gluten free cupcake joys teach contentment

There are things I miss since I began eating gluten free. Rolls at Easter. Doughnuts. Fried Chicken {yep, I'm admitting that one}. And, yes, the simple cupcake. Thankfully, our little grocery store started to carry in their bakery {in the frozen/refrigerated area} some gluten free delights that come from a wonderful bakery in Minneapolis.

Okay. Here's the deal. They're $4.99 for a box of four. But, every once in a while, it's worth it to splurge just a little. It's only $1.25 a cupcake, right?

Very often there's a little boy, a little boy who cannot eat gluten and who never ever complains about not eating gluten, who also cannot seem to wait until he can grab one of those delightful cupcakes. Here he is -- waiting for that chocolate cupcake with the excellent frosting and tasty gluten free cake. I'll hear him, please, mamma, please? Cupcake? And, then, of course, I must stop taking pictures and hand that sweet one a chocolate cupcake to devour. Crumbs, cake, frosting -- everywhere.

Then I'll grab one for myself. Unless my entire family decides they all need to have a gluten free delicious cupcake. Then I've got the challenge of how to fairly divide four cupcakes among nine people. ;)

And the lesson on contentment brought about by gluten free cupcake joys? I guess I've learned that instead of lamenting all Samuel cannot eat in life instead to embrace all that he can eat. And that lesson? Applies to almost everything. So often I'll get stuck in all I don't have and forget to see all that I do have. Right in front of me. Little cupcakes? They remind me to seek the good and to be content. Simple gifts, simple joys.

I'd show you one more picture, but they ate them all up, crumbs and everything before the camera could be pulled out again. And thank you, yesterday, for all the birthday wishes. Those cupcakes? They were a pre-birthday treat. And the bakery? The French Meadow Bakery. They've saved me from my cupcake crave and reminded me to be content.

if only ladders

If only I can just do this.
Or write this.
Or homeschool like this.
If only my kids would just be involved in this.
Or I cooked like this.
Or my house looked like this.
If only I could have a schedule like this
Or my blog would be like this.
Or my husband like this.
If only I could be like that.

There is no ladder.

There is no ultimate mom.
There is no ultimate wife.
There is no ultimate homeschooler.
There is no ultimate friend.
There is no ultimate housekeeper.
There is no ultimate cook.
There is no ultimate writer.

There is no ladder.

Each of us has our own paths, our own lives, and our own stories. We are each blessed with striving to be the best of us that we can be. While I love all the information that is at our fingertips it is also all too easy to start comparing, to start climbing this invisible ladder of perceived success. The phrase if only can begin to creep into the everyday and with each if only some of our joy in who we are begins to fade.

There is no ladder.

This world loves to define, to rank, to calculate places and spots. Just in the online world we're bombarded with things like Klout, and Google Page Rank, and Alexa scores and more. But, do they really have any place in defining worth? I'd argue no. I see these ladders placed everywhere -- homeschooling, and baking, and parenting and more. And then us mothers worn from trying to climb ladders, comparing to others, thinking if only we could just do this one more thing then I'd be...

I'd be what?

Happy? Content? Prideful? More Godly?

The more I live my life with an earthly if only ladder in front of me the more discontent my heart becomes. I start to compare myself to others and instead of seeing the good I begin to look at my own life and see where I perceive I fail. I'll start to feed lies to myself about how we're not homeschooling the right way or not cooking the healthiest  food or spending enough family time or my blog isn't this way or my house not decorated enough or I'm not crafty enough. And all that comparing? Makes me miserable. Makes me miss the joy in others and the gifts that the Lord blessed them with because I'm so focused on myself.

So I'm throwing out the ladder.

I want to live inspired by others.
I want to live encouraged by others.
I want to live grateful for my life.
I want to live thankful.
I want to live getting my worth from the Lord.

