86 things I want my children to know.

I sat down tonight, set the timer for fifteen minutes, and wrote a list of things that matter to me, and that I would want my children to know. So I came up with 86 in that time - some are serious, some light-hearted, but in all they are from my heart - little things that matter.

1. Don't be afraid to try.
2. Be bold.
3. Stand up for your convictions.
4. Be kind.
5. Love your family.
6. Take care of those you love.
7. Don't lose the wonder in things.

8. Remember to say I love you.
9. Your family matters.
10. Get enough sleep at night.
11. Do not compare.
12. Trying isn't failing.
13. The joy is found in the little things.
14. Joy and happiness are different.
15. Happiness is temporary - joy remains.
16. Start the day in prayer.
17. Listen to those around you.
18. Think before you speak.
19. Rise early.
20. Never run out of coffee.
21. Never run out of creamer.
22. Write down the joy moments in your life.

23. Take time to sit.
24. Read.
25. