both to get through this.

I figured I had ruined Christmas Eve. What happened instead was my kids saw that even "the best mom in the world" makes stupid mistakes, which gives them the freedom to try and fail too. And my kitchen floor got "on-your-hands-and-knees-hot-and-soapy-water clean".

All in all, it was the perfect Christmas Eve morning.

True Confessions

2011-12-21T06:00:00.003-05:00

Originally Posted December 15, 2009 (Let's have a few Christmas related posts now, shall we?)

I am not as cranky as I like to give myself credit for. I suppose I like the idea, in a sick, twisted kind of way, of being an old, grumpy, curmudgeon. You know, except with a soft and sweet interior that only certain people can unearth by a touch or a song, or a well-timed box of chocolates and a non-fat, no-whip mocha.

But I digress.

I find I'm smiling a lot lately. And I'm of two minds about why this is: First, I've been practicing. No, I'm not kidding. Our church is putting on a Christmas play, and I'm cast as a happy person. So I need to practice smiling. And making it look natural. I've worked myself up into many a headache this month by oversmiling. Just like on my wedding day, when, had the photographer asked us to pose for one more shot, I would have popped a vein in my forehead. Chris and I both showed up for our dinner asking our guests if anyone had Tylenol in their purses. That was A LOT of smiling.

This December has been much the same.

Now, secondly, I'm smiling a lot because, wait for it, I'm actually a pretty happy person. And why not? There is a lot to be happy about. And even the things that maybe aren't so happyifying are there to give me a chance to practice more smiling. And to find something happy in it.

So try this: Next time you go to the Superstore on a Saturday afternoon 2 weeks before Christmas because you need just a couple of things, for goodness sake don't try to find a parking spot up close. Don't even look. It will stress you out and steal your joy. Just go to the back of the lot, on purpose, find a nice open spot along the back of the property and deeply breathe in the crisp air as you saunter towards the store. And when you walk past 3 spots that are closer, don't chide yourself for not parking there: smile, and be glad that someone else will have the happy moment of finding that good spot.

That's just one little tiny thing you can do to make yourself smile. What about actually asking the girl behind the clothing store counter who has been on her feet in the hot mall listening to canned Christmas music for 72 hours straight, and who has been dealing with cranky curmudgeons, what about asking her how she is doing, and what her plans are for the 25th? You could just do that. And smile at her too, okay? She has not been smiled at enough today.

What about when you see someone in a store, or at work, or at church who looks really pretty, or they are wearing a lovely scarf, TELL THEM!!! Oh please, just tell, even a complete stranger "I really like your scarf. It looks so pretty." You will make their day!

I don't have any empirical data on this next one, but men, I have it on good authority that you like to DO something to feel smiley. Grand. How about returning someone's shopping cart in that crazy busy parking lot for them? Or how about bringing up your neighbours recycling and garbage bins to their garage door. Wouldn't this be nice? It will make you smile, and of course it will make them smile (unless you live next door to a cranky person, but maybe you are the one to coax their inner smiler out!).

What I would love is for all of us to gather at some point and talk about how many headaches we've had this Christmas, not on account of too much stress and not enough sleep, but rather on account of so much smiling!

Try it! And I tell you what; I'll just give up my grumpy facade if you will! Let's show our neighbours and co-workers and family members just how happy we are, and show them that there is always something to smile about, no matter how tricky things seem.

Really, if nothing else, if you really can't think of anything else smile-worthy, you can think of the best smile-making thing of all time: the celebration of the birth of Jesus, and all that that entails. Can you think of anything better? What's making you smile these days?

Hands And Feet

2011-12-20T06:00:00.001-05:00

Originally Posted August 4, 2009 (this one still makes me cry tears of gratefulness as I remember)

This has been a complicated week in our house. On top of the regular busy of our family, we've added another layer of busy in the health and wellness department. My husband has been laid out with excruciating back pain, resulting from some disc herniation. Suffice it to say, our home life has looked really different for the last week after a few months of building up to an acute climax.

I shared our struggles at our church music team practice on Saturday night. I told them the ins and outs of what was going on in our home. And they prayed for our family. For health, strength, patience, endurance; for the ability to hear the Lord speaking through this time of trial. It was very helpful. Very moving.

That same night, the members of the team gave some good advice from their experience with similar health concerns. They offered to help however they could. I assumed that would be the end of it.

I was wrong.

Sunday morning, I was commiserating with the wife of one of the team members about needing to go home and make lunch. I wish I had a magic fairy to wave a wand and make it for me, I said. We laughed. Then I went to Remark to find a fantastic loaf of bread to stretch my salad that I was making. I comtemplated buying a rotisserie chicken there too, but didn't. Tempting; also expensive, long line up, kids waiting in the car. *sigh* maybe I can figure out the bbq when I get home and cook the kabobs in the freezer.

As I am approaching my house, I notice I am being followed by a familiar van. She pulls right into my drive way behind me. It is the lady I was speaking to about lunch. "We knew how difficult things must be in your house when there is a parent down and , and we both really wanted to do something to help out in a small way, so would you let us serve you today by giving you this." And she hands me a steaming hot bag from Swiss Chalet. Buns, baked potatoes, french fries, 6 pieces of chicken, and of course, my favourite, the dipping sauce. "It might not be enough to feed your whole crew but add it to your bread and see if the Lord will multiply your loaves and chicken", she smiles.

I weep.

Unable to even a little bit compose myself, we hug and I squeeze a thank you out between tears. She smiles and says your welcome.

As we are eating this feast, there is a knock on the door. A man from our team and his wife have come with another surprise: "When I was having back problems I used this inversion table to relieve some of the pressure. I thought I'd bring it by and if your husband can use it great. If not, give me a call and I'll pick it up again."

Really? Very kind. I'm having a hard time letting this all soak in.

At the end of the day, I check my email. Another team member volunteering to mow our lawn. He comes, on his day off, on a holiday, and mows the lawn, and uses the trimmer to do the edging and whack all those weeds. "Chris should not be doing this for several weeks, so I'll come back in two weeks or so and do it again. Okay?"

And the tears again.

Sheer gratitude for the love of Christ being displayed in the people we do church life with. Maybe to them these were small sacrifices. Maybe it "was nothing". To us, it was a world of help and a picture of how the Body of Christ can function.

It is also a lesson to me in how I am notoriously bad for admitting I need help and being willing to take it without guilt.

It is a further lesson on my inadequate service to others. How often do I go above and beyond to help someone in need? Do I watch for places I can serve? Am I willing to inconvenience myself for others?

And so I challenge myself, and you, if you've read this far, to be the servant this week. Be the hands that do and the feet that go to show the compassion of Jesus to someone this week. Who will it be? Who could you help this week? Who can you serve and bless with a meal, an errand, a note of encouragement, a gift, a task? Will it be your co-worker? Your neighbour? Your spouse? A stranger on the street? Your child?

Lord, open my eyes to the needs of those around me, and show me how I can serve them. And thank you for this church family who have loved us so well this week. Bless them for their generousity.

Clearly I Didn't Pray Hard Enough for "Travelling Mercies".

2011-12-19T06:00:00.001-05:00

Originally Posted July 14, 2008

I don't know about you, but I serve the funniest God ever. I mean, His sense of humour is priceless and His timing is spot on. The trick is He is one of those smart funny people who make jokes that I *know* are funny so I laugh right out loud, but I hope He doesn't say "Do you get it?" because I'll have to admit that I really have no clue what the joke was about but I didn't want Him to think I was severely delayed in my mental capacity.

That's what my Thursday was all about. This was kind of right up there with the WalMart fiasco in my books in terms of "frustration factor" but remarkably I did not lose it this time. I might actually be able to say that I was calm and pleasant all by the grace of God. So here goes:

Thursday July 10 from 11-3, the Ramada Inn was going to be hosting an Abeka Book Display. I was all pumped to go and order our math and, for the first time, language curriculum for our next school year. You get free shipping if you go in person and I'm all about saving, and not wasting, time and money. (ha ha. That will be ironically funny later.)

So I load the van with 7 fantastic children all who have gone to the bathroom and the baby having been fed. We are ready for the hour drive and looking forward to the promise of a Great Canadian Bagel after we do our shopping. I'm a happy momma.

The tunes are playing my songs (as opposed to Veggie Tales Campfire Songs), the kids are giggling in the backseat, the sun is shining. It is a good day to be on the 402. But hark, what red light from yonder dashboard breaks? It is the battery warning light....hmmmm. I'll have to tell my hubby when I get home.

Funny thing, that. That little light sure had my attention, as did the arrow on the 'battery level gage' (if that's what you call it). The arrow started slipping from half/normal to less than normal....kind of quick like. I turn off my happy tunes and my happy a/c. The arrow continues to dip. I turn off my lights. The arrow continues to dip. I notice we are approaching the turn off to get to my inlaws and I start praying that we would get that far and forget about Abeka and yummy bagels. The arrow dips faster. I pray harder.

I notice, my accelerator ain't acceleratin' so much. And my steering wheel is a lot more "arm strong" than "power"....

sigh.

"Hey kids! Guess what? We're going to have a bit of an adventure today...and not necessarily a great one."

The car stalls completely, I put on my hazards, and we slowly make our way to the shoulder. Stuck. On the side of a major highway with 7 kids in the car, one water bottle, no cell phone, and 1 kilometre to go to the exit to my inlaws.

cool.

So I say to the kids "Let's just pray for a minute" and we ask that the Father will send the right person to help us at just the right time, and that we will be safe here on the side of the road (I couldn't get the van off the road quite as far as I might have liked).

I hop out and pop the hood (this much I can do) and then I wait for someone to notice that we are broken down and not just letting a little kid "water the weeds" if you know what I'm saying. As I wait and notice that no one is coming, I dig deep into my acting skills. I stand right by the driver's side corner of the hood where the oncoming traffic can see me and put one hand on my hip and one on my head, scratching my forehead in a confused manner, saying out loud (like they could hear me) "Wow, my car died. What should I do?"

For future reference: That doesn't work.

By the providence of God I was even wearing a skirt that day (wouldn't you if you were going to buy homeschool curriculum?) and I was not afraid to use it to my advantage should we get that desperate.

More acting. More flagging down of cars. More being looked at and ignored (yes, I saw you Mr. Business man and Friend in your pretty BMW on your cell phones and Blackberries. I saw you look at me, rubber neck, and then carry on. Nice. Don't worry. It is way cooler for a girl in a WHITE ANKLE LENGTH SKIRT to try to fix a car than for you to get your metrosexual selves all greasy. I get that. You may have even damaged your Manly manicure by dialing 911 for me. It's all good.) More sitting in the car making sure the kids are still not going mental. They are busily writing "Car Broke. Please Help Us" signs. Very industrious. Then I think the unthinkable: Also by the providence of God, I have my double stroller in the back and I know we are only 1km to the off ramp. Really? I'm going to try to walk to Strathroy? In sandals? Alongside the 402? With 7 kids in tow? Oh my word.

So I pull out the stroller and set it up on the remarkably loose gravel. I give 'er a push to see how plausible this is (not very) and try to mentally envision how close the nearest building is to the exit. I know the OPP office is somewhere around there but how far off the exit and what else is over there and SERIOUSLY!!!! and Oh Lord could someone just.pull.over.

But fret not. I'm not so self-centered as you might think. In that moment I thought of you. I did! I said, out loud even, "If I need to walk down the side of this stinkin' highway with my freakishly large family, it will make one awesome blog post."

But the walk of death was not meant to be. At just at that moment, I tried one more mime action. I waved with my left hand and made a "phone to the ear" move with the right all the while saying (in case someone could hear me *this* time) "Do you have a cell phone? I just need to call a tow truck".

Lo, and behold, a man had pity on my plight and pulled over.

A great big, 18-wheeler, Freightliner truck, pulls over and backs up to my van. As the door of the cab popped open I heard angels singing and I prit'near skipped over to this man saying "Hurray and thank you for stopping".

Yahoo for Mike from Poland who works for Freightliner. He saved the day. He told me about his little grandson. He even tried to fix the car for me and then told me in his charming accent that "GMC makes no-think but junk". He let me use his cell and even offered to put all of us into his sleeper cab and drive us into Strathroy if we needed (looking back I should have TOTALLY taken him up on that offer. The kids would have had a blast, and talk about good blog stories).

He was the perfect guy to pull over at just the right time. God is good.

Then while we were waiting for Father-in-Law to come to my aid, our friendly neighbourhood OPP officer pulled up behind us wondering if we needed help and if he could call someone for us. Seems that someone saw "a woman on the side of the road with the hood up and a stroller" and thought that maybe the cop would want to come check it out.....ya think? (maybe it was you who made the call, Metrosexual Business Guy. I should give you the benefit of the doubt, yes?)

All in all it went well. We were happily on our way to my in-laws place after one and a half hours of sitting on the side of the road. It could have been worse.

But here is the ironic part: remember how I was going to this thing to "save money on shipping"? Okay. So Dad lovingly says "why don't you use my van and go in to buy the books anyway so at least the day isn't a total waste". Excellent idea. We get there with half an hour to spare before they close shop. I ask the beautiful woman at the Ramada counter which room Abeka is set up in. She looks at me like I'm speaking Greek. Clearly the display is not there today. She most graciously calls 10 other hotels in the area to see if I just had the wrong location. nope. nope nope nope. nope nope. nope. nadda. zip.

Huh?

So to console myself I take the 5 kids I had brought with me to Tim Horton's for a cookie because, well, we needed it.

When I returned home to my lovely abode later that night (having driven dad's van home and leaving mine in Strathroy to get fixed) I log on to dear Abeka's website where they have apparently canceled EVERY.STINKIN'.DISPLAY for the rest of the summer....I think. There is no notice saying that, but the display locations are no longer anywhere near me. Nor near my friend halfpint in August as previously advertised.

Ah yes. So in my attempt to save some cashola on shipping, I used my gas tank, my alternator, a remarkably small tow truck fee, Dad's gas tank in the van (3ce), and then one more trip there and back when Mom and Dad lovingly drove our fixed van out to us....all at $1.35 a litre....

and I still don't have my books.

BUT, and this is big, I NEVER got angry, frustrated, ticked, concerned, worried, freaked, mental, .... I was just waiting, and laughing, and being blown away by my Brilliantly amazing kids who (baby and 2 year old included) just hung out in the van, buckled up for an hour and a half with out any wailing, gnashing of teeth, or tearing of clothes.

The Lord is working in our hearts making us more and more like Him. I've been trying to figure out what that day was all about. Maybe that's it. Just a test to show me what is in my heart normally, and what He is beginning to put there instead. Of course the girls were trying to convince me it is a sign from the Lord that we ought not to do Abeka math, or really any math at all, next year.

I'll wait for a burning bush on that one.

Impressing God

2011-12-18T06:00:00.001-05:00

Originally Posted August 5, 2010

How long have I sat thinking about this post? How long have I had a weight on my heart about this post? *sigh*

My first stirrings and musings on this matter came some 6 years ago when I read "An Unstoppable Force" by Erwin McManus. The whole book kind of got under my skin. And if I'm being honest, I felt sort of annoyed by the premise and presumption in the book. I don't own a copy of the book, so forgive me as I paraphrase, as best as I can, a recurring theme in his writing that got my goat. He would talk about how praying for our children to be safe was a poor thing to pray for. That our goal for ourselves and our children and our churches should be to live dangerous lives for Christ. God wasn't calling us to lives of safety, but to lives of danger, and risk, and doing big things for God.

Now, I agree that the Word promises that we will have trial. We will have tribulations. There is no denying that saints throughout history, and even to today, are suffering for the dangerous righteousness they are living out. And there is no denying that Christ himself did not choose an easy life of safety during his time on earth.

I agree that we need to live lives that are full of action. James says, "Faith without works is dead" and "Be not merely hearers of the word but doers also". We need to act. Jesus acted. I get that. I know the Parable of the Talents. I know how displeased the Manager was with the worker who merely buried his talents, folding his hands and twiddling his thumbs in safety and ease. And I know how pleased he was with the workers who used and developed and risked the talents for a greater reward. I know these truths.

And don't get me wrong: I know myself well enough to know that at heart I am lazy and selfish, and prone to justify my laziness and selfishness under the guise of "being cautious" or "being reasonable". I am also prone to worry, and so the easy thing for me would be to bubble wrap my children and say it was "just being a good steward of the gifts God has given to me".

And also don't get me wrong: The last thing I want is for the church to be a bunch of complacent, comfortable, casserole-loving, isolated, irrelevant, nice guys.

So I struggle with this. I don't want to live a meaningless life of ease and inactivity. I don't want to displease God by wasting the days he has given to me. And yet I look at the life he has given me and wonder how a mom of 7 is supposed to "go and do some big thing to impress God"? I mean, after all, I'm *just* a stay at home mom.

And then I see a video like this...

...and I don't disagree. I think he's right. On many, many levels, he is absolutely right.

But...

Will someone please say that being a mom *is* doing a big thing for God?

Will someone please say that choosing to quit your job, live on one income, and stay home and homeschool is living a scary, crazy, unsafe life for some of us?

Will someone please say that being a mom or a dad who works all day, shining the light of Christ to his or her co-workers, and then coming home and making supper, reading stories, praying with the kids, and selflessly spending even more weary hours shining the light at home, and ushering your children into the kingdom of Christ through faith *is* doing a 'big thing for God'?

Will someone please say that working joyfully day in and day out on the factory assembly line,

and honouring your parents,

and loving the saints,

and serving in the local church,

and tithing,

and living your whole life--every second of every day--as a living sacrifice of worship to Christ is just as much a "big thing for God" as anything else you can dream up?

For some wholehearted Christ-seekers, the call will, in fact, be to pick up and spread the gospel to the far-reaching, life-threatening corners of the globe, and to them I say, "Thank you for going, and thank you for making those sacrifices, and thank you for being faithful. May the Lord bless you for your courage and faithful obedience." Truly.

But for the rest of us wholehearted Christ-seekers, who, for the time at least, are being called to stay home and just shine for Christ here, let me say to you, "Thank you for staying, and thank you for making these sacrifices, and thank you for being faithful. May the Lord bless you for your courage and faithful obedience, too."

We need to remember, *I* need to remember, that God is self-sufficient. He doesn't need me or you to dream up something wonderful to do. He doesn't need our service, he doesn't need our "staying" or our "going". However, He does invite us. And when and where and how he invites us better stir our hearts to specific obedience, no matter how different our invitation looks from that of the person next to us.

"One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much." "Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required, and from him to whom they entrusted much, they will demand more." (Luke 16:10, Luke 12:48)

Lord, you have entrusted me with much here. Let me be faithful in this before I venture off to do anything else. Help me to hear your voice, and your call on my life so I can obey the things you've called me to do, and not try to respond to someone else's call. Help me to remain content in this big thing you've called me to instead of longingly looking for some other way to "impress" you. Thank you for this call, and for this mission. I pray that you will find me to be a faithful servant. And I do pray that you will embolden your church to do the things that please you, starting with the small acts of obedience and faithfulness right in front of our faces.

Could've Been Worse (otherwise known as "The Wal-Mart Fiasco")

2011-12-17T06:00:00.001-05:00

Originally Posted January 17, 2008

It was the 15th which meant that my fridge was really not impressively stocked with groceries any more. Typically we shop on the 1st and 15th, but that is tricky when the 15th is a week day and hubby has the car and I have the kids. However, we thought it would be a great idea to go straight into the city after work and take the gang to Tim Hortons for soup and a bagel (thanks Mom and Dad P for the gift card!) and then I’d grocery shop with some of the younguns while Chris went to Home Depot to pick up some basement reno stuff. This sounds blissfully wonderful. The baby had even been napping well so she should be fine while we’re out. What a nice night we had in store.

The first harbinger of things to come was when I cut my finger while emptying the dishwasher….ON A BUTTER KNIFE. (I’m not kidding. Who can do this?)

Yet, we continue on in our plans for Family Night Extraordinaire.

We get to the restaurant (although as my speech-impeded daughter once said "Momma, this is not a westawant: it’s a Tip Howrtons" ….it was funnier in person) and 3 of the children want chili (shocking actually), 1 wants veggie and 1 wants chicken noodle. The baby will share mine so she doesn’t get a choice. Up to the counter: sorry. No chili left. Hmmmm.

Okay re-order. Now the littles are saying 3 veggies, 2 chickens. (plus my chicken and Chris’ mushroom).

Up to the counter: Sorry. only enough for 1 chicken.

Seriously.

Okay executive decision: Make it 5 veggie and I’ll take the chicken (because that way no one fights over it) and 1 mushroom. All 12 grain bagels. (that would be 7).

Sorry. Only 6 12 grain bagels

Okay: make it 6 12 grain and 1 whole wheat (I really don’t care at this point).

She gets the drinks and I pay, using my handy dandy gift card plus some of the kids’ Christmas money (I’m sure they won’t mind).

Now I’m waiting for the soup and bagels. Guy beside me says: Wow. Are they all yours?

Me: yup.
Guy: wow, I thought it was a birthday party.
Me: (thinking things I wouldn’t say out loud) Oh that’s funny! (idiot)
Guy: So how old is the oldest and youngest?
Me: (thinking "that’s right, let’s just see HOW MUCH of a side show freaky family we are") 9 down to 18 months (and then for shock factor) and I’m expecting in 5 weeks. Guy: Wow, don’t you know when to stop?
Me: Ha ha ha. Guess not!

And then I slink to my table hoping to disappear only to realize she only gave us 6 meals not 7 in total. Great. Now to go back up and let her know that our family is SO BIG we need more food.

Lady waiting at the counter: Wow, so they are all yours?
Me: yup.
Lady: Boy. Well, *good luck*
Me: Thanks! :-) (rolling eyes as I walk away)

So now here we are trying to eat in peace and my precious dear son knocks his bottle of OJ off the table where it smashes onto the floor (glass bottles….nice) and spills its entire contents all over everything, including his sister. I can’t just sit there letting the whole restaurant see the evidence of our freakiness so I begin to pick up the broken glass and mop up the juice with a wad of napkins. Chris begs me to just sit down because 1) they pay the girls to clean this stuff up (remember, it used to be my job) and 2) the longer the big pregnant woman squats on her haunches cleaning up, the more people are looking. Right. Good point. Besides, I already cut myself on the broken glass because I am just that stupid.

Suddenly we realize that the children are not eating their soups because 1) they somehow all magically have to go the bathroom RIGHT NOW and 2) they all thought it would be fun to use the little salt packets they gave with our meal, forgetting that since their mom hardly cooks with salt at all their taste buds are not accustomed to the canned/dehydrated/overprocessed/highly salted Tim Hortons soup. Still, they add the WHOLE PACKAGE and find the soup inedible. So they ate bagels and juice and a few bites of soup to be polite.

At which point Chris says "Let’s just go". So we go. Now the grocery store I like (Food Basics) is no where near Home Depot so for sake of time and gas and convenience I say I’ll go to the Price Chopper nearby, even though their produce stinks. Chris says, "Well, you could try (shudder) WalMart"…..

You need to know that we kind of hate WalMart. But I have heard good things about the grocery store so we thought we’d try it out. I would take the 6 year old, the 5 year old and the 18 month old. All is well. These kids are GREAT shoppers (and that wasn’t even being sarcastic).

Now here was a bright point of the day. The Stuffmart grocery was fairly well laid out, not very busy, and for the most part not outrageously priced (not as cheap as Food Basics, but not bad).

However, did you know that the StuffMart Superstore is about a million square feet big? Keep that in mind as you read along.

Miss 5 year old suddenly discovers about half way through the million square feet that she has to go to the bathroom. You just went at Tim’s, I remind her. I know, she says, but I have to go again. BAD. Okay, I will look for a bathroom while we shop.

Now she is crossing her legs and hopping down the aisles and her eyes are welling up with tears (I imagine her teeth were floating too, but I couldn’t see that part). I’m frantically looking for something that resembles a washroom sign, but alas, no luck. Seeing my daughter’s agony I now abandon my shopping in search of an employee. Apparently StuffMart has only 6 employees to cover those million square feet.

Ah yes, here she is now. A girl in a blue vest.
Me: Could you tell me where the closest bathroom is for my little girl?
Walmart Lady: Up by customer service.
Me: (incredulously) There isn’t a bathroom in the grocery section?
Walmart Lady: No.
Me: I have to walk all the way to the front entry area?
Walmart Lady: Well, not the entry, the Customer service.
Me: Right, That’s actually FARTHER THAN THE FRONT ENTRY (at which point 5 year old starts to actually cry instead of just whine and tear).
Me: Can I at least take my cart to that part of the store?
Walmart Lady: Oh yes, of course (suddenly trying to be helpful).
Me: Fantastic.

Running like Donovan Bailey to the stinkin’ customer service area, I push the cart full of groceries while my 18mo is wondering what is going on. We arrive to see a happy sign saying "No unpaid for merchandise past this point" and as I abandon my cart full of groceries out side the bathroom door I say "So help me if someone steals this cart I will sue Stinking Stuff Mart". By which point, I hear from inside the stall, to where my daughters have run ahead of me:"Mommy I couldn’t get here fast enough and the pee went all over my tights and my shoes" (note: and underwear and skirt and floor….)

So big Prego, now holding the 18 month old baby on hip, and purse on arm, slightly out of breath from the sprint half way across a million square feet of store is squatting again, cleaning up a mess off another store floor and throwing out said undies and tights, because I am not so desperate for cash that I have to stick wet, peed on things in to my purse to wash at home.

And now we have the pleasure of going back to the outer limits of WalMart to finish shopping….

At which point I begin to think it would have just been easier to stay home and fast until the weekend when I could have shopped when and where and how I wanted.

But then at the check out the lady who was serving us (now granted she didn’t realize our family was ‘freakishly large’ because she only saw me with 3 kids) kept praising my children for their manners and patience and obedience and beauty. And then praised me for feeding them well with all this produce, and for obviously trying to raise them well, and how blessed and what a ‘lucky family’ we were and how she hopes we just have a real great evening now, and see you again, and take care, and bye bye sweet baby……

sigh.

So on the whole, the night really stunk. But it ended so much better and about so much better things. As I push the cart out to the car (telling my daughter of course her legs are cold in the parking lot. Bare, damp legs tend to feel cold outside in January in Canada) my six year old pipes up and says "There’s Daddy in the van. I love how he is so sweet to always park where we can find him and he always helps you by loading the groceries in to the car. He’s so great."

The Bible never promises that the world is going to get our Godly choices: in fact quite the opposite. We should expect to be laughed at and questioned and persecuted when we care about our children's modesty, or innocence, or family size, or getting out of debt, or a million other "weird" things that Christians sometimes do. We get the shame.

And the Bible never promises that just because we love the Lord that the bottle won’t break, our kid's bladders will be huge and strong, and the soup will be plentiful. That’s just stuff. We get the frustration.

But sometimes….just sometimes….the Light of the Lord shines so brightly through our children that the lady at StuffMart comments. And He gets the glory.

Lord, I’m so sorry for my reactions to frustrations like Tuesday night. I’m so sorry that my head is on such trivial things that I care more about how it looks on me that a 4 year old broke a glass bottle by accident than how I respond to the questions and criticisms of the world. What should have shamed me was the number of cuss words that popped into my head over the course of the night not the fact that my precious daughter had an accident in the bathroom. Lord, renew my mind, transform my heart, and conform my will to line up with You. And for Your sake let my children take after their Father and not their mother.

Odius Tasks

2011-12-16T06:00:00.001-05:00

Originally Posted May 11, 2009

I don't know about you, but there are some parts of being who I am, called to do what I am doing, that are really stinkin' excellent. On the flip side, there are a couple of things that are significantly less excellent. I'd like to mention a few of those things here today. I hope this isn't 'grumbling and complaining'. Perhaps it is just enough 'realness' for you to finish your week knowing that someone else is in the trenches beside ya.

Ready?

Okay, so first, I really hate going to bed knowing my husband isn't coming home. If I know he'll be home at 3am because of work? No problem. I'm in the happy land of Snooze by 9:15pm. But he's not coming home all night? He's travelling? Sorry. I'll be up til the little birdies sing their happy morning song. Do you know why I hate this? Yes, partially because I'm a sappy, hopeless romantic, but really because I think this might just be the night that some ne'er-do-well rapscallion is going to break into my house and steal something. Nothing strikes fear into the heart so much as the phrase "home invasion". This goes beyond the hassle and severe heebie-jeebie-ness of 'break and enter'. No one wants to know that someone has broken in and rummaged through all your unmentionables, but while I'm at home? sleeping? Um. No thanks.

Next on my list, is making the beds. I'm not talking pulling up the sheets in the morning and arranging the pillows ever so jauntily. No, I mean, I just spent all day haulin' 62% of my body weight in sheets and comforters up and down from the laundry room, only to have to now climb all over some rectangular "funhouse" trying to pin down an elastic edged sheet that doesn't feel like co-operating. And you do realize that at present we have one bunk bed set in our house. We have 3 more sets a comin'. Nothing like whacking my head whilst doing the bottom bunk and then suffering from vertigo from the top bunk to make my night. In fact, I have, in moments of weakness, prayed, whilst up on said top bunk, for that ne'er-do-well rapscallion to come at that exact moment. And I would beseech him to have the decency to help make that top bunk before robbing me blind. Pathetic.

This next one might surprise you. At first it doesn't sound so odious, but if you are a homeschooling mom you may just relate. Sharpening pencils. OH! how I hate sharpening pencils. I really do *heart* a nice sharp HB, but when there are 6 children at the table, all wanting a pointing thing with which to colour or print, and you are trying to sharpen as quickly as possible, it becomes an odios task. Especially when just as you are nearing pencil point perfection, the stupid lead breaks off several millimetres below. It is at that point that I wish I was not such a stupid cheapskate, because the leads likely break so easily because I bought a box of 24 pencils for 10 cents at Target. Why do I think they mark them down to 10 cents? Ah yes, the greatness of the 'deal' is losing its lustre right about now.

Toilet training? Anyone? Ya. Thought so. Moving on....

Picking tomatoes. I know, I know, garden fresh and back to nature and all that. Believe me, I love tomatoes right out of the garden. Nothing tastes better. All hot from the sun and juicy and perfect and YUM! I know. And I realize that *someone* needs to be out there picking them. Just please let me pick the basil that will taste like heaven with the tomatoes. Or let me gather some green beans. Picking in and of itself is not the problem. It is tomatoes specifically. The vines are the problem. They have a smell that makes me gag. Even "on the vine tomatoes" at the grocery store creep me out. Yes they taste better, but only if I plug my nose when I pull them off the vine.

Now this one is obscure, but it trumps the rest: Getting jalepeno pepper juice in the eye. I know, how often does this happen? Not often, but only once in a life makes it the most odious of all tasks. Except possibly making the top bunk. But I digress. It is like a little "do it yourself, at home pepper spray" kit. Man alive, you have to really like guacamole to put up with that pain. It happened to me in a really horrific way once and I was so incapacitated with pain that I left my (at the time) 3 youngest children alone in the living room to fend for themselves while I stood in the shower, fully clothed, trying to pry my eyes open and rinse them out with cold water. This after I had tried to pry my eyes open to get my contacts out (which of course were nicely rubbing that capascin juice right back into my cornea). The thing is, with pepper juice, your eyes don't tear. Your nose runs like a faucet, but there ain't a drip of tear to wash this stuff out. My hubby came home an hour after it had happened and thought that I'd been crying my eyes were still so red and swollen. I told him I would rather be in labour than have my eyes pepper sprayed. Seriously.

This is a long post. Are you still here? Maybe I just gave you an odious task of note: Reading Barbara's rambling blog. Painful.

Here's to hoping that none of us have to do any of those things in the next several days. Especially the jalepeno bit. Maybe keep one on hand though in case of home invasion.

Heard at My House

2011-12-15T06:00:00.000-05:00

Originally Posted September 22, 2009

Note to Self:

You know it may be time to have a more specific "talk" with the kids when one daughter, noticing a picture of a woman wearing a low-cut shirt, says...

"I don't think she is very modest with part of her udder showing."

Oh.my.stars.

Open Letter to Some of my Daughters

2011-12-14T06:00:00.000-05:00

Originally posted October 26, 2010

Dear precious, lovely girls:

I have a couple of things to say to you today. They've been on my heart for a while but have been more like "groans too deep for words" that only the Spirit can interpret until now. Finally I feel like maybe, just maybe, I know what some of these words on the tip of my tongue are, and how to get them out. Maybe.

First, let me say that of all our girls you are most like me. I know you know that. You hear it all the time from me, from the grandparents, from folks at church. Here's what you may not know: for years I've been praying that you would be nothing like me at all.

I know that sounds backwards. Most moms love to hear that their daughters take after them. "Oh, she has your eyes", we love to hear. But some of the ways you are like me are things about myself that I have prayed against and struggled with for years.

I have prayed earnestly that the Lord would make you take after your father more than after me. I've prayed that you would be spared the frustration I've worked through struggling over specific sin issues that linger decade after decade.

What I want is for you to have an easier time than I've had in certain areas of life. I want for you to not have to take so many thoughts captive in your head as these lies creep in, shaking your faith. I want for you to know that you know that you know that you are loved by Jesus. I want for you to experience less temptation, less fear, less guilt, less laziness, less pride. I want for you to be like Christ right now, not after a life-long, sometimes slow process of sanctification.

But here is what I have just realized:

If the Lord didn't bless you with weakness, you would never look to him for strength.
If the Lord didn't bless you with pain, you would never look to him for comfort.
If the Lord didn't bless you with sorrow, you would never look to him for joy.
If the Lord didn't bless you with guilt, you would never look to him for forgiveness.
If the Lord didn't bless you with sickness, you would never look to him for healing.

The things that I have hated about myself have thrown me to my knees in prayer, and have kept my eyes fixed on Christ. That is what I want for you. So if that means the Lord needs to make you like me in order to turn you to Christ, then so be it. I'll be on my knees beside you.

Praying for you daily,
Your Mom

Good Enough To Eat

2011-12-13T06:00:00.001-05:00

Originally posted on March 6, 2007

The other morning, as my family was dashing out the door to a homeschool event, my dear son said the most remarkable thing to me. I was feeling a little frumpy that morning (can anyone relate?) so to perk up a bit, I spritzed on some of my perfume ("Obsession" for those of you who want to know).

As I was buckling the baby into her car seat and doing up my son's shoes, he leans in and says, "You smell good, Mommy. So good I think I want to bite your neck and eat you! Why do you smell so good?"

And so began a conversation on perfume. However, if I had really been on the ball, I would have made it an object lesson and said, "Well, Thanks be to God, who always leads us in His triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. (2 Cor. 2:15)" Well, that might have been a bit much.

Still, the fact remains that when Christ is dwelling in us we exude an aroma, a fragrance, that is pleasing to Him and to those who are being saved around us. And the Word challenges us to "Taste and see that the Lord is good. (Ps.34:8)" If we are open to enjoying the fragrance of His presence, maybe we will be bold enough to 'take a bite' and experience Him fully. That is true satisfaction! And hopefully that fragrance will be a better fix for the 'frumpy' days when they come.

Lord, let us be like that garland of grace that is made of Your fragrance. Let us be noticeably beautiful to those around us, both those being saved and those perishing. And let us seek You for the fulfillment we desire. And in the meantime, thank you for precious sons who love their mommas.

Back from the World of Silence

2011-12-12T10:45:00.003-05:00

Hello world, it is me: Barbara the Delinquent Blogger! Honestly, who knew that the last time I would have blogged would have been July 13th? Seriously, I did not see the blog hiatus coming. Didn't plan it. And yet, there it was. In all its quiet glory.

Truthfully, I was shocked by how long it had been since I last blogged. It didn't feel like it had been that long. And I didn't really think people would notice. But you did! And that is humbling and sweet. So, thank you for giving me the nudge needed to get back up on my writing horse, as it were.

Are there any good reasons for the blog silence? Well, not really. Life is busy, but that's nothing new. I've been working on other writing projects, but that also is nothing new.

I suppose I just fell out of the habit. And that is something I can fix.

In fact, I am very intentionally planning on re-forming the habit of blogging regularly, but at a new address! Woot! Who doesn't like moving? Okay. Actually, don't answer that. No one likes moving. But everyone likes the new digs when they are still new, right? A new coat of paint; pictures hung on different walls; more space to move around: that all adds up to a great deal of happysighingness. And so, the move will happen.

My incredible husband (who has his own stellar blog these days is working on reading my mind and interpreting my indecision in order to make my blog as pretty as I want it. The official launch of the new digs will be January 1st. Aren't you so excited?!

In the meantime, I want to give you a bit of a Merry Christmas countdown leading up to the big move (and all the new content) by reposting some of my most favourite blog posts that I've written since I started the blog in November 2006. Some are funny, some nostalgic, some inspirational (I hope?).

I hope you enjoy reading some of my favourites, and do feel free to suggest favourites of yours (if it isn't too pompous of me to think that you might have remembered a post or two!)

In the meantime, I'm going to post a new Christmas video (ooh. New content already!) that I think is pretty adorable. Enjoy! And see you back here tomorrow when the countdown begins!

Wow-ful Women Wednesday -- Blue Grass Edition

2011-07-13T09:02:00.001-04:00

Come on, now. This *must* put a smile on your face. I like this for many reasons. Not the least of which is my 3 year old coming over and trying to sing along thinking that the girls were singing "Raisin" in all the transitions between verses. Listen closely. He may be right. :-) I am really enjoying this this morning. Hope you do too!

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays

2011-06-29T11:19:00.002-04:00

Well, I made it to about 3:40 before I totally lost it. I call that progress.

"You are everything you've promised....Alleluia"

Heard At my House - The Seven Year Old Theologian Edition

2011-06-23T06:00:00.001-04:00

Setting: My two sons, chatting happily much too early in the morning for my liking. I come in and tell them to be quiet, once. Brief silence. Then, they begin the chatting again. I come in a second time:

Me: Boys, it is not morning yet. You are up FAR too early. Everyone else is trying to sleep still. It is time to be quiet now with no.more.talking, do you understand?

3 year old Z: Yes, Momma (in a whisper)

7 year old C: Mom?

Me: *exasperated sigh* Yes. What?

C: Mom, did you know that when Jesus was walking to where he would be crucified that he had to carry his own cross, and it weighed, like, 100 pounds? And once he got really tired from carrying that heavy cross that he fell down under it and the soldiers made another man carry it for Jesus. Did you know that? Imagine, what would it be like to carry Jesus' cross for him?

(mental note: give that kid bonus points for pulling such a great distraction out of his hat at such a dangerous moment.)

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays

2011-06-22T06:34:00.002-04:00

I know these guys aren't women. I know that. And I know that this feature is called "Wow-ful Women Wednesdays". Doesn't matter. Let these lyrics sink in. I know I need to. This ought to be my heart's cry everyday, but particularly after the teaching I received at our church's recent Ladies' Retreat.

Enjoy. Downhere, with "Let me Rediscover You".

Heard at My House - The Four Year Old Theologian Edition

2011-06-21T13:05:00.004-04:00

Setting: Sitting around the lunch table explaining that being told in the Bible to call God "Abba Father" is like being told to call him "Daddy".

4 year old T: Mom, God is our *real* Daddy. And so we should not want to disobey him. And so that's why I'm really trying to not disobey.

(mental note to self: grab a tissue and enjoy this moment, but then remember not to use this profession of faith against her the next time she does disobey!)

How I Got Over Myself

2011-06-09T07:04:00.001-04:00

Some days are like this, yes? You wake up determined to feel sorry for yourself and all the hard things you need to do. You see the “to-do list” and even as you are scratching one item off, three more get added. The workload of a stay at home, homeschooling mom is daunting. Add to that the burden of those who work from home as well and you have a potential recipe for a pity party. Here is how I have determined to teach my brain (and my heart and my soul) to reconsider this day and the tasks it holds in a way that will leave me rejoicing, rather than pulling the covers over my head in surrender.

Please read the rest of my latest Heart of the Matter Online Article http://heartofthematteronline.com/2011/06/how-i-got-over-myself/

Heard at My House - Best.ever.for.realsies

2011-06-03T08:17:00.002-04:00

Setting: 4 year old daughter sitting on the couch, looking at my wedding album.

4 year old: "Mom, mom! Come here! I want to show you something. I want to show you how beautiful you look."

(mental note: buy that kid a pony for her birthday at the end of this month.)

Happy Birthday, Mr. Hardy

2011-06-02T12:34:00.002-04:00

Who knew that my favourite poet would have been 171 today, had he not died in 1928. Still, now that I know I felt compelled to share with you my favourite poem from Thomas Hardy. He also wrote my favourite novel. Gold star for the first of my friends to comment on which novel that is.

Here is his poem The Voice (just try not to sigh while you read it. Love.it.)

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,
Standing as when I drew near to the town
Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,
Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze in its listlessness
Travelling across the wet mead to me here,
You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,
Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I; faltering forward,
Leaves around me falling,
Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,
And the woman calling.

The Voice
Thomas Hardy

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays

2011-06-01T06:00:00.001-04:00

AH!!! I am about to explode your brain with Wow-fulness. You should probably sit down. ;-)

Okay, so seriously, who can sing like this? I know this song is getting a tonne of radio play and maybe you are tiring of hearing it, but I truly can't imagine how that can be possible. This girl can SING!! And it just struck me on my way home from the market as I was listening to Adele with goosebumps all over my arms that part of what makes her brilliant is that she sounds like the two singers in the second video put together. Wow: The Grammar Police will have a hey-day with that last sentence! Regardless, listen to Adele first (because she is brilliant) and then listen to the Civil Wars second (who are also RIDICULOUSLY fabulous and note the Wow-fulness of Joy Williams....seriously.) Then tell me if you agree that Adele is like the Civil Wars in one person. Which is insane.

True and Better

2011-05-30T12:06:00.001-04:00

Sometimes, playing the comparison game is a good idea. Here's just such a time.

True & Better from Peter Artemenko on Vimeo.

Foodie Fridays - One Day Late!

2011-05-28T18:36:00.002-04:00

The contest is nearing to a close. This is the penultimate week for entering videos, and for this round of entree week I've made a Beef Stroganoff. I heart this stuff. Next week, the final week, is dessert week. I'm a lame dessert maker, so I may opt to not submit a video next week. That means that this may very well be your last chance to hear me say my cheesy closing lines of "I hope you try it. I hope you love it. Happy Cooking."

Oy. I needed a creative assistant to tell me to stop saying that! ;-)

Here we are: Enjoy! (it truly is DELICIOUS!! and dead simple)

An Open Letter to a Jogger

2011-05-26T06:00:00.002-04:00

Dear Jogger Guy:

I need to start by apologizing. My sincerest apologies for looking like a terrified deer-in-headlights when you jogged towards me the other night. I don't believe that an apology that blames the other person is a true apology, but in this case, I'm going to totally blame you and hope that it still counts as an apology of sorts.

Here's the deal: I'm not a total scaredy-cat. Really I'm not. But I do have an overactive imagination fueled by horrible novel selections by high school English teachers (who really should have known better) and poorly chosen television viewing habits in my university days. I am not a conspiracy theorist, but I do sort of expect that there could very well be danger lurking under every bush.

And you weren't under a bush: you were running straight down the sidewalk towards me: menacingly, with an air of malevolence and guilt. Or potential guilt. Maybe you hadn't committed a crime yet, but you sure could have.

You see, if clothes make the man, your clothes made you a bank robber. No word of a lie. You ought to consider things like that when you get dressed for a run. In May. On a warm night.

Why were you wearing a black skull cap covering all your hair? Why were you wearing a black shirt and black shorts and black socks? Why were you wearing a black balaclava?

Well, okay: that was my first mistake. Or maybe not my first, but certainly my biggest. It wasn't a balaclava, but it sure looked like one from a distance. Turns out that what I thought was a black, menacing ski mask was actually,...

*ahem*

...an inordinate amount of facial hair.

Seriously. Dude. What's with the pitch black, thick rimmed glasses, and bushy black eyebrows, and FULL.BLACK.BEARD that covers, essentially, everything but your nose and eyelids? From a distance, all I could see was the whites of your eyes, the tip of your nose and a sliver of your mouth: which wasn't smiling, and that would have helped, just so you know.

So as I walked off the sidewalk and onto the bike path to get out of the way of impeding mugging, please forgive me. I should have expected better of you. And as I, likely audibly, sighed with relief as you passed me, please forgive my prejudice.

But really, give a girl a helping hand and at least wear a t-shirt with a big, yellow smiley face. Or leave the black hat at home. Or trim your beard. Or carry a sign that says, "I am not a crook". Any of those small changes would be considered an act of community-mindedness, and would likely decrease the chances of you experiencing a false arrest sometime in your life.

On a positive note, you have a great stride. And if you had committed a crime, I bet you could have outrun your pursuers. Nicely done.

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-05-25T11:06:00.001-04:00

*sigh*

Jenny & Tyler. So good.

Heard at My House

2011-05-25T08:40:00.001-04:00

Setting: 3 year old son setting the table for breakfast. Grabs a handful of spoons. Puts them on the table. Comes back for a second handful.

"Momma. We need more spoons. We have LOTS of kids!!"

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Foodie Fridays - Two Days Late

2011-05-22T13:56:00.002-04:00

The latest Real Women of Philadelphia contest entry. Please laugh at my lame joke in the opening segment. Please? ;-)

And you really, really, really should make these. So.stinkin'.delicious. There were 24 little pieces which was supposed to be 12 servings. We fought over the last couple!!

YUM!!

I've been holding out on you...

2011-05-19T06:00:00.002-04:00

So about this Philadelphia Cream Cheese Contest: I'm still playing along, although much more reluctantly of late. It is a good thing I have a type-A daughter to push me along on these things, because I am way too phlegmatic to keep up with something like this for a full.eight.weeks.

Actually, that sounds much more cranky than I mean it to sound. I love cooking. I love good food. I love hanging out with my daughter (and her siblings who do the lighting for her) in the kitchen. I do not love having my video taken, but I'm growing up about even that.

So here are the latest two videos we've done, with one more coming this week. We have done 6 out of 8 weeks of submitting videos. Each week they pick 2 videos to be the finalists who will go to Toronto in July. I've clearly not been picked yet ;-) I fully do not expect that I ever will be picked. This is the tricky part for the kids. They think I hung the moon and so it is astounding to them that any other woman could be selected over me! (oy. They need a bit more of a realistic opinion of me, I'm afraid! Ha!) I'm trying to explain to the girls that the kind of "Real Woman of Philadelphia" that I am demands that life be easy. Simple prep; simple ingredients; Simply delicious.
Some of these other women are geniuses and they are cooking with lobster and truffles and fiddleheads. Ya. I can not compete with that! Thoroughly inspiring, nevertheless. And clearly well-earning their spots as finalists.

Without my delaying the inevitable any further, here is a dessert and my second appetizer. Enjoy!

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-05-18T08:26:00.002-04:00

I'm feeling a little schmaltzy today. A little nostalgic. So brace yourself for some mushy-gushy, lovey-dovey. ;-)

Martina McBride

Miranda Lambert

Heard at My House -- Insect Edition

2011-05-14T10:20:00.003-04:00

3 year old: "Momma! There a bug in the downstairs!"

Me: "Cool. Who wants to kill it?"

7 year old boy: "Not me. It's totally creepy. It's like a mosquito crossed with a spider."

9 year old girl: "More like a spider crossed with a scorpion."

3 year old: "Momma! There a bug in the downstairs!"

Me: "Yes, well, I'm busy. I bet one of you could kill it."

7 year old boy: "Hey, A, spray it with the dusting stuff."

9 year old A: "Okay. Look, it just fell off the baseboard into a ball on the floor. Now you can pick it up."

7 year old boy: "No way! It's creepy."

9 year old A: "Ya. Well, I killed it. And anyway, I'm not all that lovey-dovey about picking up dead bugs."

3 year old boy: "MOMMA! I said there a really big 'pider down in the basement and it weally, weally fweaky! It's a big, giant 'pider like this." (insert adorable 3 year old hand motions)

Mental note to self: the chances of any of my children going to Africa to be missionaries is really, really slim.

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-05-11T11:09:00.002-04:00

Ah, yes. Here it is: a link to the blog I wish I wrote. I know I usually post a song on a day like today, but this post is so absolutely where I'm at these days. And I believe it will ring true with all my church family and our MATEO dreams. For those of you who don't know what that means, please ask me. I'd love to tell you. In the meantime, read this post by Ann Voskamp, a mom, just like me, who has kids to teach, and words to speak and write,...and seeds to sow.

Read her gorgeous post here.

Heard at My House

2011-05-07T14:17:00.003-04:00

Setting: Dear, sweet, lovely little 3 year old man, being tucked in for his nap.

With big, brown, trusting, compassionate eyes, he looks up at his dear mother and says:

"Momma. If the bad guy stabbed me *right here* (pointing to his chest) I would be died, but then I'd be in heaven, right?"

Me: "um. yes."

Wee Boy: "Okay. That's good."

Me: "Sweet dreams?"

Mental note: have a little glance over the Sunday School materials when they come home tomorrow to find out what examples they are using in the nursery....:-)

Foodie Fridays

2011-05-06T06:00:00.000-04:00

Sorry, my friends. No video today. (sigh of relief over here!)

But at long last, here is the muffin recipe that I promised my in real life friends:

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Walnut Muffins (come on, now. How good does that sound?)

2 eggs
1 cup sugar (brown or white)
1/2 of a 796mL can of pure pumpkin
1 270g bag of milk chocolate chips
1 100g bag of chopped walnuts (optional, if you have allergies)
4 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup rolled oats
2 tbsp baking powder

Preheat oven to 375F.

Beat combine eggs, sugar and pumpkin. Add remaining ingredients and stir just until mixed. Some flours absorb more liquid than others, so you may need to add a splash or two of apple juice or milk to keep it moist.

Scoop into greased muffin tins and bake for 20 minutes.

This will make 24 muffins. I have doubled this recipe and it works very well. Good to have some extra muffins on hand in the freezer. (Okay, I know some of you are thinking "24 muffins WOULD give me some extra muffins for the freezer, crazy woman!" True enough. Double it and you'll have extra extras!) ;-)

Enjoy!

Happy 5th of May!

2011-05-05T16:30:00.001-04:00

My prayer this month...

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-05-04T06:10:00.002-04:00

A man singing a song about a woman with May in the title. That counts for a WWW May edition, in my books. I always imagined I would name a daughter Emily on account of this song.

The Impossiblity of it All

2011-05-02T07:17:00.001-04:00

It is no mistake that you are a mom. And it is no surprise to hear that Motherhood is a hard job. And yes, there will be days where the task seems more daunting than you bargained.

But here’s the thing: the perfect place from which to parent is that place where you are at your lowest, crying out to the Lord, saying, “I can’t do this today. Will you be my strength and do it for me? I don’t know how to do this. Will you be my wisdom?”

His answer will be yes. And his solution will be immeasurably better than your attempt.

Don’t be ashamed to admit weakness in your parenting. There is a huge upside to being weak.

Continue reading my latest post for Heart of the Matter Online here.

Happy Second of May!

2011-05-02T07:08:00.003-04:00

Bwahaha.

Okay, so I had a thought of posting a new "May" song every day this month. We'll see how long that lasts ;-)

This is lovely, though. I know May won't really stay forever, but there will be at least 29 more days, I'm guessing.

Happy First of May!

2011-05-01T06:00:00.000-04:00

Foodie Fridays - One Day Late!

2011-04-30T13:48:00.002-04:00

Better late than never! When I fed this one to my family our wee 3 year old man gave me the big thumb's up (literally) and said, "Momma! You make good quiche."

Real men do so eat quiche ;-)

(notice how my camerawoman/editor is getting better and better each time? Particularly since she had to edit out a few noisy kids in the background, and several mistakes by the chef *ahem* It was her idea to have me out on the porch and her idea to watch the timer count down. She is really starting to think creatively about how else she can tell the story through angles and editing and lighting. I love that kid!)

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-04-27T06:00:00.000-04:00

This has been well-circulated lately, and I have posted Carrie Underwood before, but this video certainly bears repeating here on me wee blog. Everytime I hear her sing I think, "now, *that* must be her full voice. She couldn't possibly sing with that strength any higher"....and then she does. And then she key changes. And she sings just as strongly still. Ridiculously talented.

Enjoy!

Foodie Fridays - Two Days Late

2011-04-24T16:24:00.005-04:00

Better late than never, I always say. To make up for the delay, I'll give you a little two-for-one recipe video extravaganza!

(oh dear.)

Just focus on the recipes, people. This is some good, good cooking!

Good Friday

2011-04-22T08:14:00.001-04:00

GOOD-FRIDAY, 1613, RIDING WESTWARD.
by John Donne

LET man's soul be a sphere, and then, in this,
Th' intelligence that moves, devotion is ;
And as the other spheres, by being grown
Subject to foreign motion, lose their own,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a year their natural form obey ;
Pleasure or business, so, our souls admit
For their first mover, and are whirl'd by it.
Hence is't, that I am carried towards the west,
This day, when my soul's form bends to the East.
There I should see a Sun by rising set,
And by that setting endless day beget.
But that Christ on His cross did rise and fall,
Sin had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I almost be glad, I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for me.
Who sees Gods face, that is self-life, must die ;
What a death were it then to see God die ?
It made His own lieutenant, Nature, shrink,
It made His footstool crack, and the sun wink.
Could I behold those hands, which span the poles
And tune all spheres at once, pierced with those holes ?
Could I behold that endless height, which is
Zenith to us and our antipodes,
Humbled below us ? or that blood, which is
The seat of all our soul's, if not of His,
Made dirt of dust, or that flesh which was worn
By God for His apparel, ragg'd and torn ?
If on these things I durst not look, durst I
On His distressed Mother cast mine eye,
Who was God's partner here, and furnish'd thus
Half of that sacrifice which ransom'd us ?
Though these things as I ride be from mine eye,
They're present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them ; and Thou look'st towards me,
O Saviour, as Thou hang'st upon the tree.
I turn my back to thee but to receive
Corrections till Thy mercies bid Thee leave.
O think me worth Thine anger, punish me,
Burn off my rust, and my deformity ;
Restore Thine image, so much, by Thy grace,
That Thou mayst know me, and I'll turn my face.