So that earthly ladder, that if only ladder, I'm not keeping it. There's a freedom in letting it go. In reading others words and being excited about who they are and the gifts and blessings the Lord bestowed on them. Letting go of the ladder means seeing your life, your family, your homeschool, your baking, your cleaning, your you no longer through the lens of the world -- with an unending ladder of perceived success -- but through the lens that you are a gift, a child, uniquely made by the Lord.

And then you, and I, can begin to live content, grateful, and thankful. We can strive to improve -- but for the right reasons -- and grow and learn and encourage others. Learning and trying new things becomes more about embracing who we are and less about becoming someone we're not. That's freedom.

There really is no ladder.
Just us. 
Daughters of the Lord.

contentment. revisited.

On January 1, 2011

I wrote a post 

describing my word for the year.

Contentment.

I wrote

How can I expect it {life} to not have

the ups and downs?

Ups and downs

don't define

joy.

Or contentment.

"...for I have learned to be

content

in whatever

the circumstances."

Philippians 4:11b

Who would have known.

Really known what this year would bring.

Or that 17 days later I would be

at Children's Hospital with Samuel.

And yet, even with all the dips on the rollercoaster

I find myself content.

Content and joyful.

Content to 

change diapers

cook dinner

clean my home

drive to ballet

sit at soccer

read those books

and teach algebra

go to the doctor

rock Samuel to sleep

wash the laundry

and make the bed

rake the leaves

dust the pictures

take the garbage out

play with legos

tie some shoes

and get up early

buy some groceries

sweep the garage

pay the bills

pick up toys

and mop the floor

find missing shoes

sew buttons on

scrub the sink

fold the towels

and just keep going.

These are all blessings

that so easily could be defined 

as chores.

My prayer lately has been that 

the Lord opens my eyes to the

goodness

 in the everyday minutes of life.

In the laughter

and joy

and seriousness

and ups and downs

and family

and just living life.

Contentment.

It's there.

******

to read my post written on 

January 1, 2011

click here

and the surgeon says....

(tell me some of you watched Family Feud)

...wait.

Yep. Wait. Four little letters making a word that drives me batty. I am not a wait kind of gal. I'm a let's fix it so I can move on with life kind of gal.

Actually, the surgeon wants me to do 3 weeks of intense physical therapy to see if we can strengthen that pesky pesky shoulder of mine. My mri was fairly inconclusive thanks to almost 20 year old anchors placed in my shoulder from my previous surgeries. So, I have to work with a physical therapist in order to judge strength and stability. Starting today.

That means if I have surgery it will be in the beginning of September. When school starts.

I had intended to start this school year running. Flying. On schedule. You know, organized. Ready to go. Ahead of the curve. Eager. Not possibly recovering from major shoulder surgery.

Let it go.

That's what I'm telling myself. Learning doesn't have to start in early September. We can start later. Let it go. Let it go. Let it go. But, I don't want to. I want to cling so tightly to this idea of having the perfect 2011-2012 school year that takes place with a magnificent launch in September. Oh, that was my wish.

I'm starting to realize that success and joy cannot be based on a silly September start date.

Let it go.

We cling to stuff, don't we? It's ironic the things that get me worked up -- schedules, and organization, and the perfect plans. When they don't seem to go the way I had envisioned it takes me a bit to regroup -- to let it go. But, you know, if I sat here lamenting about my not so ideal September it would trickle down to my family. They'd pick up on the vibe, the mood that I'm in. I don't want frustration to run deep -- that's not me.

So I tell them that ninja mom is going to go work that shoulder out. And who knows -- maybe I won't need surgery and can just get by doing physical therapy for the next 3-4 months. Ha ha ha -- my arms would be in awesome shape.

Let it go.

But whatever it is? I'm okay with it. We'll adapt. And life doesn't have to be based on that day in September.

I won't let it be.

I'm letting it go.

where we learn

I originally wrote this in August 2011. Nothing has changed about where we learn {except my wonderful children are all a year older}since I wrote this except that we now have a beautiful large farm table {a gift from my in-laws} in our kitchen. 

I don't have a special room.

We homeschool and we learn in my kitchen.

For years I'd lament not having the room -- you know, the one with the cute bulletin boards, and bookshelves, and drawers for manipulatives, and reading corners, and little desks. Don't get me wrong -- if you're blessed with a room like that I think it's marvelous and wonderful. I just don't have that room. I guess I could turn our family room into a room like that, but for me, and my family I just haven't felt called to create a specific homeschool room. Part of it is simply due to space. The other part? The way we do life.

So we learn in the kitchen. And the living room. And on the deck outside. And on the couch downstairs. Or the desk outside my girls' room. Or in the car. And on the dining table. And, you know what, I'm okay with it.

I've had to realize that it's quite easy for me to get discontent with the way and space in which we homeschool. I'll look at all the linkups of rooms or the covers of magazines or facebook posts and I'll feel that twinge of jealousy in my heart. But you know what I've learned? The space doesn't make the learning. The learning will come no matter where you sit down and teach.

It's the love of learning that makes the learning.

So I guess I'll just hang a map in our kitchen, and have a chalkboard by the table. We'll cart our books around in totes and I'll scramble to the bookshelves in the office looking for that one book I misplaced. And I'll think to myself, "if only I had...." until I remember the blessings and gifts in what I do have. A table, maybe a bit worn throughout the years but full of character and memories, to sit around. Couches to read on. Bookshelves bursting with books. And a family that I love -- ones in who I share life and the love of learning.

And that's my homeschool room.

Learning without the dedicated room. And you know what? I've learned to be okay with it.

*****

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another day, another day, another day

I've only got a couple minutes to write this post.  I'm off to take Samuel to the Pediatric GI Doctor today. He's down some more weight, so I'm just a tad bit nervous.  Who knows, maybe it still is part of the healing process and it will just take time.

And, now, Mister Samuel has a bad cold/croup.

It was bound to happen.  

{Especially living in such a large family.}

I'm just praying that he stays as healthy as possible.

And, tonight I speak at the homeschool event that I chatted with you about last week.  We had a snowstorm (imagine that, here in Minnesnowta) that caused the meeting to get bumped to today. So, once again, I'd love prayers covering that time.

Life just keeps rolling.

Another day

Another day

Another day

Another day.

And in the midst of these days that stack up I've been forced to be on my knees in surrender. In those moments of release I've discovered the absolute necessity to look at life with a different lens. The lens that seeks out the beauty - the positive - the joy.  

And finding joy has caused my heart to be content.

my brain hurts

Do you ever wonder about the real important?  

Today I couldn't stop thinking.  

What is life?  What are we to do with life? 

Sometimes I just get confused.  I read blogs about families in the midst of trials and tragedy. I don't understand why so much sorrow in life. I don't understand.  I don't understand. I don't understand. Then I read blogs about everyday. About muffins, and scheduling and parenting. I love them. But then my brain hurts trying to rationalize the two extremes.

I get up and live my life. I raise my children and love my husband.  I love and live for the Lord. I teach them about the Lord. I help others. I pray. I work. I play and laugh. I cry. I write.

And then tomorrow I do it again.

Am I missing something?

Or is this just life? 

Then I wonder. About blogging. And writing. I read a post about an idea being taken from one person who felt slighted that appropriate kudos wasn't given back to her. I wonder some more -- who owned the idea? The words? Then that confuses me more. I write about faith, and life, and homeschooling, and reality,  and a large family. What's mine? Do we as bloggers own the phrasing? And does it really truly matter?

Or am I to write just to write?

Isn't life about glorifying the Father in all I do? In those moments where my house is in chaos? When I'm driving in the car as the January snow falls to the ground? Or when I stand in front of the stove making dinner for my family of nine? How about when I rock my 15 month old to sleep? Or laugh with my nine year old? Or cry when I read a blog where a child just died? Or when I help a man with no money at the gas station? Or even when I fold laundry? Or sweep? 

