My Father’s Promises

Promise Journal

 “I am telling you the truth: those who believe in me will do what I do—yes,

they will do even greater things, because I am going to the Father.

And I will do whatever you ask for in my name,

so that the Father’s glory will be shown through the Son. 

If you ask me for anything in my name, I will do it” John 14:12-14

 Wow!  Whatever I ask for in Jesus name—there has to be a catch?  Right?  Or we would all be rich as kings on the beach in the south of France—who would want the Bahamas if they could have the south of France?

• What you ask has to line up with what God promises.  If you do not know what God promises, you do not know what’s available.  What does God promise?  Remember that song “Make Me Glad”?  “You are my shield, my strength, my portion, deliver, my shelter, strong tower, my ever present help in time of need?”
  • Prosperity
  • Healing
  • Protection
  • Strength
  • Family
  • Encouragement
  • Help
  • More

 If you do not know what God wants to do for you, how can you ask God to do it for you and have FAITH and HOPE that it will be done?  God’s words are not only an instruction manual for how He works, but they are also a love letter to His children.  Maybe you are missing out on what he has planned for you because you have not opened his “e-mails.”

Dear Father, I thank you for everything you have done for me.  I thank you for what you’re going to do for me.  I thank you that today my body will be stronger, my mind will be shaper, and that not only will I be blessed by my family, but I will be a blessing to them, too.  I pray that today I will let somebody know about the love of Jesus Christ either through words or actions.  I thank you for answer my prayer because Jesus said you would—it lines up with your promises for it is in His name I pray.

Thanksgiving: The Celebration of God and Capitalism

“The Lord is the Help of My Life”  – William Bradford

The first Pilgrims came to American so they could worship The God of Abraham, read The Gospel of Love and  experience the second Baptism without being drowned in a wine barrel, be burned alive boarded up in your own home, or have your entrails slowly pulled out of you in the town square as government officials attempted to turn you away from your faith. They came to America to be able to speak God’s name in the town square in the court house, on the public streets, in the school houses - to live and voice their belief without fear of persecution.

In America, they discovered the rationing of socialism and the plenty of capitalism through the work of their own hands – not their neighbors. They broke the glass ceiling of class restriction – like the cranberries we eat on Thanksgiving that float to the top in the harvest when water rushes through the cranberry fields, so does hardwork, effort, talent – all based on individual gumption – not religion, not class, not government.

This year’s Thanksgiving Holiday is full of irony – a House and Senate have left Washington D.C. to celebrate a holiday founded on the success of Capitalism and faith in God, yet daily they work to strip God out of the very places Pilgrims sought to freely worship their God – the city streets, the court houses, the schools – they wanted God in every part of their lives, their community, and their government.

Yet daily, these government officials attempt to strip the foundations of Capitalism and reduce Americans to the once starving, frustrated, dying, struggling Pilgrims who started out in socialism – who died in socialism – hungry and frustrated.  Until the American Spirit through a capitalist contract  replaced the socialist creed to break the bonds of servitude unleashing individual potential resulting in the American Dream. 

While Socialism binds the hands of flourishing enterprise, smothers the seeds of creativity from which inventions spring, and suffocates the very breath of freedom, Capitalism frees the hands of enterprise, allows individual creativity the independence to invent, and  gives freedom breath to speak without recourse.

How ironic that today our government officials celebrate an event so diametricly opposed to their actions these last few weeks and months.

This book is sitting on my desk right now.  My sons know the history of our country, but not through classroom textbooks because the full, real history of the birth of our country not taught. 

My next source for further explanation might not be considered “cool” by some; however, it is one of the few resources that serve a full-bodied history of Thanksgiving at a time in when others try to serve fast-food history.  I hope you will listen to the story and ignore the teller – if the teller interferes with the story. I, for one, am glad someone is willing to put the True Story of America’s Birth out there on Thanksgiving Day!

 ”Ladies and gentlemen, every Thanksgiving, there’s a tradition on this program, every Thanksgiving I go and grab my book, the first book that I wrote, See, I Told You So, hardback, two and a half million sold, counting the paperback, probably close to five million.  On page 70, there’s a chapter on The Real Story of Thanksgiving.  Now, how many of you grew up and how many of your children are growing up today being taught this: The Pilgrims arrived, and it was cold, and it was inhospitable in the New World.  And they were ill-equipped to fend for themselves, and they were bedraggled and they were tired and they were hungry and they were thirsty and they were incapable of getting along, and finally the Indians, who they would later massacre, the Indians befriended the Pilgrims and showed them about corn and maize and created a big feast of turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce and maybe even some cheese broccoli.  They all sat down and they had Thanksgiving together, and it was the Pilgrims thanking the Indians for saving their wretched lives.  And then of course after all of this mercy showed by the Indians, these Pilgrims and their descendants went out and wiped ‘em out and put ‘em on revolutionaries where they became alcoholics and now they run casinos.  

“That, ladies and gentlemen, is the traditional story of Thanksgiving, is it not?  In fact, the Pilgrims and their descendants not only brought all of the plagues, they brought syphilis, they brought environmental destruction, racism, sexism, bigotry, even brought homophobia.  Stole Manhattan for 24 bucks, they cheated the Indians, they cheated the Indians who had saved their lives by buying Manhattan for 24 bucks and some trinkets.  It was the first ever subprime loan, ladies and gentlemen, the first ever subprime mortgage, 24 bucks.  The Indians got screwed royally.  This is what your kid is likely taught these days in the multicultural curricula in school.  Do you know the real story of Thanksgiving?  The Pilgrims arrived and they had to immediately find a way to make a living.  They had to find a way to support themselves, and this is, by the way, all contained in William Bradford, he was the first governor, if you will, of the colony.  William Bradford in his own writings, which I quote in my book See, I Told You So, William Bradford describes their first experiment.  

They gave everybody a plot of land.  Everybody produced what they produced and it went into a single store, it went into a communal store where everybody was then able to partake what they needed and what they wanted from what everybody else had produced.  Bradford found that this led to a bunch of slackers, a bunch of slackers not producing anything.  They just sat around and waited for what the others in the colony produced.  It didn’t work!  The first ever experiment with socialism on this country was undertaken by the Pilgrims in the 1600s.  Bradford said this isn’t gonna work and got a different idea.  He gave everybody their own plot of hand, he assigned them their own plot of land and said whatever you produce here is yours.  You keep it.  And he writes of the miracle that happened after that.  The industriousness and the ambition that was utilized by the Pilgrims, that is when they became prosperous, that is when they had bounty, that is when they had more than they knew what to do with.  

So they invited the Indians over, and the whole notion of Thanksgiving was William Bradford and the original Pilgrims thanking God for their blessings.  It was not thanking the Indians for saving their lives and showing them how to make broccoli with cheese for Thanksgiving.  They might have been grateful for the popcorn, I’m sure they didn’t have that over there in England, but nevertheless, that’s the story.  The first ever experiment with socialism failed, and liberals have been trying to reinstitute it ever since.  Read it.  It’s on page 70, See, I Told You So, authored by me, the one and only El Rushbo.” Rush Limbaugh, 10/28/2008 http://www.rushlimbaugh.com/home/daily/site_102808/content/01125109.member.html

The Secret to Thanksgiving Dinner: The Oysters!

Yeah, ladies!  Oysters are the key to a true feast – Thanksgiving, Christmas, and January Fun-feast meal!  The pre-requisite feasting delight is not the must-have turkey and my especially yum dressing or whatever feasty dessert conjured up.I refuse to be shewish and withold the key to Feasting Success from you – though my grandmother would be so tempted to do so!

You know how your children bubble excitement to share a turtle, or slimy worm, or somthing unrecognizable which you truly wish to never see again.  Well, right now, I am so excited – just like my boys are when they present me with what they think are great gifts.  So, even if you feel repugnance, just turn on that Mom-Mode smile and encourage me in my Joy of Feasting Moment.

I have been waiting months to share this with you – and did not want to wait until it came out of the oven on Thanksgiving Day!)

Christmas Oysters (Scalloped Oysters)

From the Cabbage Patch Cookbook (sadly out of print)

 3 pts oysters (2 large fresh containers)

Cracker crumbs (hand crushed) (Zesta Crackers)

2 eggs

1-1/2 Cup half and half

½ Cup oyster liquor

Salt and pepper to taste

½ lb. Butter or margarine

 Cover bottom of baking dish with cracker crumbs.  Put in layers of oysters.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper and bits of butter.  Repeat until dish is almost full.  Sprinkle cracker crumbs, salt and pepper on top and dot with remaining butter.  Beat eggs with half and half and oyster liquor.  Pour over oysters. (Aunt Joyce and I pour extra half-and-half until you see it just below surface) Bake in moderate oven about 30-45 min.(more like 1 hour) until custard is set and top golden brown(it will soufflé up while in oven and settle down when taken out)

This great Holiday-Feast-Must-Have comes out of the over a lovely looking souffle!  Can it get better than this? I do not think so!