Heard at My House

2011-04-21T06:00:00.000-04:00

Setting: 3 year old son, squinting his eyes really, really tightly.

Son: "Mo-omm (said in a sing-songy way). Can you see me?"

Me: "Yes, dear boy. I can see you."

Son: "No you can't."

Me: "Actually, yes I can."

Son: "No. My eyes are closed so you can't."

Me: "Right. I forgot."

Mental note to self: It might be time to take a course on "Playing Along with an Imaginative Child" and "How not to Crush your child's enthusiasm for Play".

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-04-20T06:00:00.000-04:00

So good. Love these guys.

Decision Time

2011-04-19T08:00:00.000-04:00

Dear Shirt,

You were the perfect price on that clearance rack. You were just the right shade of green. You were the right tunic length with the cute three-quarter sleeves, and the tiny buttons up the front that just set you off so nicely.

Then, there was the delicate little draw-string belt. So thin. So discreet. So very current. You know, I had a moment when I bought you when I thought, "Hm. I sure hope that this is at the right spot that accents the fact that I do, actually, have a waist, rather than making me look pregnant."

But, no. How could you, perfect little light-weight spring shirt that would look so cute with my black capris, ever do anything so vile as make me look pregnant when I'm not (really, really not).

However, today, just now, the door bell rang, with me being held in your embrace, and there stood my neighbour with a few questions and a bit of small talk. We laughed, we discussed, and we decided. All the while, there was a look. A downward, glancing look. A suspiciously questioning look. An unspoken wondering look.

You, my dear shirt, are outta here. You need to know that the next time that the charity clothing people have a pickup in our area, and you hear the doorbell ring, I assure you, you will not need to ask for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

Sincerely,
Me.

Whether or not you like the Weather

2011-04-18T09:31:00.003-04:00

It is April 18th. That sounds like spring, yes? Well, here in our neck of the woods the vast majority of us have taken off our snow tires, washed and stored our snow suits, pulled out the sundresses and sandals, and even worn capris at least once this month.

And today it is snowing.

I mean, snowing. A fair bit. Not a blizzard. Just like someone is going a little overboard on the icing sugar on their olie bollen. (shout out to the Dutch among my readers! Woot!)

Without sounding like a total Pollyanna, I really, really still think it is pretty. This is a change in my heart. I've not always been a happy weather girl. Historically, I have only been content when the skies are clear, the sun is tempered, and the temperature is between 16 and 24 degrees (for my American readers I'm speaking Celsius, not Fahrenheit. I know that to convert that for you I need to do something with the fraction 5/9ths, but I don't remember what. Let's just say I like the mercury to hover around 60--70F...close enough).

My operating system seems to overheat pretty easily, so a crisp fall day or a cool spring morning, either of which require jeans and a light sweater, make me very, very happy.

In my vocabulary, there are a couple of 'bad words' that I tend to avoid. One starts with a "sh" and the other starts with a "b"...(shorts and bathing suits). Not only do I tend to avoid the words, I actually tend to avoid those articles of clothing. Truthfully, I do not own a pair of shorts and haven't for about 10 years. And I only have a bathing suit on account of the water polo game I've promised to play at our church's women's retreat in June. Seriously. There have been many, many years when I 'forgot to pack it' and had to sit out of the game entirely. Shucks.

Why am I rambling about the weather? Well, it is all reminding me of one year in university in particular: possibly 1994. It was April. We were in exams. And we all came in tanks and shorts and flip flops. And we all sweat like so many pigs stuck in a barnful of desks and stacks of paper, with no ventilation, for 3 hours. I remember thinking it was so demotivating to put forth a good effort on that exam because I was so.stinking.hot that I couldn't care any less about finishing well: I just wanted to finish and get back to an air conditioned mall. What? It's unreasonable to only take 45 minutes to do a 3 hour exam? Whatevs.

However, the very next year, to the very day, was Easter. And as our church held their Sunrise Easter Sunday service in beautiful Victoria park, I stood there, in my Easter sundress, my pretty Easter sandals, and my parka. With an inch of snow at my feet.

Fickle though she may be, Fair April is always good for a test of our contentment. And our sense of humour. Maybe April feels that the Fool's Day needed a full month this year.

Now excuse me: I'm considering going out and building a snowman. And putting an Easter bonnet on him.

Foodie Fridays

2011-04-15T16:05:00.003-04:00

Well, now. A friend of mine introduced me to this contest that was running. It involved two of my favourite things: the potential to be cooking show host and Philadelphia Cream Cheese as a secret ingredient in your favourite recipe. What's a gal to do? Of course I had to enter the contest. Sadly, the contest also involved one of my most unfavourite things: being on video.

Oy.

However, because I am trying to be a good mom to my daughter, and trying to give her some experience doing a thing she loves, I signed up. You see, my eldest has a knack with a video camera and editing software. And where she still has things to learn, she is diligently studying. And practicing. On me. Like this.

There is no public voting on these videos, so there is no benefit to me in having you watch this (really. NO benefit) except that you get to see my 12 year old's handiwork. Not bad, eh? I just stood there and spoke. She did all the rest of it. Not too shabby, if you ask me.

I do believe that I may have posted this recipe in the past, but now you get the visual to go with it. Oh man. And just so you know, I'm going to refrain from any comments on my role in the video itself except for this one thing. I know, I know, I know that what I meant to say was "We go through a pot of soup pretty quickLY". Quickly. Quickly. Argh. Adverbs. It's not that complicated.

And here is the link to the contest where you can see all the other fabulous contestants do their thing. How fun is that?

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-04-06T14:01:00.002-04:00

Ah! I'd forgotten about this song. If you saw a girl driving a Blue Corsica in the summer of 1997 through the streets of Santa Rosa, California looking like she was screaming in the driver's seat, it was actually me singing this song. And every other song on this cassette *ahem*.

This is Christine Dente and her husband Scott in their band named Out of the Grey.
I heart this song. Every little bit (but especially from about 3:30 to the end)
Enjoy!

Getting to Know My Kids

2011-04-04T13:42:00.001-04:00

Having seven children has done wonders for my memory. There are so many things to remember about kids: Birthdays; shoe sizes; favorite color; what grade they are in (*ahem*); and what color they are wearing when we go to a crowded park so I can pick them out of a crowd like a paranoid mother counting to seven approximately every 3 minutes might need to do (*ahem* again).

But here is what I’ve been noticing lately: I can know things about my child without really, really knowing them. Does that make sense? There are lots of basic facts about them that help me keep health and safety matters in check, but what about knowing them well enough to help them thrive?

Proverbs 22:6 is familiar territory for most of us. It reads: “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it.”

Good to know. But what does that mean? For some of us it means simply raising them in a Christian home, trusting that once we’ve instilled a faith in their hearts, they won’t walk away from the Lord as they get older.

For some of us, it means teaching and training them according to their specific, God-given gifts and abilities so that they can walk on the vocational path God intended for them.

The question remains, how do we know our kids well enough to point them down that road? I can know their vital statistics and never *really* know them well enough to direct them well.

Please read the rest of my latest Heart of the Matter Online article here. And then, go and get to know your kids! ;-)

Foodie Fridays

2011-04-01T17:19:00.002-04:00

What are you having for supper tonight? As for me and my husband, we are having delicious somethingorothers at Kelsey's with friends. Woot! But I can't not feed my kids before I go. What's a mom to do when she wants to convince her kids that they aren't being ripped off by not eating delicious restaurant fare?

Try this:

Cooked Bow Tie Noodles (because they are adorable and more toothsome than some other pasta shapes)
Sauteed onion and broccoli
Combine and toss with some Greek or Italian salad dressing
Sprinkle with grated mozzarella.
(add cooked chicken if you are feeling particularly fancy)

Ta da!

Kind of like one of these variations, but once you've seen that idea, you can tweak it however will best please your crew.

Enjoy!

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-03-30T09:23:00.002-04:00

My apologies for getting this song, in particular, stuck in your head today. Sometimes we get pretty heavy around here on Wednesdays. This isn't heavy like that.

At all.

This is just "heavy, man". If you get my drift. And if not, well, then just shove me in the shallow waters before I get too deep. That's what I always say

This song makes me laugh. 1988. Really? Wow. I was 13. And I had her hair. Except with bangs. You know the kind: Curl two rows back and one row forward, then spray with as much hair spray as possible. Sadly, I kept that hair style far, far too long.

What is particularly Wow-ful to me, at this phase of life that I'm in, is how long Edie Brickell can stay in a squaty-crouch position without losing all sensation to her calves or having her knees lock up and prohibit her from standing.

Enjoy. :-)

Foodie Fridays

2011-03-25T06:00:00.000-04:00

It has been too long, again, since I've shared a yummy food idea with you all. My apologies. But you are all clever cookies and I know you've been cooking your family favourites just fine without me. ;-)

Here is a yummy way to change up the hot cereal routine in your house, and mix in some fruit, and nuts, and dairy (or some variation of it).

I'm a big fan of whole grains. You've heard me go on about quinoa (keen-wa) and we only use brown rice, and we only use 100% whole grain whole wheat in our breads. And so on. We also eat our fair share of large flake oatmeal (much to my eldest's chagrin).

Instead of oatmeal, though, some mornings we have millet. Have you ever eaten millet? You should. It is delicious! But not only that, here's the rest of the deal with millet:

It is delicious! (oh, wait. I already said that!) ;-)
By the numbers, 100g of millet has 7.3g of protein, 3.6g of fibre, 72g of whole grain carbohydrates, and 328 calories, and only 1g of fat! Woot! So far so good right?

Plus, from a global happiness perspective, millet is easy to grow, and easy to store, and full of amino acids that people without access to a healthy and varied diet need in order to live well. What I mean is, in parts of India and Africa, the hundreds of millions of poor who live on inadequate diets, can find great nutritional benefits in millet, and it is consumed in many forms during the day for the various meals (as a grain, as a fermented beverage, as a 'sweet') and the ease of growing and storing means that even where farming practices are a little lack-luster, this crop can be a means of sustenance for the people, and financial strength for the community. (Thank you, Wikipedia!)

Are you sold yet? It cooks up light and fluffy, almost like couscous. We use it in stuffed peppers; I toss it in soups; It makes a good substitute for bulgur in tabbouleh; you can eat it as a pilaf.

Or you can eat it for breakfast. Millet cooks in a liquid to grain ratio of 2:1. For savory meals I'll use chicken broth, but for breakfast I use half apple juice and half water.

Today I brought 2.5 cups apple juice and 2.5 cups water to a boil, and then added 2.5 cups of millet. I turned down the heat to a low simmer and kept the lid on the pot. After 10-15 minutes I check the pot to see if the water has been absorbed and if the grain is fluffy. Sometimes it takes 20 minutes.

Then we serve it with a heap of sliced strawberries, raw almonds, and a splash of soy milk (or the real deal if you are so inclined). If my kids are feeling particularly sweet-toothish we add a pinch or two of brown sugar, but the apple juice is usually sufficient.

That amount feeds my 7 kids, and if I'm quick I can get a bowl-full too.

It is delicious, and it easily satisfies until lunch time. Give it a try, and tell me what you think!

Wow-ful Women Wednesday - Domestic Diva Edition

2011-03-23T06:00:00.000-04:00

This is pretty much how chore day goes around here.

Heard at My House

2011-03-22T08:22:00.002-04:00

So, how do you argue with this kind of logic?

Setting: Mom in the kitchen making breakfast. Three year old son playing with 4 year old sister in the living room. Lots of "light sabre being whacked on the floor sounds" being heard.

Me: Honey, let's not bang the light sabre so hard on the floor. Let's be more gentle, please

Son: But Mom, I'm getting the crocodiles on the floor that are eating my sister.

Me: Right, then. Carry on.

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-03-16T08:17:00.002-04:00

Have you ever asked the question "Why do bad things happen to me? I'm a good person. What is the point of this trial?"

My pastor has answered that question for our congregation by saying, "It is happening to refine you and make you more like Christ. It is happening to teach you to know how to comfort someone else who will go through a similar pain. And it is happening for a thousand other reasons that you may never know."

I've always loved that. There is a great comfort in knowing that there are bigger things at work than my puny life. There is a great comfort in knowing that my pain isn't being wasted.

Sara Groves wrote about this other brilliant female songwriter today. Christa Wells is a new name to me, but I am glad to have found her. And this song in particular.

A thousand things are happening in this one thing, she says. What will be the fruit of the experiences of your life? You may never know. But praise Him through it, and trust Him to use it.

Christa Wells -- A Thousand Things

And then go and read this blog post by Christa Wells. Just tripped across it. Love it.

Battling Depression Part Four

2011-03-15T22:07:00.002-04:00

This article is overdue. It was supposed to be submitted to the editor six days ago. And here is why it is late: I’m terrified to write it.

These last three posts have been significantly harder to write than I expected. What I’m finding is that in order to write convincingly and honestly, I have to relive a bit of what I felt in those dark days. I fully expected that it would be a theoretical reliving. What I found was that the darkness loomed much too close for comfort, crossing over from past memory to present threat. This, clearly, was not okay with me.