Is it in writing? And being real? 

Sometimes I just get confused.

Then I look at His Word.

There's hope in trials, peace in a storm, and content to be found in the everyday.

A beautiful life doesn't need to be packaged perfectly.

It's just letting go.

Not worrying.

About numbers, or wording, or if my life measures up.

Because, really, my life is to be lived for the Lord.

When I think this way then my brain hurts less.

And my heart swells with hope.

Content.

(curious about the first picture? it's a pic of a bush in our front yard taken during the latest snowstorm. blurred out like I felt)

day one

it's here

the beginning

of a new year

what will it bring?

I know life.

How can I expect it to not have

the ups and downs?

Ups and downs 

don't define

joy.

Or contentment.

"...for I have learned to be

content

in whatever

the circumstances."

Philippians 4:11b

How do you do this?

What is this type of contentment?

My word for this year?

Content.

My verse for this year?

Philippians 4:11

And this terrifies me.

I don't want the downs of the roller coaster.

I am not going to live in fear.

I am going to live thankful for each day.

Joyful.

Grateful for each moment.

Knowing that

there can be contentment

found in all things.

Dishes.

Teaching.

Driving.

Paying Bills.

Laughing.

Cleaning.

Reading.

Learning.

Doctor's visits.

Being a mom.

Planning.

Resting.

So this year

no matter what

I'm praying for contentment.

How about you? 

open my eyes

I've noticed that I envy all to easily.  I was wandering through Target wishing that my cart was overflowing with stuff, and sad that I couldn't fill it with fun items. I'd look at the frames, or the pillows, or a shirt, or holiday decorations and slowly put them back.  Not today.

And I started to grumble while I walked.

My heart began to reflect discontent.


Then I became convicted to be aware that there are those wandering Target who would love the contents of my cart -- milk, bread, and fruit. Samuel  -- a child, a gift.  So humbling. Extremely humbling.

So I started to move through Target aware of those pushing the red carts around me.  I was no longer interested in the contents of their cart, but rather the individual, the person, the family around the cart.   I discovered there were many others with just milk, bread and fruit.  And that a genuine look in the eye, or a smile, or even a couple kind words changes things.

My heart began to be grateful.

I don't want to live oblivious to those around me.

I want to be a light.  To smile.  To help. To keep my eyes on Jesus -- not the things and stuff and worries of today. To be grateful.  For that bread. The milk or fruit.  The children.

And that posture helped me.  I just needed to be aware of my own heart's quickness in wandering.  About how I was allowing consumerism, or envy, or anxiety,  or discontent, or just my own selfishness to cloud my thinking. Stuff fades.  But kindness lasts.  That's what really, really matters.

O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!

Refrain:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

uncooked noodle

That's how I've felt.

Inflexible.

Brittle.

As I prepared dinner several nights ago, on a day where my body was worn, I paused as I watched the boiling water on my stove.  I held some angelhair noodles in one hand and as I dropped them into the churning water I began to realize how I was like that uncooked noodle. As soon as it hit the water the noodle immediately changed shape -- it became soft, had energy, and moved easily.

Unlike me.

Due to the lack of water in my life I gradually became worn -- and quite easily broken.

And I'm not talking about 2 parts hydrogen to 1 part oxygen here.

I'm talking about living water -- life from the Lord.   Sadly, many days I'd wake up and continue on my day with my old strength.  Slowly my gaze shifted to things of this world.  What wasn't done. What I needed to do.  What wasn't right.  What wasn't working.

I needed life.

If anyone is thirsty let him come to me  and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.  John 7 : 37-38

But how?  How with life with seven kids?  With homeschooling? And ballet? And being a wife?

I'm tired.  Really tired.  I've got sick children (yes, they're still sick).  And bills to pay.  And chores.  When, Lord, when?  How to do this? 