 

A Thank-you-God Thanksgiving

Christmas is creeping up, but Thanksgiving is just around the corner.  I started thinking about what I am thankful for. 

You might have heard the song, “What if Jesus comes back today,” but what if Jesus had not come yet today?

Imagine – only going to temple once a year to pray and say, “God, help me. . . . God, heal my son. . . .God, send mentor’s across his path to open his eyes to Your Truth. . .God, I am scared. . .God, can you hold me because I feel like crying right now and I don’t think anyone else can understand except you. . .God, forgive me – I really missed it today. . .

Imagine – saving it all up – all that need bundled up only to be released once a year.  Buy the spotless lamb and offer it at the temple for sacrifice – just to be able to cover your sin so God could gaze upon your need once a year, hear you, and comfort you.  

No emergency room pleas, “Dear Father, save my son.”

No twilight drops to the knees, “Dear Father, help my son be the man you created him to be”

No huddles in the closet when everything is overwhelming, “Dear Father, lift me up, hold me, comfort me”

Only yearly visits to the temple to say, “Father, help me.”

And that is only if you were a biological apple on Abraham’s family tree.

I would have been a gentile. A gentile did not even have the one-year temple visit with God.  Gentiles were unclean.  Gentiles were not in the family.

No hope! No help! No Mercy! Nothing!

Just waiting, waiting for God to send His son who would be the permanent living sacrifice to forever, once and for all cover my sin so that God would not turn away in disgust at the filth of my soul – Because of Jesus sacrifice – the sacrifice with a life-time warrently replacing the lamb whose blood apparently secured a 1 year warranty – God looks upon me, watches me, never takes His eye off me or my children

He is beside my sons on the soccer field, on the playgroun, at school, at a friend’s house , as long as they’ll have Him there

He was in the delivery room when the doctor said, “I don’t have a heartbeat,” and He held my son in the palm of His hand until he was born, health and hole with APGARs of 9

He heard my please for a faithful husband who would love  and value me, and sent my husband to me

He heard the prayes of a little girl in the back yard on a Spring day, calling out to Him, to please love her and never abandon her

He heard the prayers of a mother who son was tormented by stomach pain for 5 years and sent a laborer with the name of a doctor who took that pain away

and a mother’s prayer for her sons’ wives

prayers for children, friends, family, strangers

 for fear, for deliverance, for pain, for confusion, prayers for forgiveness

prayers in my van, at my kitchen sink, in a grocery store, the laundry room, lots of prayers in my van

asking prayers, praise prayers,

forgiving prayers,

and thanking prayers

Anywhere

Anytime

all because

God sent His son

Thank you, God

from your daughter, adopted into the family of Abraham, because Jesus said so!

 

 

Simply Saturday

A day where you might find yourself without anything to say

And you do not need to

say

anything

These are the days my sons dream about – when their mom has absolutely

nothing

to

say

 

When I grow up, I want to be. . .

Some of my sons dream of being a soccer professional or a football player. One wanted to be a garbage man. Another wanted to be a bladesmith crafting authentic reproduction swords. Military dreams, entrepreneurship dreams, maybe a drummer in a band.

My little guy, he dreams of being an artist.  He came home the other day, bummed out about his dream.  “Some kids in my class draw better than me.  Maybe I need to pick something else to be.”

This little guy has been living his dream since he could walk. He creates story art all the time.  He snags his dad to build furniture with leftover wood from home projects: wooden beds (think seven dwarf size), tables and little bench chairs.  He lamented that he had outgrown them the other day.

I bought a bag of fuzzy pom poms.  He made dozens of fuzzy people.  We had an entire fuzzy community! He gave a box of them to his cousin for his birthday.  His cousin took them everywhere.

Scissors and paper call him to come make art of them. And he does.

I have boxes of art, pictures he drew of me and dad full of I love yous.  I found art on the door to my bedroom the other day. Have you ever felt like you lived in a factor? An art factory?

I walked into the garage a couple of weeks to discover a teepee made of slates from an unused bed.

My artist felt like giving up because someone drew better.

Maybe he would grow up and open an ice cream store, he said.  Yes, an ice cream store with a wafer cone on top. It would have his favorite ice cream from The Marble Slab.  Yes, maybe that is what he would do. I boarded that ice-cream truck dream!  Who wouldn’t want to have a son who had an ice cream store!

But we also talked about the different kinds of artists: industrial artists, wood craftsmen, potters, cartoonists, architects, and so many more. Then we talked about how to increase his skill level.  This summer we bought some great books on how to draw lots of things, but they cannot help if they are not opened.

He is at an interesting stage in his life right now.  He is standing on the edge, trying to muster up the energy, the desire, the want to jump to the next level. Sometimes my boys go through a stage where they stagnate, burrow into laziness and discontent.  He has been discontent lately, feeling like he is not smart enough or talented enough. The realization dreams require work, actual effort do not mean that you are not smart enough or talented enough.  God gives giftings.  Those giftings take you only so far.  Work ethic is needed to reach the goal. He just did not want to work hard. Dreams, after all, just magically appear out of a heart’s desire, right?

Until this week, when the sleeping lion stirred from dreaming, waking up.  He’s working hard now, reading, drawing, mathematics. Success, confidence, work ethic are blooming like a warm spring after a cold, dark winter.

He brought out the scissors today along with the colored paper.

In a few years, he is going to be in c ollege, standing on the edge of the nest beside me, trying to muster up the courage to jump and fly. I felt that way with my oldest. It was time to take that next jump.  If he would not jump, I would have given a helpful push.  I did not have to push – he jumped and soared.

Right now my little guy is ready to take the next step.  He is trying to take his dreams to the next level. I can figuratively hold his hand and help him to that next level. I will savor that opportunity for a short time longer. In a few years, he will not need that hand.  He will jump and soar, all on his own. 

When he grows up, I want him to live his dreams, instilled in him by a mighty God.  However, all dreams take hard work – and that takes choice. As a mom, it is so exciting to see the gifts and the dreams with the human resource character that God placed in him unfold. What tremendous relief to know that God knows all His needs – and does not keep solutions a secret, but lets me know what my little guy needs.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
       your works are wonderful,
       I know that full well.

 My frame was not hidden from you
       when I was made in the secret place.
       When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

 your eyes saw my unformed body.
       All the days ordained for me
       were written in your book
       before one of them came to be”(Psalm 139: 14-16)

Years ago, when I was 6, I wanted to be a writer.  It took hard work, determination in the face of adversity – and choice. I chose to pursue my dream. I will encourage each of my sons to pursue their dreams, too!  Is it not amazing that God created our hearts, our toes, all those little blood vessels, finger nails, even, noise hair along with our souls, and then gave us the tone or our voices, individual laughter, and sneezes. And then he placed a dream in us that would lead us to what He created us to be – not a dream to torment and bring unhappiness, but one that brings joy! My God is utterly amazing – and I never realized just how utterly amazing until I had children.

The Blue Cotton Blanket

One upon a time, long ago, where blue grass grew in Main Street America, and front porch swings were a safe place to watch life go by, I packed my bags, folded up my new cobalt blue comforter with Dogwood Rose colored flowers to go out in the world and, if not meet my destiny, then hunt it down like a terrior unleashed who finds the world so big that sometimes it is hard to figure which way to go.

 My comforter was there through my college career, wrapped around me as I studied, worked on projects, or just needed a comfort moment.  In a college dorm room, bedding is the primary décor statement (wall décor second).  My Cobalt blue comforter with its Dogwood Rose colored flowers symbolized my boldness – no weak, thinned out blue pastel or wall flower pink – no – I was going to shape my future to my dreams – Cobalt blue spoke strength, determination, adventure.

 Three years later, I stepped further into my future.  My spirit gentled.  My new comforter was Shabby Chic White with faint slashes of tea green and misty rose.  My fading Cobalt Blue comforter, now Carolina Blue found itself folded over a chair for cuddling on the couch or naps.

Until my son was born. The blue seemed to brighten with a renewed vitality. Thrown on the floor, it provided a soft place to fall. As morning wore on, sleepiness pulling both of us, we’d wrap the blue around and fall into the snuggly Kingdom of Nap.

 When he turned 2, I decorated his Big Boy Room.  He picked out a Snoopy Quilt with a blue background for his Big Boy Bed.  During nap time one afternoon, when he was just 3, he dragged his blanket into my room, setting it on my bed.  “I think you should have this blanket, Mom.  It’s so much nicer.  I’ll let you have it,” he said as he slowly inched my fading into stone washed Corn Silk blue blanket over his shoulders and backed out of the room. “I’ll just take this one since you won’t be needing it now that you have my nice Snoopy blanket.”