And so, with one final article to write for Heart of the Matter, and with a book in the wings on which I am working, I am finding the fear of what might be lurking around the corner to be a significant deterrent to getting the job done. I would love to be able to say to you, “I am willing to find myself back in the pit of Despair in order to write this book so long as even one person is helped by it.” But that would be a total lie. There is no part of me that wants to experience that pain again. Not for a moment. Not for you. Not for myself. Not for the sake of my family. Not at all. Period.

Please read my latest Heart of the Matter Online Article here.

Wow-ful Women Wednesday -- Birthday Flashback Edition

2011-03-09T07:51:00.005-05:00

It is my sister's birthday today. Happy birthday! So in honour of her and her birthday, I knew that I *had* to find a video of a duet that she and I would do when we were kids. There are so many options (each one more ridiculous than the last).

I mean, do I pull out Whitney and her mom singing "I Know Him So Well"? It's a good one, but the video quality is very, very poor. So no. And we did it better driving in her K-Car anyway. She was Whitney. I was Cissy.

Then there is Kenny Rogers and Dottie West...but I'm tryin' to keep it clean around here :-) I won't even tell you how young we were sitting in the backseat, driving across the country for family vacation singing that one. She was Dottie. I was Kenny.

So here is the other option, and I think it is the best. Pretty sure we sang this around the organ. That's right. My sister is a very talented musician and singer. But she and I both started on the organ. And then I quit (story of my life) and she carried on to do much more musically. But picture us. At the organ. Singing this song (followed by "Memory" from Cats, and a selection of songs by Air Supply. I can't make this stuff up, people).

But do please note the ridiculously large stage they are on. And how ridiculously in her personal bubble the guy is. Wow. Can you imagine singing that close to someone? Awkward.

Here, for the Diana to my Lionel, is Endless Love. Happy birthday, J.

Heard at My House

2011-03-03T06:00:00.000-05:00

Setting: 3 year old boy. Gorgeous. Sitting beside me on the couch while I read a story to him and his sister.

Did I mention he is sucking his toes?

Me: "Buddy. Don't suck on your toes. That's kind of yucky."

Him: "No, Momma. They not yucky. They yummy. And delicious."

(mental note to self: Maybe I should stop telling him that he looks good enough to eat.)

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-03-02T09:10:00.003-05:00

Sara Groves. I know, I know. I've highlighted her here before. Many times. But seriously, how can I not?

Today's post has a few back stories attached to it. Here are a couple:

This song has some of my favourite lyrics of all time. There are a few perfectly written lines, in my mind, that in such a small phrase (lyrically and melodically) can sum up a precise feeling. And I appreciate the beauty of that.

This song, as you will hear Sara talk about, was inspired by a line in a movie which I had seen before I knew of this song, and liked very much as well.

This song makes me miss my husband, and makes me grateful for the fact that I do indeed miss him. He goes out of town every so often for work, and I am grateful that we have the kind of marriage that makes me say, "Boy I miss that guy" instead of "Shucks, is he back already?" There is an "incompleteness" to me and to our family when he is physically absent. And what a great thing it is to see that, and acknowledge it, and to be grateful for his return.

And finally, this song proves my pastor right. Sara, when she introduces this song, talks about the different kinds of happy in her marriage. I haven't experienced exactly what she is speaking of, but I remember my pastor trying to convince my love sick fiance and me that the high flame of newlyweddedness would subside and would develop into the longer lasting, more desireable, greater heatedness of long burning embers. I couldn't imagine anything changing in how I felt about my incredible man, and likely thought my pastor was wrong about us. Maybe other people's love slows down to a simmer, but not ours. But that's not what he was saying. And he was right. *This* kind of "we've been married for almost 15 years" kind of love is better than the "wow, I'm 20!" kind of love. And I'm guessing the "We've been married almost 30 year" kind of love will be better yet! Why? because now we have history. Now we have proof that the promises we made that day, we've kept. And there is a trust. And I'm so grateful. (Mind you, that doesn't mean my heart doesn't still pick up the pace with excitement when I see Chris walk into a room.)

So without further ado, here is "Different Kinds of Happy" by Sara Groves. And don't mind all the mood wrecking chatter with the radio host before and after.

go on and ask me anything
what do you need to know
I'm not holding on to anything
I'm not willing to let go of
to be free, to be free

I've got to ask you something
but please don't be afraid
there's a promise here thats heavier
than your answer might weigh
baby it's me, it's me

it's a sweet, sweet thing
standing here with you and nothing to hide
light shining down to our very insides
sharing our secrets, bearing our souls,
helping each other come clean

secrets and cyphers
there's no good way to hide
there's redemption in confession
and freedom in the light
I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid

better than our promises
is the day we got to keep them
I wish those two could see us now
they never would believe how
there are different kinds of happy
different kinds of happy
there are different kinds of happy
different kinds of happy

A Spring in my Step

2011-02-24T15:21:00.003-05:00

In my neck of the woods today we are experiencing a perfectly lovely day. There is a nice slow thaw with no breeze to speak of, and mostly sunnyish skies. And I was forced to get outside today with my daughter to help her deliver flyers. I'm not going to lie: I felt like helping with the flyers about as much as I wanted to mark my children's math books (oh ya. I had to do that too.)

Anyhow, out we went, and I was prepared not to grumble because I told a friend of mine to ask me later if I grumbled (hurray for accountability). But before I even had a chance to convince myself not to grumble, I caught up with the mail man.

We have a nice mail man. He is always smiling and always has his music turned WAY up and sometimes he sings along. He teases my kids about skipping school on a sunny afternoon. He walks with purpose, but in a sauntering kind of way. He looks like he enjoys his route and isn't in a rush to finish it. I should find out his name and give him a Christmas Card next year.

But, as usual, I digress.

So I catch up with him at a house where I have flyers to put in the mail box and he has, well, mail. He asks me, "Is that your daughter pulling the wagon over there?"

I answer in the affirmative.

He says, "You know what? You have the nicest kids. They are always so polite and friendly and respectful. Your daughter was just saying hi to me. I have 3 kids of my own and so I always notice other people's kids, especially when they are nice."

*sigh*

And so, I remember that the point of my life is not my own agenda, (which, by the way, has nothing to do with much other than drinking tea and reading books today) but raising these beautiful children in such a way as to touch someone else's life and give them a glimpse of joy.

And for some reason, all of this -- the lovely weather, the lovely conversation, the lovely realization, the lovely children -- made me think of this song.

Maybe this is the 80's musical spin on "Bloom where you are planted."

Wow-ful Women Wednesday

2011-02-09T14:07:00.002-05:00

Okay. Really? All these people? On one stage? Together? At the same time? Singing? Worshipping? At the same time? Seriously.

My kids are saying that I shouldn't really post this video on Wow-ful Women Wednesday because there is only one woman. And really it isn't about that for me anyway today. This video is being used by the Lord to teach me a lesson today. There has been a very specific theme in what I'm hearing and reading and discussing these days, and this video represents a whole lot of what I need to learn.

Thanks to my friend, Wendy, for posting this video this week. I certainly wouldn't have found it otherwise.

Heard at My House--The Violent Vegetable Edition

2011-02-08T06:00:00.000-05:00

Setting: Eating supper with the family. Menu? Chicken, Toasted Quinoa Pilaf, and steamed Brocolli.

4 year old daughter: If I shoved this brocolli in my eye would I die?

Daddy: Um. No.

Daughter: What would happen to me?

Daddy: You'd probably say "ouch" and take it out of your eye.

Daughter: And then would I have to go to the Doctor?

Daddy: Not likely.

Mommy: How far in are we talking about shoving it?

Daughter: But I wouldn't die?

Daddy: No.

Daughter: Okay.

(Mental note: See? Veggies are good for you.)

Foodie Fridays- Iron Man Edition

2011-02-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

Over the years I have been proven to not be an Iron Man. I don't mean those athletes of superhuman strength and endurance that can swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles, and then still run a full 26.2 miles marathon in less than the maximum allowed 17 hours. No, no. Clearly, I am not one of those.

I simply mean that over the years, my blood has spoken against me and stated my weakness that I am low in iron. It isn't a big deal. It is not "an issue". It has not been the thing that has prohibited my being a high performance anything. No. I just go through phases when I am a little more fatigued than normal, and a little more lightheaded than normal. That's all.

So what's a girl to do? Well one easy thing is to take a good iron supplement. For quick results, I've always liked Floradix or Floravital. Tastes good: works quickly. But for a more long-lasting, store-building-up kind of supplement, I go for the little green pills: Ferrous Gluconate. But don't listen to me about these thigs. Go talk to you doctor.

What I can tell you that I do as a general rule of thumb is to up the iron content in my menu. I know, I know, the richest dietary source of iron is Beef Liver. This will not be a post on how to cook Beef Liver. Just sayin'.

But here is the deal: While meat is clearly an excellent source of Iron (the Heme kind), don't forget to count the high iron foods in the vegetable world (the Non-Heme kind). For ideal absorption of the irons (Heme and Non-Heme) you should eat them together. So don't think you are getting the best iron by eating a steak if you aren't eating some leafy green vegetables with it. And don't think that only eating kidney beans is best. Throw some ground beef into your chili for maximum benefit.

Also, a trick with any iron intake is to make sure there is Vitamin C to go along with it to help your body absorb it. And also, to make sure there isn't a lot of caffeine to go along with it, because that will hinder the absorbtion. So if you drink a coffee with your Beef Liver, the iron ain't gonna help you as much as you hope.

So say you are wanting to eat less meat, but are worried about iron. Let's look at a completely "Non-Heme" iron day and see if we can get enough iron. Well, here might be a typical day's worth of food in my house and the approximate iron counts. "They" say that as a primarily vegetarian woman in my 30's I should be getting 33mg of iron a day. Let's see if we get there.

Let's say for breakfast I have a bowl (1 cup) of oatmeal (10 mg) with a banana cut up on it (.31mg) and a cup of blueberries thrown in (.41mg). I drink a little OJ with it for the vitamin C.

For lunch I have one of my favourite soups. In my bowl there is a cup of lentils (6.6mg) and 1/2 cup spinach (3.2mg) and a whole lot of tomatoes (at least .33mg) but they are there more for the vitamin C then the iron. I will probably have 2 slices of whole wheat bread as well (1.8mg)

Then for supper, I might have a vegetable stir-fry. 1 cup of Brown rice (1.0mg) 1 cup broccoli (1.2mg), 1 cup of bok choy (1.77 mg), a handful of snowpeas (2.46mg) and 1/2 cup tofu (3.4mg) with a handful of sliced almonds on top for crunch (1.05mg)

Grand total? 33.53mg. We did it! We met the vegetarian's daily recommended amount. If you are a woman who does eat meat frequently you only need 18mg of iron a day. Not too shabby.

Plus, think about all the other fabulous benefits to those foods! Low fat, high fibre, phytonutrients, antioxidants, vitamins, minerals...and DELICIOUS!!!

Now don't get me wrong. I would not turn away a piece of grilled chicken from my stirfry or a meat ball from my soup, but if you are looking to eat less meat more often but worry about the nutritional consequences, worry no more. I won't even bother to calculate out how much protein this day had. Or how few calories :-)

So enjoy your Beef Liver. I'll have an extra serving of Vegetarian Chili. (and then I'll have roast beef tomorrow just because it tastes good!) ;-)

(Awkward Disclaimer: Of course, just like I am not a doctor, I am also not a nutritionist. So if you are unduly fatigued or lightheaded or anemic, please go see your doctor. I can give you recipes for yummy, iron rich food: that's all!) :-)

Heard At My House

2011-02-03T06:00:00.000-05:00

Setting: Mommy in bed 'sleeping in' until 7:00am (ahem). The bedroom door creeps open as her 7 year old and 2 year old sons peek to see if the clock says 7:00 yet (indicating 'get out of bed' time.)

2 year old son: "Mommy is still in there. Shhhhhh."

7 year old son: (after climbing back into bed, begins to sing) "Ding dong the Witch is dead. Which old Witch? The wicked Witch. Ding Dong the wicked Witch is dead."

Boy, I sure hope for his sake that that song choice was just a really, really unfortunately timed earworm.

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays

2011-02-02T15:02:00.000-05:00

Battling Depression Part Two

2011-02-02T11:54:00.001-05:00

As time went by, and the darkness didn’t lift, I found myself in a place of desperation. My husband, shortly after the birth of our fourth daughter and approximately 9 months into my depression said to me, “Will I always have a wife who is depressed?” He said it not in an accusing way, nor in a frustrated way: he seemed to be simply trying to prepare himself for what the rest of our lives (and therefore, his responsibilities) might look like. And in that moment I knew something needed to change. I didn’t know what, and I didn’t know how, but I knew, with newly found resolve, that I could not carry on like this for the sake of my husband and children. My husband was (and still is) a very hands-on dad, but he did have a full time job and it was unreasonable for me to expect him to pick up all my pieces too. But where to start? I continued going through the motions of parenting and daily life, and I continued willing myself to get better. I’m sure you can imagine the level of success that brought.

The turning point for me was in June of 2002. During the quiet prayer time at our church’s ladies’ retreat, I read a verse that I am sure I had never noticed in my bible before that day.

Please read Part Two of my Heart of the Matter series here.

Heard at My House -- The Existentialist Edition

2011-01-27T16:15:00.002-05:00

A: I just don't know what I'd feel like if I wasn't a person.

Me: Sorry. What?

A: I mean, if I wasn't me, and I wasn't someone else, and I wasn't a thing. I just don't know what that would feel like.

Me: Okay. You need to explain that a little more. Do you mean, like if you were some other person?

A: No. Like, I just think there is a person for everybody.

Me: Do you mean, "a soul for every body"?

A: No. I guess...well, I don't know...I mean...

Me: Do you mean, if your dad and I didn't have you would you still be somewhere else?