I had convinced myself that the only way to "properly" give myself life was to set aside 30 minutes in the morning.  A quiet time.  I failed --  Miserably -- day after day.  It became impossible to rise at 5:30 when Samuel had just been awake at 4:30.  So I prayed.  And through those prayers, and words from others at opportune times, I began to realize that for this season, in my life, time with the Lord might not be that 30 minutes in the morning. And that was okay.

It might happen while I do laundry.  Yeah, laundry.  We've all got it, right?  Maybe I listen to my Bible instead of read it.  Maybe I pray while I fold.  Sure, there's not the serene atmosphere of an early morning study, but it is real.  

And sometimes in realness there becomes rawness and then authenticity.

So I leave verses scattered about my home to meditate on.  I study the Word with my children as we read our Bible in the morning.  And I pray throughout the day.  Not the long prayers that I could pray before I had children, but rather short prayers.  Of thanks.  Of need.  For encouragement.  And strength.

And life, real life, began to flow back into this tired momma's heart.

God met me through daily life.  

I still long and look for longer moments of quiet time.  Deep down, I know that time will return.  My kids will grow, my home will quiet down.  But, for now, the Lord has graciously shown me that He is there in all times throughout the day.  I just needed to align my heart with His.

Blessed is the man

who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked

or stand in the way of sinners

or sit in the seat of mockers.

But his delight is in the law of the LORD,

and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water,

which yields its fruit in season

and whose leaf does not wither.

Whatever he does prospers.

Psalm 1: 1-3

Be encouraged friends -- be encouraged today. Find joy, real joy, in Him.

today

Do it well.

That's my motto right now.  Whatever I do, no matter what, I want to do it well.

With all of my heart.

Be it diaper changes.  Correcting algebra. Teaching phonics. Cooking dinner.  Wiping spilled milk. Mowing the lawn. Listening. Cleaning the kitchen. Folding towels. Playing a game. Sweeping the floor. Driving to ballet. Talking with friends. Reading a story. Handling conflict. Raking Leaves. Ordering coffee. Vacuuming. Picking up toys.

There is contentment found in enjoying the moment.  It's a peace that so easily slips away.  I want to be aware  of this time, of the posture of my heart.  Am I racing to finish? Or am I recognizing the blessing in the task? The time?

Like now.  I'm blessed to hear Hannah reading to Elijah -- his sweet body nestled against big sister as she lovingly reads.  I'm loving my coffee.  The warmth of the mug that my hand surrounds.  There's joy in watching little Samuel take those quick steps between chairs -- and the happiness he shows. I hear my older boys creating an elaborate story upstairs.  And there's beauty as the warm October morning sun shines through my window.

I'm grateful.

****

By the way thank you for all of the encouraging emails and comments yesterday.  You blessed me.

And, just in case you've had some itching for a picture of Samuel -- worry no more -- here's one of my new faves. And, no, I haven't cut that baby hair -- yet. :)

reclaiming today

I've been a bit stressed these past couple weeks.  I've been planning our homeschool year.  Looking forward to what might work, and looking back at what didn't work.  Then today, after remembering September 11th from nine years ago I realized something --

In the process I've lost today.

In my prayers I've been reminded of several truths.

1) Time is finite.  Only the Lord knows the number of our days.  While planning and preparing has a definite purpose in life if it takes away from me being present then it must be tempered down.  I've written before about how I have the tendency to utter, "in a minute" to my children -- and then the minute never comes.  Keeping the idea that this moment, this day, is a gift in the forefront of my mind helps me keep perspective.  There's less "in a minutes" and more doing.