 And there began a back and forth, a sneak and take for a few years until it just stayed in his room, wrapped around him during sleep, snuggly time, movie time, and, yes, even spend the night time.  Time faded the blanket to periwinkle.  Not all the seams were there. That blanket went with him to college, all faded and full of memories. The pink had washed to a leached out white.

 One day, he brought The Girl home, the girl who would be his wife.  They set a date.  Then, one Christmas, six months before the wedding, he came home with his blanket and left it behind. The faded blue blanket just lay there. . . . .

 Until one day, my 3^rd son picked it up, wrapped it around himself, and wandered off with it to snuggle into sleep, watch a movie, or read, even on overnight sleepovers – terribly faded, terribly worn, terribly loved –

(I had to wrestle it away to take a picture).

The Most Beautiful Sound of All

Some of the most beautiful sounds in my world are my children laughing, my sons singing, and the morning call of the Cardinal.

Sometimes it  is the sound of my bacon frying, water splashing in the tub, or my cat purring.

My husband might say it is the sound of the vacume being run, the dishwasher cycling, and the washer and dryer humming along.

Sometimes its the sound of the phone ringing heralding the voice of a loved one. Maybe it’s classical music with violins, French horns, and cymbols clanging.

Sometimes, though, the most beautiful sound every created by God, man, or beast is simply the sound of silence.

What is really means to be a Princess

.

I love fairy tales about princesses.  They go through tough times but they still behave like a princess, with gentleness, nobleness, and strength. Though a princess may appear to be abandoned and suffer at the hands of others, the princess has a hero looking for her, someone strong enough to lift her out of her ugliness and put her back where she belongs, in the position of a beloved princess.

This is not a fairy tale, though.  I am a princess – I am the daughter of The King! How amazing is that!  I did not grasp that until I was 37 years old.  Do you realize what being the daughter of The King entails? Think about it.  Walk it out during your day, in your dealings with other people.  If you are a child of God, you are a princess!

 “Do not be afraid, Abram.  I am your shield, your very great reward”(Gensis 15:1)

A princess need never be afraid when her Father is the King!

 ”As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations; Your name will be  Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations. I will make you fruitful; I will make nations of you, and kings will come from you.  I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you And your descendants after you for The generations to come, to Be your God and the God of your descendants after you. The whole land of Canaan, where you are now an alien, I will give as an everlasting possession to you and your descendants after you; and I will be their God”(Genesis 17:4-8).

My earthly father might have walked out on me, but I was adopted into Abraham’s family because of Jesus Christ.  That means this is my history, too! God promises to Abraham are promises to me, all because of Jesus!

 “I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you; I will make your name great, And you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, And whoever curses you I will curse; And all peoples on earth will be blessed through you”(Genesis 12:2-3)

 I am a BLESSING!  Do you hear that – a BLESSING! – and guess what, my Father will take care of those who mess with me! He will Champion His child, his princess!

 I always wondered how Jesus could love me as much as He loved Peter, James, and John.  I would say, “Sure he does,” but that is not how I felt inside.  I wanted Jesus to love me like that, but I still wondered,”Oh, I’m not good enough or special enough for that.” When you do not have an earthly father who thinks you are special are a blessing, are worth championing, who thinks you beautiful (every girl should have a father who thinks she’s beautiful), it is difficult to imagine that God would. 

 Then one day I understood:  I am a daughter of the King.  Imagine being a daughter of the King—how people treat you, how you are provided for, how you are valued and loved.

Never let anyone take away your inheritance, your heritage, your place in the family, in the kingdom!

You are a Princess

A daughter of The King

Walk it!

Think it!

Be it!

All the way down to the tiptoes of your soul!

Dear Father, Thank you for loving me as much as you loved Peter, James, John, and Abraham.  Thank you for being my God.  Thank you for sending Jesus so I could be a daughter of the King.  It is in your son’s name that I thank you and take my rightful place as a favored child in the family of God

 

 

The Friendship Table

Come join me with my friends, my BFFS, my peeps that I left behind in The Promised Land when I moved out of state.  We created a blog, The Friendship Table, where we can still share recipes for a friendship dinner – the next closest thing to being there. Friends are such gifts from God! 

Here is my desert contribution:

Tres Leche Cake

(MarthaStewart.Com)

Evaporated, condensed, and whole milk are combined in this cake for just the right amount of sweetness. Make the cake up to three days in advance and refrigerate it. It’s traditionally served chilled and topped with whipped cream but is also delicious with chopped pineapple.

Unsalted butter, room temperature, for baking dish

6 large eggs, separated

1 cup sugar

1 cup all-purpose flour, sifted

1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk

1 can(12 ounces) evaporated milk

1 cup whole milk

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

1 tablespoon confectioners’ sugar

Directions

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. In a mixing bowl, beat egg yolks and sugar on high speed until light and fluffy. In another bowl, beat egg whites to soft peaks. Using a rubber spatula, fold whites into yolks until almost combined. Gently fold in flour (do not overmix).

Spread batter in prepared dish. Bake until golden and pulling away from sides of dish, 20 to 25 minutes. Using a small knife, scrape skin from top of cake; discard. Cool cake 20 minutes.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the three milks; pour evenly over cake. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate at least 1 hour and up to 1 day.

To serve, prepare topping: In a mixing bowl, whip heavy cream with sugar to soft peaks. Chill cake and cut into squares; serve topped with whipped cream.

The Saddest Sight in the World

Some of you might remember this from “Scary Mommy? Boo!” - well, hang on because I have something truly amazing.  Please read through to the end.

“SCARY MOMMY has a pretty scary sense of humor.  When one son, whom we call “Bear” got in the car after soccer practice all cold and shivering, I asked him,” What’s the saddest sight in the whole wide world?”

“I don’t know. Your cooking?” he answered. I almost forgot my joke.

“A hairless bear shivering with cold,” I answered. 

Now readers,

you need

to visualize that

before you can truly appreciate the SCARY MOMMY humor.”

I was right!

There really is nothing sadder in the world

than a hairless bear

shivering with cold

if you group all the sadder-in-the-world things that are truly freaky, scary funny

but not truly sad

like

a newborn baby who needs its stomach, which is pushed up into its lung area, put back

or the loss of life, homes, andjobs in Manilla after tropical cyclones wreaked havoc,

or the loneliness and hopelessness without God

Is it not wonderful that The Joy of the Lord is our Strength!(Neh 8:10)  That joy and laughter strengthen!  God is so detail oriented that He not only invented awe-inspiring joy, but tiny pockets of joy, release valve joy, decreasing pressure and stress  – the invention of unusual places to find moments of laughter that cause joyfulness to bubble up inside, bubbling into a smile, a funny, joyful moment- an indecisive squirrel in the middle of the road, a headless turtle, or a collie carrying the neighbor’s Christmas wreathes – and - yes, even in a hairless bear shivering with cold.

I pray you find joy and laughter today, not just in the sentimental, but in the unexpected. What are some unusual places you have found a burst of laughter and a spot of joy?

 

♥ When I am Old and Smoke a Pipe with Vanilla Tobacco

When I am old, I will smoke a pipe with vanilla tobacco.  By the time I am 85 years old, smoking a pipe of vanilla tobacco will not negatively affect my health.  I will be too old to negatively influence my children, and my great grand children will remember me.  There will be, I am sure, many things I will not want to do, but I think the hardest thing will be to resist the urge to speak to my children, my grandchildren, and my great grand children in Disney Language (Disneyese).

So that when my son says, “Mom, I was thinking . . . .”

I will not answer, “A dangerous past time, I’m sure”(Beauty and the Beast).

 Nor will I respond to misplaced temper with, “…and most of all…Control your temper(Beauty andthe Beast)

When somone askes me who the older gentleman is with my 10th grandson’s wife, I will not say, “The crazy old coot is belle’s father.”

No matter how temping, when my great grand-sons are whining about pulling some weeds, I will not say, like Grumpy did, “A fine bunch of water lilies you turned out to be.”

Nor will Ion any occasion sing to my sons, my grandsons, and my great grandsons about what kind of man they need to be:

“[men] BE A MAN
We must be swift as a coursing river
[men] BE A MAN
With all the force of a great typhoon
[men] BE A MAN
With all the strength of a raging fire
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon”(Mulan)(This one is going to be a hard one to resist!)

Neither will I encourage the eating of lettuces:  romaines, butterheads, radicchio, arugula or endive by saying, “Eating greens is a special treat, It makes long ears and great big feet. But it sure is awful stuff to eat”(Bambi).

And when my 2 year old great grand-daughter jabbers to me, in a languge I cannot understand, I will not say, “Look, you’re really cute, but I can’t understand what you’re saying” (Finding Nemo).