A: I don't know. I just mean if, I just...Well, I don't know how I'd feel.... Oh, I don't understand what I mean either.

(mental note: I'm not sure which of my university studies would have been more helpful in this conversation: Psych 020 or a reading of Waiting for Godot.)

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays

2011-01-26T06:00:00.000-05:00

There are some singers that make me want to either be a better singer or to just duct tape my mouth shut and never sing again. These two women from this family are two such women. There is a "je ne sais quoi" about their voices that just haunts me. So beautiful. Of course the production quality of this video and the instrumentation and the harmonies, and women playing the double bass, and brothers who can sing....It all adds up to a significant stirring for me. As such, I'm posting 3 videos today of the Franz Family. I know the first song is a Christmas song, and I know it is January, but is there really ever a poor time to remember that Jesus is Emmanuel - God with us? Didn't think so.

Enjoy.

A little extra dose of Blue Grass:

And then this: *sigh*

Foodie Fridays

2011-01-21T06:00:00.000-05:00

I'm not a cheapskate. Okay, well, maybe a little. I like to think I'm frugal, not stingy. So when I find a good deal on food that stretches the budget, but also tastes delicious and isn't radically unhealthy, I get pretty excited.

I would love to be one of those coupon ladies. You know, you lucky American readers of mine, you seem to have a 4 for 1 coupon plus a double coupon day at any store you like! (insert jealous sigh here) Unfortunately though, it does seem that most of those coupons are for Pop Tarts and marshmellow cream which don't count as food in my books and aren't really on my weekly menu. Alas, perhaps Coupon menu planning wouldn't work for me anyhow.

But I digress. Thanks to Martha Stewart's magazine cover this month, I've been drooling over the thought of roast chicken. There are myriad ways to roast a chicken and every one looks better than the last. My bright idea was to buy two roasters this week and cook them simultaneously, thus ensuring a meal plus leftovers.

Twas not to be, fair reader. It was not to be. You see, I got looking at recipes and realized that a 3 pound chicken is expected to feed only 4 people. That would never do. Now we aren't really 'big meat eaters' so I figured the two chickens I meant to cook would do us a meal with maybe enough leftovers to add to a pot of soup. Not bad. Off to the local supermarket I went in search of the plumpest, cheapest chickens I could find.

Well, the cheapest two ended up being the ONLY two left in the store and they were going to cost me nearly $20! This did not sound like a deal, but I had it in my mind that it would be worth it.

But then....OH BUT THEN I rounded the corner and found the turkey section. Dear lovely overlooked-at-Christmas Turkeys, I am so glad to have found you! I put back my chickens and selected a $22 turkey that was nearly 2 pounds more than the two chickens combined and brought it home to my happy kitchen.

Last night I roasted the turkey. I rubbed pesto butter under and on top of the skin, and placed a juiced lemon in the cavity (if you don't juice it first it makes for an overly lemony gravy. Not interested in that. So juice that baby and save the juice for something else.) For supper last night we had a typical roast turkey with gravy and mashed potatoes. Yum.

Then, as I was cutting up the rest of the meat for our leftover meals I decided that I would make a turkey pot pie casserole with the leftover gravy and a few cups of cut up turkey and some frozen vegetables. I assembled it and put it directly in to the freezer for some night I don't have time to prepare a meal.

Then, I made a stunning broth out of the bones etc. and used another few cups of meat and the broth in the best turkey noodle soup of my life! (Recipe to follow!) It was enough for lunch today (with a few of the kids eating more than one bowl) with more left over for tomorrow.

Then, there are still another 3-4 cups of meat that I intend to make a pasta dish later this month.

I don't know about you, but feeding 9 people at least 5 meals out of one $22 turkey sounds like a pretty good deal! Imagine if the turkey had been on sale?! (My eyes will be watching the flyers a little more closely for them now).

Anyhow, I just needed to share with you that happiness of my grocery shopping. I know some of you will relate to my glee over the whole matter :-)

Now for the soup recipe! (Brace yourself for a whole lot of non-specifics!)

For the Broth:
Turkey bones, skin etc.
Enough water to cover
1-2 tbsp peppercorns
2-3 tsp dried dill
1 cup fresh parsley, chopped
3 carrots scrubbed (not peeled) and cut into thirds

Bring to boil. Then simmer for 2 hours or more. (Less time works too, but the flavour won't be as concentrated. More time works better if you have the time to spare)

Strain, discarding solids. Use immediately, or freeze for another day.

For the Soup:
3-4 cups cut up cooked turkey
1 red onion, diced
3 carrots, peeled and diced
a good sized shake of Epicure pesto seasoning (or a couple spoonfuls of prepared pesto)
a good shake of celery seed (I would have used fresh celery, but I didn't have it)
2-3 cups cooked penne (or other noodle as you like)
Broth to cover ingredients in pot (add water from the cooked pasta if necesary)

Saute the carrot and onion in a splash of oil. Add turkey, seasonings and broth. Bring to a boil. Then simmer until carrots and onion are cooked. Add noodles. Add salt and pepper to taste. Try to restrain yourself from eating 3 bowls at one sitting. :-) (Will freeze well).

Yum! What do you do with leftover turkey?

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays

2011-01-12T15:50:00.001-05:00

Some days it is just good to be reminded there are bigger issues in this world than the little nothings that I deal with. And it is good to be reminded that the best way to get over my troubles is to reach over to help some one else.

Compassion Bloggers

2011-01-11T06:00:00.000-05:00

Did you know that it has been a year since Haiti was devastated by its earthquake? January 12, 2010. The devastation was well reported and documented and mourned. But what about now, a year later? What is happening in Haiti? What is being done to help those people recover?

Compassion Canada President Barry Slauenwhite will be on 100 Huntley Street on January 12th to give a report on how Compassion International is making a difference in Haiti.

They are doing a good work. But the job is not over yet. For more information on how you can help with the current needs in Haiti please spend some time at the Compassion Canada Website. And of course, if you are not yet sponsoring a child, there are always children who you could help set free from the grip of poverty.

Heard At My House - The C.S. Lewis Edition

2011-01-10T08:58:00.002-05:00

Setting: Two beautiful girls washing my lunch dishes and using their best British accents to communicate with one another. And this nugget of observation:

9 year old Daughter: "*sigh* I just LOVE speaking Narnian."

Heart of the Matter Online

2011-01-05T08:43:00.001-05:00

It is Heart of the Matter time again. Please follow this link to read my latest article, which is actually part one of a series of four.

Christmas Countdown - Christmas Morning Edition

2010-12-25T07:37:00.002-05:00

Merry Christmas! Wishing you a joy-filled, hope-filled, Christ-worshipping day, today and all year long, as we focus our hearts and minds on the child that was born to be our King, our Saviour, our Redeemer!

Christmas Countdown

2010-12-23T17:24:00.004-05:00

I know, I know. It is Wednesday. I should be posting a Wow-ful Woman. I'm not. This is a man. You need to know, that I did not own this CD until I met my soon-to-be husband. This song instantly grabbed my heart. It may have felt incredibly autobiographical for Chris and I back in the day. Just sayin'.

And it usually made me cry like a girl. Apparently it still does (*ahem*). Christmas barely feels like Christmas until I hear this song. On the recorded version there is a lovely duet part added half way through, but I really, really, really like this SCC plus guitar version (particularly because then I can sing the duet part as if in a really excellent karaoke moment).

LOVE this song. LOVE.
Yay for Steven Curtis Chapman.

Christmas Countdown - Duet Style

2010-12-21T09:22:00.001-05:00

Okay, so don't mind the awkward Kathy Lee Gifford interview part at the beginning, but do enjoy the brilliantly talented Harry Connick Jr. with his adorable daughter, Kate. How much fun is this?

Building Family Traditions

2010-12-20T18:05:00.002-05:00

Sometime near or on December first, our family gets the house ready for Christmas. It has become known as “Tree Day” and it is one of the highlights of our year.

It isn’t anything fancy, really. We go out and buy a fresh tree. Sometimes, we don’t even all go and pick it out together. Most times, my husband goes out, by himself, and with very little pomp and circumstance, brings home a tree. Nothing remarkable about that.

Then we pull out our ornaments and put them on the tree. Now, some families have an ornament for every year that each child has lived, and special ones from special relatives, and memory ornaments of people who have passed on, and some have the crafty ones the kids made when they were little.

We don’t have those.

We have fairly normal, basic, gold and cream ornaments and some ribbon that we wind around the branches. Nothing remarkable about that.

While we are doing the tree, we are listening to Christmas music and eating ‘Christmas foods’. The foods are typically snacky appetizer types that we graze on while we decorate. Chips. Salsa. Cheese. Crackers. Nothing particularly remarkable about that either.

But you know what? This year, my 9 year old said, “I think I like this day almost better than Christmas morning.”

Now that’s remarkable. Why do you think that is?

Please read the rest of my latest Heart of the Matter article here.

Christmas Countdown

2010-12-16T06:00:00.000-05:00

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays - Christmas Edition

2010-12-15T06:00:00.000-05:00

This song was brand new to me last year, and I posted it near Christmas. I do believe it bears re-posting. I still always think I can get through this song dry-eyed, and everytime I'm wrong.

A Baby Changes Everything -- Faith Hill

Christmas Countdown

2010-12-13T08:55:00.002-05:00

There are soome Christmas songs that everyone covers because they are just that good. This is one of them. But there is something about this version, sung by the lyricist himself, that makes it my favourite version of it. Ever. Mark Lowry sings his song slower than most. And he sings it like he's really speaking to Mary, and really just as awed as she must have been to find out just who her son truly was.

Foodie Fridays

2010-12-10T09:36:00.002-05:00

In case you weren't aware, Christmas is coming. Rapidly. Like, very, very soon. And as we all know, Christmas has 2 challenges: First, to buy the perfect gift for the people on your lists; Second, to not gain 30 pounds. Can I get an "amen"?

So, in the middle of all your eating and baking and feasting, you may want something a little lighter to eat. Yet, it has to be simple, because who has time to fuss over breakfast?

A long time ago, I shared my family's favourite breakfast muffin recipe. Well, today, I am going to share my second favourite breakfast muffin recipe. You can't feel bad about eating a muffin that has no oil and no sugar added. Especially when it is still sweet and cakey and sticky and yummy. Okay, so here goes:

Totally Apple-icious Muffins (okay, that's a lame name, but it works!)

3 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup rolled oats
2-3 apples, not peeled, diced
2 tbsp baking powder
pinch of cinnamon (optional)
pinch of nutmeg (optional)
pinch of cloves (optional)
pinch of salt
1 cup unsweetened applesauce
2 eggs
2 cups apple juice

Mix the dry ingredients (and apples) in a large bowl. Make a well in the center. In the well, mix the wet ingredients. Combine all together to moisten, without over-stirring.

Scoop into muffin tins (greased, if need be) and bake at 375F for 17 minutes.

That's it! It makes about 20 muffins (sometimes more, sometimes less depending on how much your flour absorbs the liquid).

If you want to get fancy, add a cup of chopped nuts, or sprinkle the tops with brown sugar before baking. These make very moist, cakey muffins. I really like them. Hope you do too!

Christmas Countdown - Country Style

2010-12-09T10:23:00.001-05:00

Okay. Throw stones if you want, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only Country music liker out there. Especially a little *ahem* Garth Brooks. I won't lie. My Garth Brooks Christmas cassette is one of my favourites (clearly not favourite enough to justify dropping $9.99 on iTunes, but whatever. Maybe Santa reads my blog and wants to gift me with it this year!)

I really like this version of this song. Just kind makes me all happy and warm on the inside. (And I know you like it too, even if you pretend you don't!) :-)

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays - Christmas Edition

2010-12-08T06:00:00.002-05:00

Here it is: Our next installment of our Christmas Countdown! I really like this woman's voice. Did I ever tell you how I irritated the lady next to me when I saw Sarah McLachlan at the Western Fair? Yes, I know I did. How shameful. Still, she sings so prettily. This is just lovely, yes?

Okay: two for one today. Here is a totally different version of this song that takes me back to Christmases long ago! There is no video, just an album cover photo. I cannot tell you how many years I wore my hair just like that. And I can't tell you how many times I sang the descant in verse two thinking I might actually be a soprano, deep down inside (no. No. NO! really, reallly not a soprano...)

Christmas Countdown

2010-12-07T06:00:00.000-05:00

This carol speaks to me. Always has. And this version in particular is very stirring. Our choir sang this last year. Any WLA'ers able to still sing along?

This might be my favourite of the Christmas Countdown.

Christmas Countdown

2010-12-06T06:00:00.000-05:00

You need to just close your eyes now. And possibly have a tissue handy. There is no video to watch; only sublime beauty to hear.

Foodie Fridays

2010-12-03T06:00:00.001-05:00

Dear Amy,

My apologies for making you wait so long for this post! 4 weeks ago you asked me if I had a good recipe with any secret ingredients for Minestrone Soup, and I have left you high and dry until now. How have you survived?

I do, indeed, have a favourite Minestrone recipe. It began with a recipe from my already stated favourite cook book "Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone" by Deborah Madison. (Have you all bought this yet? You must!) Her Lentil Minestrone was my beginning platform, and I've tweaked it to make it one of my favourite soups.

Now before I give you the recipe, let me tell you a story about minestrone soup. (Bet you didn't know I had a story about minestrone soup. I have a story for almost anything!)

Way back in 1997 when Chris and I lived in Northern California for 6 months, we met a friend who took us to Il Fornaio restaurant in Sacremento. If that wasn't good enough, he actually took us there TWICE! Oh, Bliss! This was an Italian heaven, let me tell you. Now on to the soup part of the story. The first time we went it was November. We went out for my birthday. So nice. I ordered "Seasonal, Vegan Minestrone Soup" as my starter. It was light and tomatoey and full of perfectly diced veggies. Oh.dear.me. with a shaving of parmasean cheese on top....yes.