2) This too shall pass.  I was reminded of that phrase while blog-reading.  I came across a blog or an article in my homeschooling planning quest.  In that blog, the author talked about the phrase -- this too shall pass. (I'm sorry I don't have the article link.  If you are the author or know the author please inform me.) So often I've looked at those four words as words used in difficult and negative times.  Yet, just last week I was convicted to think of those words in all times. Good and bad.  Yes, I have many, many, many days that are challenging.  Homeschooling is hard.  It really is.  Being a mother and wife takes work. There's finances. And schedules.  Those things will pass.  But, this time will pass as well.  I've found myself stuck in overwhelm over daily life forgetting that this day, this time will pass. There's always tomorrow.  Or next hour. Antithetical to point one?  If they were side by side yes....but keeping the idea that time is finite and it will pass creates this healthy balance of being aware and present today.

3) Bible first.  It's so easy to start our days with what we think needs to be done.  Laundry, or academics, or cleaning, or even playing with our little ones.  But, honestly, Bible and time with the Lord needs to be first.  My main goal this year is to sit at the table with my children and simply read the Bible.  That's it.  No fancy curriculum.  No amazing flannel-graphs or prepackaged charts (although I must say that my chart of Adam's life was cool).  We're just reading verse by verse through the Old Testament -- and are being immensely blessed.  Did you know that the Lord fashioned clothing for Adam and Eve after the fall?  To me, and for my children, we found such tenderness in that act.  He could of let them run around in their strung leaves, but instead, despite their sin, he took time and made them clothing.  That's what we learned.  Together.

just had to show you part of our chart

You see, my friends, I needed to be reminded of the beauty in today.  Today might be my last day on this earth.  I don't want to spend my time angry, or worrying, or sullen, or moody, or ungrateful, or overwhelmed, or overworked, or crabby, or short-tempered, or forgetting.  I want to be alive.  I want to be grateful, loving, peaceful, kind, present, living aware of tomorrow, remembering yesterday and embracing today.

Today is a gift.  Use it wisely.

What I would

that's my Gracie

Sometimes I remember.

I remember the dreams that a little girl had -- about life, about motherhood, about being an adult.

I remember the hopes.

I remember.

What did I dream?

Did I dream about love?

Or adventure?

Or joy?

Did I know there would be hard times?

Cancer.

Loss.

Sorrow?

What did I think?

Would I dream knowing the reality?

Would I?

I would tell that little girl, that dreamer, that life is worth living.  To keep believing.  And moving.

I would tell that princess in disguise that she's worth it.  That reality doesn't determine worth.

I would tell that eight year old that God is faithful in all things.

I would tell her that being a mother is the greatest gift.

I would tell her to look forward.  To not cling to the past.

I would tell that dreamer to forgive.  To keep the slates clean.

I would tell her to love her husband.  Always.

I would tell her that life is a gift.  Time is finite.  Use it wisely.

I would tell her to live by the Spirit.  Not self.

I would tell her to keep dreaming.

simple joys

You'd think that we never have food in my house.  When I come home from the grocery store my kids are instantly hungry and it literally becomes a mild feeding frenzy in our kitchen.

Can I have some blueberries?

How about cherries?

A nectarine?

Could I just try this cereal?...please?

You got this?  You're the best!

Could I please have a teeny - tiny taste of these crackers?

So my new strawberries end up on the top shelf of our cabinet -- out of little ones reach -- just until dinner -- they're just waiting for that yummy fruit salad.

It's these simple things in life that make me content.  They bring joy.  It doesn't need to be a grandiose trip, or a new couch, or any thing huge -- it's the little things.  The excitement of Elijah as he eats a handful of blueberries. The joy that the box of freezy pops brings to my older boys.   And me?  I'm grateful.  So thankful for stores that are bursting with food.  Thankful for the $56 I saved using coupons.  Thankful for the ability to purchase food.   Thankful for the new baseball that we received as we were leaving the parking lot.  Thankful for the vehicle to get to the store.  Thankful for the working fridge to put the food into.  Thankful for the little faces grinning as they unloaded the bags. 

Thankful.

---------------------------------

Have a blessed Saturday!