Despite their good intentions, when my children try to wake me up at 5 a.m. to take me to the beach with them, I will not sound like Madam Mim, “I  hate sunshine! I hate horrible, wholesome sunshine! I hate it! I hate it! I hate, hate, hate!” and pull the covers back over my head (The Sword and the Stone).

Nor will I ask the tiny child rummaging through my candy box, “Who are You?” Catepillar from Alice in Wonderland (because I will know all their names).

And when that tiny child eats my last favorite piece of candy, I will not shout or even whisper, “Off with their heads,”(Alice in Wonderland).

When I ask my 4 year old great grandaughter what her name is because I am so old and have so many new names to remember, when she just stares mutely, terrified of the little old lady smoking a pipe with vanilla tobacco, I will not impertintly answer,”At least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then” (Alice in Wonderland).

I will not wish strangers, “A Very Happy Unbirthday”(Alice in Wonderland), and when my son tells me the doctor has ordered me to never eat ice cream again, I will not answer, “Never say Never whatever you do”(An American Tail).

When they asked, “What’s for dinner Great Grannydoodle?” I will not answser, “Kidney of a horse, liver of a cat, filling up the sausages with this and that” (00ps–Les Miserable, but it is one of my most favorite lines).

If my sons dared to ask, just because they are in their 50s and think they are old enough, “Why did you do it, Mom” when I visit and eat all their ice cream at 2 a.m.  I will not say, “I’d like to make one thing quite clear: I never explain anything”(Mary Poppins).

When they fuss at me for having too much fun wrestling and pinning  down the grandchildren and great grandchildren or jumping on the trampoline, I will not say, “Why do you have to spoil it? We have fun! I taught you to fly and to fight”(Peter Pan).

And when one of the little ones comes in, fussing that someone is not sharing, no matter how tempting, I will not say, “All you need is trust and a little bit of pixie dust” and then sprinkle glitter or baby powder on her hair.  No, I will not do that.

Nor will I call all these children, big and small “Bilge Rats” for beating me at chess and checkers.

No, I think when I am Old and Smoke a Pipe with Vanilla Tobacco, I will want to hold their tiny hands, or hug them close if they will let me (you know how children are), and I will say, “Let me pray a blessing prayer with you.” Or maybe I will tell them stories about how Jesus loved their parents, and grandparents, cousins – and how God answered prayers and loved unconditionally, faithfully. And, maybe, I will explain about being a son or daughter of the King – and what that means in His Kingdom!

Yes, I think that is what I will do!

 

 

 

♥ To Know Love

.

The older I get, the more challenges I face raising my sons, I am continually amazed at the unconditional depth and breadth of the love God placed in me to not hold grudges, never give up, to hope in Faith, and to love when you do not feel like it, the desire to reach down to the tip-toes of your soul and pull love out because sometimes feeling love is hard. Finding it is a choice.

My little guys feel love right now. I used think love was just feeling love. I know better now. How awesome when the two collide. On the days when you just do nt feel the love does not mean it is not there. There is a God-designed nobleness in knowing love, choosing love, no condition love!

♥ Giving in the Blogahood

How many times do you do something wonderful, and your children, whom you think sparkle like the moon and stars, do not appreciate your Sparkleness?  Sometimes that attitude can dull your sparkle, though it is not supposed to.  I guess that is the humanness within.

Zeemaid from In the Mommy Trenches, sent me this wonderful award that definitely shined up my inner Sparkly.

The Rules for this one are:

* Each Superior Scribbler I name today must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
* Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
* Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
*Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visitThis Post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we’ll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
*Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

• Jill at Scary Mommy
• Justyna at Loves Lives in the Kitchen
• Delectable Dining
• My Brown Baby
• Cinnamon, Spice and Everything Nice
• Better in Bulk
• The V Files

Shirley at A Mom After God’s Own Heart sent me The Heartfelt Blog Award.  It is such a blessing to be able to share what is in our hearts whether it is just telling a story because it makes you laugh – and telling it just once at home just is not enough! OR maybe it is a crusade against injustice or frustration at valueless marketing in our stores that encroach on your values or just needing someone to say, “I know how you feel.”  To be the Heartfelt Award is about one person’s ideas resounding in some positive, encouraging way in another’s heart.

  The Rules for the Heartfelt  Blog Award are:

1) Put the logo on your blog/post.

2) Nominate up to 9 blogs which make you feel comfy or warm inside.

3) Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.

4) Let them know that they have been nominated by commenting on their blog.

5) Remember to link to the person from whom you received your award

So without further delay, here are my nine picks for the Heartfelt Award:

• My Front Porch
• My Cup to Yours
• Knit by God’s Hands
• Surviving Motherhood
• The Green Grass Grows All Around
• In the Mommy Trenches
• Abellevie: Live a Beautiful Life
• Adjusting to the World
• The Causey Clan

And then the amazing RedHead Riter bestowed upoon me the My Comments Rock Awards because it is not just about taking.  A good neighbor always gives, too.  When we were making our move, I bemoaned my “Peeps” – Yes, I said Peeps.  You do realize that if you use the slang of youth, they will stop using that slang.  I am on a quest – but I digress – I bemoaned the loss of my “Peeps” – My Kroger Peeps, my Wal-mart Peeps, my coffee shop peeps at Cafe Dolche and Poets, Sweet Sallies Yum Homemade cakes and cupcakes - people I have done business with for 18 years, seen me drag my boys through the check out aisle, brought in for a cup of JoeMy sons  where I’d ask how they were and mean it.  And they’d stop and talk about their lives, too.  My sons (all 5 are in agreement on this) and my husband laughed and said it wouldn’t be long before I made friends.  They swear I knew everyone, so it never phases them when I found out information and said, “I have my sources.” However, making friends is hard work.  It means risking rejection by extending friendliness.  We do that with our comments.  We can either give cruise-through comments or really sit down and have a dialogue.  Yes, I am interested in what you have to say.  I was never to appalled in my life when my journalism teacher in college was talking about cliches, saying, “People don’t really want to know how you are.  They just ask.”  This Award, to me, symbolizes what a blogahood needs to be healthy.

• Becca at Enamorada de Jesus
• Mom of 3 at When Did I Become My Mom
• YaYa at Ya Ya Stuff
• Mummy McTavish at Samster.com
• Sasha Broder at Lemonade Makin’ Mama
• Smart Pumkin Patch
• Leigh at The Domestic Flunky
• Mika at Not Really Homeschooling
• The Blonde Duck at A Duck in her Pond

♥ Blogging – Women Encouraging Women

We moved into a new neighborhood in August, 3 days after school started. We unloaded 18 years of life in another state, 4 boys more than when we left.  Tough was an understatement .  No neighbors showed up on our doorstep with cookies or a pie.  No matter how many boxes I dug into, not a single friend was found to be pulled out.

However, one thing that did not change in the move was the world of women’s blogging. Women stopped by to say hi, to encourage, and, gee, some even brought awards.  I could not eat them of course, but encouragement heartens the soul, does it not?

I want to thank some of these encouragers whose friendship, encouragement, and prayers made me feel less lonely as I began to re-build my family’s life in a new community.

Thanks Frugal Vicki from Frugal Mom Knows Best. She sent me the Heartfelt Award.  She had this to say about the award:

“This award is bestowed on to blogs that are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose six more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”

These are women who would be welcome at my Thanksgiving Table! These women last summer so encouraged this new mom on the block of the blogahood.  What a dinner we would have with such women of faith, determination, and conviction- and the most amazing thing – these women, even if they would disagree, would do it so nicely!

• The Redheaded Riter
• Lidj at Crown of Glory
• Mocha Mama at Life Be in It
• Deb at He Gave Me a Dream
• Sasha at Lemonade Makin’ Mama
• Mika at Not Really Homeschooling
• Teresa at Too many Heartbeats

Buckaroo Mama at Mamahood, Among Other Things didn’t bring any pie to my house, but she did award me the Honest Scrap Award.  All you moms out there know that we do not often get encouragement within the household (I’m talking our children,not our spouses)  for the honest of our values and ideas and implementing those ideas.  This award sweetened my day, along with my Orange Dolce tea! This award is for those women who stand up for what they believe in. Some show it with words, some with art!

Here are the rules that go along with the “Honest Scrap Award”:

Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.

• Sandra at Vintage Mama’s Rants
• MamaBird’s Blog
• Jennifer at Getting Down with Jesus
• Kelly at My Front Porch - she tells it like it is with her art!
• Karen at Surviving Motherhood
• Christine at Smiles and Trials
• Jenn at her Collage site-she also tells it like it is with her art!