Then we went again in December just as we were on our way back home. I thought "I must have that perfect soup again before I die" and so I ordered it again. There was not a tomato in sight! It was thicker, heartier, and definitely with potatoes in it. Oh dear me, even better! Who knew? I asked the waiter and he graciously pointed me back to the menu where it said the soup is made with "seasonal vegetables". Of course!

And so my love of minestrone, in all its variations, began with fervor.

Now I have one basic recipe that I do mostly year round, but I do alter the contents slightly during different seasons. And as always, my quantities vary with how many folks I'm serving, and what happens to be in my fridge at the time. Enough preamble: on to the recipe!

Lentil Minestrone

2 tbsp olive oil
2 cups chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped parsley (Not that I measure it that closely)
1/4 cup chopped thyme (Or a good shake of the dried stuff)
4 garlic cloves, minced
6 carrots, peeled and diced
3 parsnips, peeled and diced
4 ribs celery, diced
1 cup green lentils (or just a big handful, really)
1 cup red lentils (ditto on the handful)
2 bay leaves (optional)
9 cups water, veggie broth, or beef broth
2 cans diced tomatoes (or crushed, for a thicker, more tomato-based soup, or one of each--that's what I usually do)
Good sized Splash of soy sauce (optional, but it gives a depth of flavour, especially if you used water or veggie broth)
Something Green, chopped (you can use fresh or frozen spinach, kale, chard, collards...)
Cabbage, shredded fine (as much as you like: I like lots. My kids? Not so much. Too bad for them! Bwahahaha!)
2-3 cups of small, cooked pasta (macaroni, mini shells, orzo, alphabet noodles...)
(Parmasean shavings to garnish, if desired)

(I know, it looks like a lot of ingredients, but they are just veggies, and you can chop them up and throw them in the pot as you go)

Heat the oil in a large soup pot. Saute the onions until lightly browning. Add the garlic, parsley, and cook another 2 minutes, or so. Add the lentils, bay leaves, thyme, and liquid. Bring to a boil. (while I'm waiting for the pot to boil, I start peeling and chopping, and tossing veggies in the pot as they are chopped.) Once it is boiling, turn it down to a simmer and add all the veggies (including cabbage and greens, especially if they are fresh, not frozen.) At this point you may say "wow Barbara, that was not enough liquid. My soup is way too thick!" You can add more broth, you can add another can of tomatoes, or you can add the water you cook the noodles in (see below). Sometimes the lentils seem to soak up more liquid than other times.

Let simmer until the lentils and veggies are cooked (say 30 minutes). Taste and add salt and pepper and soy sauce to taste. Remove the bay leaves and stir in the pasta, with some or all of the cooking water if the soup is too thick still.

That's all! Now, it can keep simmering indefinitely. And I have made this in the crock pot, omitting the olive oil step at the beginning. Just toss it all in the crock pot overnight on low. Then add the pasta just before serving.

If you want to make it a Winter Minestrone, cut back on the canned tomatoes and increase the broth, and add 3 cups peeled, diced potatoes with the other veggies.

And secret tip: Soup always tastes better on day two, so if you want to make it ahead and reheat the next day that's a good plan. Or just really enjoy the leftovers! Also secret tip number 2: If the soup tastes a little bland right away or the next day, but you don't think salt will help, try squeezing the juice of a lemon into the pot. It won't taste really lemony in the soup, but it will make the flavours POP!Enjoy!

Compassion Bloggers

2010-12-02T06:00:00.001-05:00

Our family has a child that we sponsor through Compassion. His name is Juan and he lives in Colombia. It is truly amazing how connected one can feel to a child they will likely never meet just by reading their letters and looking at their pictures.

Juan was in a very serious accident a few years ago, and we have prayed with him and his family as we wait for his recovery. It is a long slow process, especially considering the limitations of finances and access to medical care that Juan's family has.

We praise the Lord for the Compassion Project and the local church that are coming alongside Juan's family to help support them and care for them in very practical ways. We rejoice when Juan says that he loves Jesus and knows that God can heal him, if He chooses. We are so grateful to be even a small part of his life. And we know that we often get too busy and get behind in our letter writing, wondering what difference a note from us might make.

Well, if I ever had any doubt about the difference a sponsor makes in these kids' lives, along comes this video. If you aren't already a subscriber to Shaun Groves' blog, you really should be. If nothing else, seeing his blog will remind you to write to your child. And if you haven't sponsored a child yet, maybe this will be the nudge you need to do it. What a difference a prayer makes. I love this story.
God is so good!

Please follow this link to see this testimony from the family of the girl that Shaun Groves' sponsors.

And then follow this link to learn more about how you can make a difference in a child's life.

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays - Christmas Edition

2010-12-01T06:00:00.001-05:00

Welcome to a month of Wow-ful Christmas Women! Now that it is December, I feel quite free to pour upon thou some fabulous Christmas Wow-fulness.

Our first spectacle is the stunning video full of stunning vocals that caused me to flood my house last Christmas Eve. (what? You don't remember that post? Oh, go back and read it. It's a doozy.)

Enjoy! Celtic Woman -- O Holy Night.

What's in a Name?

2010-11-29T09:46:00.003-05:00

If you are anything like me, which I'm sure you are, there are times when you just haven't got a foggy clue what you are doing, and you are pretty sure that no one has ever felt as lost as you, and that no one could ever possibly get the disaster your brain is in. Can I get an "amen"? Anyone? Thank you.

I remember one such time. It was way back in the days of "the Townhouse" which is code for "the days when, yes we were living in the townhouse, but more than that it was in the time of life when we had 4 kids under the age of 4, and I was embroiled in my biggest life battle to date".

Someone had directed me to a blog and forum for moms where I went to find someone who understood me. Someone who'd been there. I tried to submit two questions about my state of confusion and exhaustion on the forum. The first they refused to post as it "encouraged something the moderators didn't endorse". So the second question, I made sure to be broad and unoffensive and something that would stir some helpful conversation.

What I said was something like this: "I'm a very young mom. I stay at home with my kids all the time. I love it and wouldn't have it any other way, but I'm really tired. And sometimes pretty sad. Can anyone relate?" What I received back was a bunch of platitudes and "right answers".

"No, I love it! I'm so blessed to be at home and I never feel tired or grumpy at all!"

"No, the joy of the Lord is *my* strength. I sure never feel sad at home at all!"

"Who could ever feel lonely when Jesus is your present help and comfort?"

And you know what? I knew all that. I knew that was supposed to be my reality, but the reality was that I was still tired: physically, emotionally, spiritually tired. My spiritual life was not stagnant. I was not being disobedient, or ungrateful, or rebellious. I had a wonderful husband with a fabulous marriage, and a supportive church. My little children were good sleepers and fairly obedient, all things considered. Life wasn't bad. I wasn't complaining. I was just a busy, tired woman. And no one understood. Or so I thought. They weren't hearing me. They weren't getting me. They couldn't help me.

One day in my quiet time I sat down hoping to hear a word of encouragement in my daily reading. I felt a strange prompting to read 1 Chronicles 3:8. Really? Really.

I kind of ignored it, but it wouldn't go away, so I finally turned to that spot thinking I was probably imagining things. Sure enough, the verse says this: "Elishama, Eliada, and Eliphelet". Nope. Not a word from the Lord. Just a list of names.

I tried to move on, back to my scheduled reading for the day, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was to read that passage again. So I did, and the whole chapter looking for something in the context. Nothing. It is just a list of the descendants of David. I was hoping that those 3 names were not the ordained names for my next 3 children!

Still, I felt like I was supposed to "get" something out of that verse. Finally, I thought to look up in a bible dictionary what those names meant.

Here's what those names mean, and what the Lord wanted me to know that day: "The Lord hears, The Lord knows, and The Lord will deliver."

He understood me. He heard my prayers. He knew my heart. And, as my present help in times of trouble, he would deliver me in his time and in his way.

How grateful I was that day for 3 funny sounding names. And how grateful I am still that we have a Lord who sympathizes with our weakness, and who understands our frailty, and who can speak to any specific circumstance in our day through the Word.

What does the Lord mean to speak to you today? What burden do you need Him to carry for you? He is more than able. And more than willing. And that is a very, very good thing.

What Love Looks Like

2010-11-20T09:15:00.001-05:00

You’ve seen the movie: the music swells in the background, the lights darken around the edges with one bright, piercing ray of sun shining in the center of the screen, while a perfectly manicured, make-upped and hair-dooed couple embrace, vowing that *this* is forever.

Or maybe you’ve seen this one: the house is burning to the ground and the stunningly gorgeous, yet humble girl-next-door-type is trapped in the upper floor, having swooned gracefully and fallen in a semi-conscious state to the smoldering ground. With her, seemingly, last breath she calls out the name of the man whom she has, up to this point in the film, scorned, and who, unbeknownst to the citizens of this quaint little town, was a firefighter before he hit the bottle following the death of his first wife, and who, just now, as he realized he was about to lose this woman forever, found the courage to suit up again in the uniform of his former life, swearing off of the Devil’s elixir forever, and climbed into the towering inferno and towards certain death just to see her one.more.time. And as he reaches her in that semi-conscious state, he calls out her name too and lovingly cradles her perfect head in his sculpted arms, and as she flutters her eyes open one last time, she says, “You came back for me” to which he responds “I’ll never leave you again”; then depending on what kind of ending you like in a movie they either die together there in the fire so that their love is never less perfect than it was in that moment, or they leap out of the window into the pillow-like field of forget-me-nots and live happily ever after.

*sigh*

I don't know about you, but this isn't what life in my house looked like this week. To read what love really looked like in my house, click here to read the rest of my latest Heart of the Matter Article.

Wow-ful Women Wednesdays

2010-11-10T15:22:00.002-05:00

You have to love Miss Piggy. And who doesn't think Christopher Reeve is dreamy? A little lighter fare for this spring-like November day. (My 11 year old is doubting the Wow-fulness of today's post. Don't you think Miss Piggy is pretty Wow-ful?)
:-)

Honing Hospitality

2010-10-30T11:51:00.005-04:00

The tables were set up in the basement and were covered with the longest tablecloth we could find. All of us were there. All 15 of us. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. This was a big deal because it meant that my family had made the trek between two provinces to be at Grandma's house for Christmas. The food was SO good, like always. The chatter around the table was loud and continual. And we all ended the meal significantly more full than we intended. This was good. There was just nothing like my Grandma Mary's turkey, dressing, and gravy.

Nothing like it, except, for my mom's. Her Thanksgivings and Christmases were legendary. Equally long table, at least as many guests, and the flavours and textures just as satifsying as Grandma's. And delicious. And comfortably predictable. My mom would toss the bread crumbs with some of this and some of that, and one more shake of something else until it smelled just like *that*, and I knew that she had reached dressing perfection again for another year. And once, when my grandparents made the inter-provincial trek to our house, my Grandpa gave my mom the best compliment ever: "This is just as good as Mary's". My mom had a couple of tears in her eyes when she told me what Grandpa had said. And now I knew I had two women to match up to. I wanted to cook as well, and host as well, as my Mom and my Grandma. But, boy, was that bar highly raised.

Fast forward to my first year of marriage. There's our one bedroom apartment. There's my squashy little galley kitchen and squashier dining "room" in builder's beige. The table is set just so with all of our pretty wedding gifts and my Mom and Dad are bringing Grandma over to see "Barb and Chris' first home". The budget was pretty slim in those days. What can I serve to these two women who I absolutely adore, and whose opinion of me (and my domestic skills) really, really matters to me? It needs to be something simple, something economical (clearly!), something familiar for Grandma (no Thai or tofu that day), and something that looks fairly foolproof.

I pick the menu. I follow the recipe, and then tweak it so I like it. Main course; side dishes; mom will bring dessert. After ensuring it is all hot at the same time, after making sure there is plenty, after making sure Grandma is comfortable, after making sure we all eat enough, we clear the table, wash the dishes, drink our coffee and have a great visit.

And then.

My Mom and Dad drive Grandma home. As soon as she gets home, Mom calls me. "Honey. I just wanted to tell you what a lovely time we had at your place. You and Chris are doing such a nice job of setting up your home. It was really lovely. But I also want to tell you that Grandma commented on the main course you made. She says she likes how you do it better than how she does it, and could she have your recipe."

I gasp slightly. Before I recover fully, my Mom states the obvious for emphasis, "That's quite the compliment."

Here I was: a young married woman who grew up having dreams of having her own cooking show on TV (really!), and who grew up LOVING the comfy home-life, and appreciating the gift of company, and benefitting from the blessing of hospitality. For me to hear my Grandma ask for my recipe was certainly a great encouragement in the right direction.

Who knew then, mere months into my marriage, that I would be now cooking for 9 people everyday, plus the friends and family that we have the chance to have over on occassion. I thank the Lord for my home, and my family, and for the love of cooking. And for the Mom and Grandma who both set an incredible example, and encouraged me in my pursuit of the same.

It is amazing how one little comment of my Grandma's, likely off the cuff and not intended to be as pivotal as it was, could buoy up my heart and give me such confidence. Sometimes that's all it takes for one moment to direct your story.

The Compassion Blog is inviting you to share your story too. Follow this link to find out all the details. You can also read Shaun Groves' plea for your story, as well as his own story of how a well-time word can change a life. What's your story? Leave a comment below or consider blogging it. If you blog your story please leave a link in the comments here, or on the Compassion Blog, so that we can be encouraged by your tale.