Now I am supposed to tell you 10 honest things about myself

• My eyes are green.  My husband tried to persuade me they were blue when we first started going out.
• One of the happiest days of my life was when my 4th son’s eyes turned green.  I know what the world felt like when movies discovered color!
• My sons have proof that I am not perfect when I am behind the wheel of a car.
• My favorite color is blue
• My favorite ice cream is Marble Slab Deep Dark Chocolate with Lemon Custard.
• My favorite Birthday cake was made by my dad’s mom-Strawberry Cake.  I finally got the recipe for it a few years ago.
• I always wanted children with red hair, like my husband had when he was little. 
• Chocolate Truffles and Majeskas are my favorite Christmas Candy.  I’ll share the recipes with you in December.
• I hated pizza when I was little.  The fam had to buy me a hamburger while they went to Pizza Hut.  I certainly cannot get mad at my littlest son because he hates pizza now and wants a hamburger instead.
• I do not like scary movie!

Lastly, I want to thank Tracy at Light House Academy and The Home School Post.  She did not bring a cake to my blog door, but she did sparkle up my header, by getting rid of the fisherman and the odd boat, and brightening the scenery. She is a beautiful example of the generosity I have discovered in this community.

Today’s theme goes with my Simply Saturday theme of Generosity of Spirit -

“God puts things in our hearts, and whispers, “Pass it on.”  Of course, sometimes He has to shout, but we pass it on. I have been so blessed by so many wonderful women who have passed on a ”God” message that was spiritual water to my thirsting soul.

That message gets passed on, maybe through words, maybe through actions to my children, family, peers, acquaintences, maybe the cashier at a store.  It might not be a sermon, but maybe it’s a smile, a pat on the back, a hug, a word of encouragement,  just showing interest, making eye contact, a reaching into someone’s life that needs to be reached. The ripple effect of “Pass it on” - just think about it.”

Thank each of you for blessing me!

♥ Generosity of Spirit

God puts things in our hearts, and whispers, “Pass it on.”  Of course, sometimes He has to shout, but we pass it on. I have been so blessed by so many wonderful women who have passed on a ”God” message that was spiritual water to my thirsting soul.

That message gets passed on, maybe through words, maybe through actions to my children, family, peers, acquaintences, maybe the cashier at a store.  It might not be a sermon, but maybe it’s a smile, a pat on the back, a hug, a word of encouragement,  just showing interest, making eye contact, a reaching into someone’s life that needs to be reached. The ripple effect of “Pass it on” - just think about it.

The other day, Jenn from  jpreziosi sent me something from her collage site.  A few words that I had written in Capitalism or Socialism: Trick or Treat were passed on and Jenn did something beautiful with it, maybe passing it on further, maybe encouraging a generosity of spirit. She made it more than what it was. That is what “passing it on does” – make things more than what they were.

generosity of spirit by jpreziosi on Polyvore.com

♥ Halloween is . . . .

Halloween is digging down into the costume chest and pulling out something to dress up your imagination. It is a breast plate, shield and cape, with a worn grey sword that wilts more than jabs.  It is a cowboy vest, sherriff’s badge, and a frayed cowboy hat that has seen more than its fair share of fights.  It is a bumble bee, leopard or Peter Pan.  It is a dressed up witches hat or black cat ears, black smudged nose, and painted whiskers.

It is hot chili on a frosty night, sprinkled cheese, and grilled dogs.  Worms in the pumkin patch cupcakes sloshed down with hot apple cider or hot chocolate. It is fun games that make laughter, goose bumps, and adventure.

It is knocking on neighbor’s doors who brought your mama “Welcome to the neighborhod” cookies or the little red-headed girls house who has a crush on your brother.  It’s a door opening and friends spilling out of the dark dank, dreay night into the golden warmth of the Pumpkin House(which is what I called our old house because it was orange brick with black shutters). It is filling jack-o-lantern buckets with candy for your neighbor’s children who share school rooms, teachers with your children, who stop by for hot chocolate on fall afternoons.

It is laughing, teasing, savoring childhood – no presents, no pressure, no soporific lethargy. It is  fellowship, loving thy neighbor and generosity to strangers. Big and little pumpkins, Little and big. Halloween is a holiday from a too busy schedule, a moment to live joyously.

Then, after the pumpkin lights are blown out, the costumes tucked away, the candy stored out of reach, then it is time to thank God for the blessings of children, family, and fellowship, the joy of giving, laughter, and imagination, for a moment where the daily struggles dissipate in the steam of good food, respite from the world that figuratively buffetts each day.  Thank you for a moment to enjoy, refreshing myself in the gifts you have given me and the gifts given out.

♥ President’s Daughters Vaccinated

Because I wrote a scathing post about President Obama not vaccinating his daughters against the H1N1 virus while calling on American parents to vaccinate our children, it would be irresponsible to my journalist training to not let you know that ABC news reported today that the presidents’ daughters have been vaccinated.   It is one of the many duties of our president to lead by example when calling on the country in a time of difficulty. He is walking his talk, even though I still might disagree with the premise.

♥ Socialism or Capitalism: Trick or Treat

Trick or Treat

Trick or Treat

Give me Something Good to Eat

Every topic provides a teachable moment about God and, often, politics. Halloween is no different.

Last year, before the election, I was driving my boys somewhere-we are always going somewhere, and we were talking, discussing the difference between presidential candidates.

I explained how our capitalistic country was born out of the failure of socialism. William Bradford, author of Plymouth Plantation led a group of people to settle in America. Their settlement charter required them to form a socialist society. All results of work would be equally shared among their group. The first year was an utter failure. Healthy young men did not work. Why? Because they knew they would get their equal share of the pie whether they worked or not, as the charter stated. Suffering resulted, and, sadly, the ones who worked hard to provide for those who did not work suffered equally. The colony revised their charter the second year into a capitalistic charter: what you made you kept to sell, barter, trade. The colony flourished. Those lazy young men worked when there was profit/rewards to be had.

“Capitalism allows you to keep what you earn and choose where to spend it; socialism “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need”(Marx), meaning that it doesn’t matter how much you work or how good you are, the government will take away your earnings to give to fill other peoples’ needs.”

My sons looked at me blankly. Hmmmmm, apparently, I needed to put this into the U-14 venacular.” Passing houses with pumpkins filling door ways, black cat flags, and other ghoulish festivities, I pulled an idea out of the figurative candy basket of my brain.

I assessed my boys through the rear-view mirror.

“What’s your favorite part about Halloween,” I asked.

“Candy,” chimed the unhesitatant chorus.

“What if the Jones wouldn’t allow their children to go Trick or Treating because they didn’t believe in it? The Thompsons were just too lazy? The Smith’s too sick? What would you do when you got home and Dad said you had to give 2/3 of your candy to those families? How would you feel?”

“Not going to happen!” my then 8th grader answered bluntly.

The two younger ones looked appalled, even disgusted.

I countered my 8th grader, “But he is your Dad, you have to do what he says. Just like the president is the president-you have to do what he says, too. Socialism is like your dad telling you you must share, whether you want to or not. Socialism is when the leader of your country decides how many other people you have to give your hard-earned halloween candy to.”

“Some people don’t believe in trick or treating, some just don’t want to, some people maybe just can’t for real reasons. Despite the reason why others do not have Halloween candy, you cannot call it giving when the government takes it away and chooses who to give your stuff to.”

My 4th grader said, “Well, if they were sick, I’d share.”

“In a Capitalist society, you go out, work hard, and determine what to do with your earnings. The moral choice is yours to make with giving. That is what makes it moral,” I answered. “There’s nobleness and goodness in giving when you make the choice to give-that is capitalism, and that’s why we’re known as the most giving country in the world. There is no moral giving without choice. There is no generosity of spirit without choice.”

Halloween is a sweet-tooth example of the capitalist system thriving in our country. I bet your children share without being told to, or barter the results of their hard work.

Socialism or Capitalism–what’s the real trick or treat?

♥ President’s Daughters NOT Vaccinated against H1N1

Our government has created an up-roar about the need for H1N1 vaccination.  New mothers are scared to death, school systems are scrambling to initiate system-wide immunizations, and the president has declared a national emergency. New York City tried to implement mandatory immunizations.

However, many medical professionals do not want it.  Many parents have not been persuaded. Apparently, even though the president is persuaded YOU need it, he is not persuaded his daughters need it.

♥ A Wayward Cloud Tumbled

Misty mornings

                            foggy sunrise

                                                    I simply say

                                         A Big Cloud

                                                              come

                                                                             to fall

into

a Kentucky Hollow

at sunrise today

 

♥ Scary Mommy? Boo!

Jill over at Scary Mommy http://www.scarymommy.com has issued a challenge I just cannot resist: Are you a Scary Mommy? Not just “Am I a Scary Mommy” but she’s made it into a competition, which is a very Scary Mommy kind of thing!  Like an Espresso Truffle, or a when my little guy purrs like “Puss-in-Boots” from Shrek, or a bubble bath, I just couldn’t resist, so here’s my Scary Mommy Post!

I used to think moms with just sons were pretty scary, until I became one of those moms. 

When you’re a mom with 5 sons, no matter how big, those boys gotta think you can still take them down-no matter who’s around. 

You gotta be able to call their bluff. 

One day, one of my sons walked through the kitchen on his way to his room buck naked after showering in my shower.  At the same time, the oldest one strolled into the kitchen in his boxers.  I’d had it. I was tired of all this male non-challent nakedness. There was a girl in the house after-all, even if she was just “Mom.”

I started un-buttoning my pants.  I said, “Well, if you can do it, I can, too.”  They high-tailed it out of the kitchen. I didn’t see a naked butt for about 6 months. I must have been pretty Scary-Mommy! (BTW, I only started unbuttoning my pants.  That’s all it took)

It gets pretty scary in the house when I do my “Mad Mad Madam Mim” immitation from The Sword and The Stone or the Lady in the Portrait from Harry Potter when she can just break a glass “Just with My Voice.” The threat to do those immitations in front of their friends pretty much makes them toe the line.

Then, I get pretty SCARY MOMMY when I create visual lectures on relationships and stuff, like “You’re a Cake” and “Hubba Bubba” and “Are you Man Enough?”  And then I share them over S’Mores and Pizza when they bring  BFFS over or I get a chance to hang around their “girl” friends at soccer games or church. It’s so scary, they almost like it.

A truly SCARY MOMMY makes sure Santa stuffs stockings for the older sons with things like Payne’s Common Sense, Tocqueville’s Democracy in America or C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity. However, for every Scary Mommy high moment, there is an equal Scary Mommy low moment, like when I reviewed every Def Leppard song with my son who disagreed that every Def Leppard song is about sex.  We were trying to eliminate the sin-with-a-good-beat music choices.  All Scary Mommy had to do was raise an eyebrow.  My son conceded victory, but Scary Mommy was rather red-faced. Def Leppart no longer blared at the house.

I am probably SCARY MOMMY when I lose my temper, my keys, and when I drive (not quite all at the same time).

SCARY MOMMY loves enough to risk pride, respect, and affection in order to be the mom my son’s need me to be. SCARY MOMMY can be meaner, but SCARY MOMMY gives Volcano kisses that slobber all over their cheeks, bear hugs that can lift the biggest one of them all off the ground, and say, “I’m sorry. I really missed it” when I handle mommy-ness wrong.

SCARY MOMMY has a pretty scary sense of humor.  When one son, whom we call “Bear” got in the car after soccer practice all cold and shivering, I asked him,” What’s the saddest sight in the whole wide world?”

“I don’t know. Your cooking?” he answered. I almost forgot my joke.

“A hairless bear shivering with cold,” I answered.  Now readers, you need to visualize that before you can truly appreciate the SCARY MOMMY humor.

The boys would really think I was SCARY MOMMY if they knew what I was like without God in my life giving me the strength, the courage, the inspiration, the never-give-up-ness to believe in their innate goodness when it’s on sabitacal, to believe they are walking in God’s plan for their lives when it seems like every plan has been thrown away, to believe they have generous hearts when they are tight-fisted with their brothers, and to love passionately and unconditionally even when they don’t want to love me back.  SCARY MOMMY drops to her knees in prayer when life is scarier than she is!

SCARY MOMMY? Bring it on! Sometimes I just plain scare myself!

♥ Porn in the Family-Friendly Check-out Aisle?!

Wal-Mart and Kroger cannot seem to keep verbal porn covered up on their check-out aisles.  Glamour and Cosmopolitan magazine continually run sexually explicit titles on their covers with sexually explicit material inside.  With everything from what to do with the male anatomy to sex positions (pictures available inside magazine), these magazine covers leave little to the imagination.

I am trying to raise  4 sons (one is already out of the next) to be Godly young men who see more than sex in a young woman. I do not want a grocery store undermining that.  I do not want to have to explain to my 10 year old concepts that are not appropriate.  Aren’t there “R” rated laws about what a minor can and cannot see?

We just moved to a new town.  Our old hometown struggled to keep these magazines under a sleeve in the check-out aisles.  However, after a few weeks, they would be uncovered again, prominently displayed in the aisle where anyone under 18 years of age could read.  Everytime I asked, Wal-Mart would respond that they couldn’t control their vendors.  They had a contract.

Now, if I let someone rent space I owned to make money, I would think that I could control what they did with that rental space.  Besides, what would Sam Walton, creator of the FAMILY FRIENDLY Wal-Mart chain say about those pornographic titles on display where families, with children in tow, paid their bills?  After all, what do you think kids, teens, and parents are doing while they’re waiting in those long lines?

One Wal-Mart manager explained that they have considered creating family-value aisles. A store that promotes family values on the outside, but limits those values to a few aisles on the inside? How disappointing! Promoting verbal porn to make a few extra bucks while thumbing your nose at the majority of your customers!

I think it is akin to spitting on those families and their values while taking their money.

When I complained at one smaller store, the manager said, “Well, now, your sons are going to hear about it in the boys’ bathroom.  How can you stop that?”

Well, I took my 5 growing sons + 2 adult household grocery bill to another store.

I understand I have choices.  I have choices about which bookstore, coffee shop, or clothing store I support.  If I don’t like a display or a political position, I can chose another venue-I do not have to spend my money at their check out aisle because these are not necessities.

However, food is a necessity.  In order for me to purchase that necessity, I must go through their check-out aisles.  I do not have a choice. 

It used to be that the customer provided the financial support to businesses.  Most owners knew their customers, knew their values, and worked hard to respect the people that were patrons to their businesses.  I think customers still do provide the financial support to the investors of Wal-Mart and Kroger. I certainly wish they would cater to the salt–of-the-earth family values that keep them in business. 

Today, I went into Wal-Mart.  Cosmopolitan’s verbal porn was displayed at the check-out aisle.  I went to turn it around.  On the back was a picture of a goup topless men and women. I couldn’t turn it either way to make this asile family-friendly.  Cosmo had trumped me. The manager had never heard of sleaves.  “Sleaves? For Cosmo?” she querried.  I showed her the picture on the back and then turned for her to read the verbal porn on the front.  “Oh, I’ll speak to the managers about that.”

Really? I don’t think so.

I was thinking that if Disney would change The Pirates of The Carribean ride over 4 complaints, 4 measly complaints, that maybe, just maybe Wal-Mart, Kroger, and whatever grocery store you keep in business might sit up and listen if bloggers called to complain.

Join me in a crusade to put some family values back in the check-out aisle: create Porn-free aisles!

Wal-mart: 1-800-Wal-Mart

Kroger: 1-866-221-414

Please add your store in the comment area and I will put it up here.

♥ Curling up with Contentment

.

All week long, I have been wanting to share a funny story, an incident to laugh about. After the serious posts of the last few weeks, I thought, “I need to lighten this up.”  However, as much as I try, God has not let a funny story walk through my door, be pulled up from the memories stacked within, or just dog-gone hoped for. 

I’m not depressed or sad, no, not even mad.  Of course, as a mom, that could pop up at any moment, just like that funny moment that I’ve been waiting for.  My little guy did decide that he’d better not dress up dad in a racoon costume and put him outside because he was snoring too loud inside.  The little guy decided that the bears might eat his dad, and he didn’t want that to happen. 

Content is what I feel.  Rare contentment.  Like how the warm cup feels on your cold hands at a soccer game in 52 degrees and the steam warms your nose. 

The tallest one of them all came off the soccer field plastered in mud.  He had a good night.  He needed a good night and, despite the mud and drizzle, he was everything he and I know he is. His jersey is still soaking.

The joyful one, he’s been struggling with the move, missing the familiar.  He had some friends over yesterday. His roots into the community grew a little more.  My mother-spirit sighed relief.

The two little guys went to the grandparents today to play with their cousins.  Something like that hasn’t been an option for 18 years.  We were too far away.  My sweeter-than-ice-cream mother-in-law made curtains for the boys’ rooms today.  How blessed am I!

I have a job I love that allows me to work from home.  No more grading college student essays.  No more college students who don’t want to be there, don’t want to do the work, don’t want to get an insufficient grade for doing nothing.  I do miss the students who love to learn, but I so love my new job. 

I am in a place God brought me.  I didn’t want to come.  I miss where I’ve been.  Yet, I am content, quietly content, a sitting-with-a-cup-of-coffee-and-my-world-is-at-peace-contentment.

“He who dwells in the shelter of The Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalm 91)

As most of you mothers know, that contentment rarely lasts as long as that cup of coffee, but I will feel that moment, that sustaining moment through the toe-to-toe battles, the moments where you cannot emotionally flinch, the disappointment, the brotherly bickering, the no-matter-how-hard-I-try-I-cannot-make-everyone-happy times,and my constantly disappearing Dr. Pepper bottle. 

For now, I’m going to curl up in a quilt of contentment, breath it in, savor it, and rest in it.

Thank you, God, for the funny moments,

the heart moments, the proud moments,

thank you for carrying me through the hard moments

 that make

all the other moments

so much

sweeter

and thank you, God,

for this contented time

of spiritual, emotional, and physical

refreshing

♥ Prayer in School

The ACLU and timid school administrators keep trying to squash prayer in school.

My oldest son came home from second grade afraid that his teacher would know that he was “praying in his head” and he would be punished because prayer was not allowed in school.  A mother-son discussion ensued.  Years later, he told me about a pre-class discussion among his peers (respected football players, basketball players, and, of course, soccer players).  Before class started, they debated the Baptism of the Holy Spirit and Speaking in Tongues. Yes, I had a mom-moment, seeing a seed bloom. A lot of these young men became Young Life Leaders in college, ministering to high school students.  Wow!  Seed harvested?

Last year, my little guy came home concerned about one of his BFFs.  The class bully was picking on him.  His friend had missed school because of the sitution.  Sometimes his friend cried.  My little guy came home and said, “I prayed for Joshua today.”  He had prayed for someone he cared about who had a need! Another mom moment. A seed planted was sprouting.

A few days ago, my little guy came home from school.  We had our daily discussion about lunch, school, and what the little boy who causes trouble did that day.

“When I was in the bathroom, I prayed for him,” he answered. He had prayed for someone that had a need, not because he was a BFF. Rather, this was someone who made the day tougher sometimes.  Another mom moment! That sprouting seed grew another inch.

My little guy says he wants to grow up to be like The Biggest Brother of Them All. I would say he is on his way.

As long as parents pray with their children at home, in the van, on the playground, the soccer field, or any place for any need, there will be prayer in school. Don’t just pray, though.  Discuss who needs prayer besides ourselves and our immediate family members.  On the way to school, one son leads The Lords Prayer, another leads the Psalm 23. Then I pray, “Dear Lord, I pray that today we let someone know about the love of Jesus either through our words or actions.”

Prayer in school?  It  is going on in student’s heads, at the flag pole, during the moment of silence when students bravely lead The Lord’s Prayer, and, apparently, in the bathrooms. Our children can make a difference one prayer at a time.

The House that Hope Built

What do you see, when you look at this house?

Do you see

this?

Sometimes, I see Loss

At othertimes, Unsustainable Change,

Isolation

Left-behindness

Not what I asked for

Maybe Life without God

or 

do you see

this?

 Hope of Home Sweet Home

memories

that swirled

within those walls

Laughter wafting out the windows

 opportunity for Shelter

to put down roots

to build a life

out of

abandonment

brokendownness

Opportunity

Restoration

Security

Hope

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord,

“plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

Each picture, the same house, one symbolizing hopelessness and confusion, the other hope. 

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired oof living life grumpy and grey just because things don’t seem to be going my way. I want the joy, the brightness, the rainbow of hope. I don’t just want to believe.  I need to walk belief, smile belief, rejoice in belief, to, as I read today, live in gratitude  for all blessings great and small. I need to live in gratitude for the promises not yet received.

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1)

Which house are you living?

 

 

MONDAY: Unofficial Day of Prayer to Stop Violence in our Schools

 I am forgoing Simply Saturday this week to promote Monday as a day of Prayer to Stop Violence in our Schools. A few years ago, when my one son was threatened at school, I dealt with this issue.  A fellow student showed him a knife and said he was going to stab him in the back and kill him with it the next week.

This student missed school often, disappeared for weeks at a time, and eventually, after an altercation,was put in a foster home.  Every time this student came back into the classroom, my son’s grades went down.  The administration recommended that he have a witness with him at all times, at the bathroom, on the way to soccer practice, in the hallways.    I know what you’re thinking, but let’s follow my point for the moment.

One Spring afternoon, I sat on my porch, probably grading papers, and thinking about this issue.  This boy thought my son had it all. He was 6 ft. tall in the 7th grade.  He was popular, but he didn’t realize it.  Like any child he had his own issues.  This boy didn’t realize that everyday when my son came home, we scooped his emotional self up and helped put him back together. 

I realized that this young man’s spirit cried out for what my son had, parents who cared enough to help him put himself together, loved him through the good, the bad, and the ugly to help him become the man God created him to be.

By 7th grade, you cannot schedule a play date.  If you have smaller children, you cannot risk a dangerous person coming into their environment.  I sat there, the mother in me, grieving for this young man who needed a mom who would fight for him.

This young man needed Jesus Christ in his life.  Yet, how do you say to a boy who doesn’t know the love of a Father, God, come meet my Father?  How do you encourage someone to become a Christian, give their life to The Father, when maybe their father beats them or abandoned them?  The book, To Tell the Truth, by Will Metzger discusses this same issue.  So many youth today are not raised hearing the language of God, instrucuted in the Godly principles of God, introduced to the nature of this awesomely loving God.  We have to start from scratch.  From a very first introduction, one stranger to another.

As I sat there, on my porch, I realized this boy, almost a man, did not have a mama who prayed for him. Probably few people ever did.  I started praying for this young man. I say young man because according to Judeo-Christian values, 13 is the age of accountability, where one becomes responsible for the condition of their souls.  I think that is pretty manly.

Yesterday, when a school brawl resulted in a student being critically stabbed, I realized that even though we had moved to another state, back to my husband’s hometown, that violence in school is not just an isolated incident, but crosses district lines, county lines, and state lines.

To end or greatly reduce violence in our schools, we need to reach hurting, hopeless, and spiritually hungry students  to give them a hope that God in a covenant relationship provides abundantly. Hope stiffles the urge to lash out.  Hope sees positive solutions. Hope may results in the aggressive defensive use of force, but it is never the offensive use of force. Hope brings light to dark places.

I pray that eyes will be opened, ears will hear

and hearts will be changed

that God will send laborers

into the hallways, the lunchrooms, the classrooms

who either by word or example

plant the seed of hope

through the Love of Jesus Christ

who is our hope

Our youth need to find the one true hope in a loving God who knows their needs, knows their hurts and fears, knows their dreams.  They need to be introduced to the God who promises the following to His children:  “If you follow my decrees and are careful to obey my commands,

• I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crop and the trees of the field their fruit. 
• Your threshing will continue until grape harvest and the grape harvest will continue until planting,
• and you will eat all the food you want and live in safety in your land.
•  I will grant peace in the land,
• and you will lie down and no one will make you afraid.
•  I will remove savage beasts from the land,
• and the sword will not pass through your country. 
• Your will pursue your enemies, and they will fall by the sword before you.
•  Five of you will chase a hundred, and a hundred of you will chase ten thousand, and your enemies will fall by the sword before you.
•  I will look on you with favor and make you fruitful and increase your numbers,
•  and I will keep my covenant with you.
•  You will still be eating last year’s harvest when you have to move it out to make room for the new.
•  I will put my dwelling place among you, and I will not abhor you.
•  I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people”(Leviticus 26:1-12).

Please join me Monday in prayer to stop violience in our schools by praying that the seeds of hope are planted in their lives.

 

Student Stabbed

I am resposting “Shouldn’t Children be Encouraged to Defend Themselves” today. Sadly, a high school student at my sons’ high school was stabbed during an in-school brawl with a kitchen knife. He was air-lifted in critical condition. Word of mouth discusses one student taunting, both fighting, one evening the odds. The school went into lock-down mode. I firmly believe that a passive approach to bullying and mis-behavior breeds out-of-control violence. I cannot express the saddness in my heart for these two young men and their families. I cannot express the feeling of frustration that makes me feel like sending my sons to school is like playing Russian Roulette with their lives. I am going to make Monday in my home an unofficial Day of Prayer Against Violence in Our Schools. Won’t you join me?

Shouldn’t Children be Encouraged to Defend Themselves

“The world is governed by the aggressive use of force,” was played out last week with the death of an honor student in Chicago by violent gang members. Aggressive force ruled. There are two types of aggressive force: Aggressive forced used offensively, and Aggressive force used defensively.

In the public school system, Aggressive Force Used Offensively wins. If Johnney, uses aggressive force offensively by kicking, punching, or pulling a knife, and Sam, uses aggressive force defensively to stop the kicking, punching, or pulling a kinife. Both are punished. Equally. Sam gets suspended for defending himself. Johnney gets suspended, too.

The young man-yes, young man, not a child, who was killed would have been suspended for defending himself if that had happened on school grounds.

The system emasculates rule-abiding students, while empowering rule-breaking students

My 3rd grader is being kicked, shoved, and verbally assaulted consistently. The teacher admitted using everthing in his behavior-solution bag, “I don’t know what else to do.” My son’s 3rd grade world is governed by the aggressive use of force-except the governing force is a fellow 3rd grader.

My husband told him that if the child hits him, to hit back twice as hard. However, if that happens, my son risks earning the same rap sheet as the instigator.

One of my sons had a similar, but more threatening experience in 7th grade. As the principal explained to me, it all stareted when the class bully kept throwing tootsie rolls at a girl and hitting her in the eye. My son told him to stop. It was Halloween. After Thanksgiving, this same student pulled a knife on my son and threatened to use that same knife to stab him in the back and kill him the next week.

My son’s middle school world was governed by the aggressive use of force.

I asked the principal, “Is this a kid who is just having a tough day, or is this a kid with a history of issues?”

She couldn’t tell me. She also could not do anything about the student with the knife: even though other students had seen the knife, it didn’t count because a teacher didn’t see the knife.

My son was told to always have a witness with him, whether he went to the bathroom, soccer practice, or changed class.

I was assured that my son had just as fine of privacy rights as the student who pulled the knife. I countered that my son didn’t have anything to hide, so I didn’t need those privacy rights.

This student was in and out of school for the rest of the year. Each time he came back, the threats would increase. We met with the principal again. We told her that we gave our son permission to take 2 hits (understand that in the 7th grade, he was already 6 ft. 2 inches tall with the strength to seriously injure this little guy). If someone didn’t pull the young man off of him, then he had our permission to knock him to the next county. Even though, after taking 2 hits, and finally defending himself would result in a suspension.

“The world is governed by the aggressive use of force.”

Students who are coached and threated not to defend themselves are being subjugated by those using the aggressive use of force.

The public school system is training children and young adults to not fight back, while letting those who use the aggressive use of force freedom to do so. Why? They have simply exhausted their bag of solutions.

They are creating a country of citizens who do not know how to defend themselves, to stand up and face an enemy force, to possibly save their life. Iwant the school sytems to stop tying my son’s hands behind their backs and forcing them to take the aggression.

I want the school system to teach that right is might.

Sometimes the aggressive use of force, when used defensively, stops the bullies, bad guys, and murderers from continuing their reign of terror. Self-defense is an American right, for the adults and the children, too.

Sometimes a strong defense is the solution to the aggressive use of force. Sometimes the defensive aggressive use of force can bring peace to the world. . . and even the 3rd grade.

♥ Shouldn’t Children be Encouraged to Defend Themselves?

“The world is governed by the aggressive use of force,” was played out last week with the death of an honor student in Chicago by violent gang members. Aggressive force ruled. There are two types of aggressive force: Aggressive forced used offensively, and Aggressive force used defensively.

In the public school system, Aggressive Force Used Offensively wins. If Johnney, uses aggressive force offensively by kicking, punching, or pulling a knife, and Sam, uses aggressive force defensively to stop the kicking, punching, or pulling a kinife.  Both are punished.  Equally.  Sam gets suspended for defending himself.  Johnney gets suspended, too. 

The young man-yes, young man, not a child, who was killed would have been suspended for defending himself if that had happened on school grounds.

The system emasculates rule-abiding students, while empowering rule-breaking students

My 3rd grader is being kicked, shoved, and verbally assaulted consistently. The teacher admitted using everthing in his behavior-solution bag, “I don’t know what else to do.” My son’s 3rd grade world is governed by the aggressive use of force-except the governing force is a fellow 3rd grader.

My husband told him that if the child hits him, to hit back twice as hard.  However, if that happens, my son risks earning the same rap sheet as the instigator.

One of my sons had a similar, but more threatening experience in 7th grade.  As the principal explained to me, it all stareted when the class bully kept throwing tootsie rolls at a girl and hitting her in the eye.  My son told him to stop.  It was Halloween.  After Thanksgiving, this same student pulled a knife on my son and threatened to use that same knife to stab him in the back and kill him the next week.

My son’s middle school world was governed by the aggressive use of force.

I asked the principal, “Is this a kid who is just having a tough day, or is this a kid with a history of issues?”

She couldn’t tell me. She also could not do anything about the student with the knife:  even though other students had seen the knife, it didn’t count because a teacher didn’t see the knife.

My son was told to always have a witness with him, whether he went to the bathroom, soccer practice, or changed class.

I was assured that my son had just as fine of privacy rights as the student who pulled the knife.  I countered that my son didn’t have anything to hide, so I didn’t need those privacy rights.

This student was in and out of school for the rest of the year.  Each time he came back, the threats would increase.  We met with the principal again.  We told her that we gave our son permission to take 2 hits (understand that in the 7th grade, he was already 6 ft. 2 inches tall with the strength to seriously injure this little guy).  If someone didn’t pull the young man off of him, then he had our permission to knock him to the next county.  Even though, after taking 2 hits, and finally defending himself would result in a suspension.

“The world is governed by the aggressive use of force.”

Students who are coached and threated not to defend themselves are being subjugated by those using the aggressive use of force.

The public school system is training children and young adults to not fight back, while letting those who use the aggressive use of force freedom to do so. Why?  They have simply exhausted their bag of solutions.

They are creating a country of citizens who do not know how to defend themselves, to stand up and face an enemy force, to possibly save their life. Iwant the school sytems to stop tying my son’s hands behind their backs and forcing them to take the aggression.

I want the school system to teach that right is might.

Sometimes the aggressive use of force, when used defensively, stops the bullies, bad guys, and murderers from continuing their reign of terror.  Self-defense is an American right, for the adults and the children, too.

Sometimes a strong defense is the solution to the aggressive use of force.  Sometimes the defensive aggressive use of force can bring peace to the world. . . and even the 3rd grade.

♥ Bittersweet October! Delicious Autumn!

I love Fall.  The smell of crisp, musty leafy air.  The crunch and skittering leaf sounds.  Blustery wind that sasses. It is the only time of year that I orange is my favoarite color.  Otherwise, I abhor it.  It is the only time of year a black cat gives me pause.

Walking up the main street of my hometown every day to visit my aunt, my feet kicking through red, orange, and brown leaves that crackled.  Robin’s egg blue skies and clouds, so white, so full as though they were heavy with the winter snow to come–the sky seemed like the roof of an old house, too low and me too big, like I could almost touch the ceiling–that’s autumn. Autumn is full of memores that wrap around you like a old, warm quilt made from blue cotton memories.

When autumn comes, I pull out my very favorite autumn children’s book, ”When will the Snow Trees Grow?” by Ben Shecter. The little guys and I wrap up in our blankets, snuggle up with some hot chocolate for them and warm apple cider for me.  Because the “lemonade isn’t as sweet.”  The blankets feel just right.  And the wind rustles around the house trying to find a way inside. Shector poignantly shows how tastes and needs evolve with the seasons.

 Another favorite book pulled out, for the older, more adventuruous among us is The Oxford English Edition of Classic Ghost Stories.  The stories collected in these pages are to horror movies what Belgian truffles are to cheap chocolate. No gimmicks, just stories passed own through folklore, sprung out of supersitition, imagination, and a dark night.  It is one of my husband’s favorite books to read, too  I heartily enjoy it, but don’t like reading it if he is out of town–BOO!

Of course, since lemonade doesn’t taste as sweet, it’s time to pull out the crock pot and stir up some mulled apple cider, topped with homemade whipped cream and Starbucks Caramel Sauce. My favorite hot chocolate recipe is the way my aunt used to make it when I’d spend the night.  Milk warmed with Hershey’s Unsweetened Cocoa and made just like it says on the back of the box:

INGREDIENTS (Nutrition)

• 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 3/4 cup white sugar
• 1 pinch salt
• 1/3 cup boiling water
• 3 1/2 cups milk
• 3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup half-and-half cream
• Homemade whipping cream

DIRECTIONS

1. Combine the cocoa, sugar and pinch of salt in a saucepan. Blend in the boiling water. Bring this mixture to an easy boil while you stir. Simmer and stir for about 2 minutes. Watch that it doesn’t scorch. Stir in 3 1/2 cups of milk and heat until very hot, but do not boil! Remove from heat and add vanilla. Divide between 4 mugs. Add the cream to the mugs of cocoa to cool it to drinking temperature. Top with real homemade whipping cream. 

 

One of my favorite parts about autumn will be different this year.  For years, the boys and the neighborhood kids would stop by in the midst of their afternoon play, no matter how cold the weather.  I would pull out my S’More indoor grill. The gaggle would pull up the stools to the counter, and S’More Snacks for everyone-a regular autumn event! The neighborhood kids might be in another state, but the S’More Maker is with me! 

The weather is cooling, the trees green, but have a washed out look about them.  The sky feels like it is starting to press downward.  The quilts feel snugglier.  I’m getting thirsty for some yummy cider.  The urge to curl up with a book that will make my hair stand on end, no matter how many times I read the stories, beckons, and, for some reason, the color orange is my very favorite color right now, a fiery, pumkiny orange. My scardy cat seems a little braver, her coat a little darker for some reason.

I so love the Fall!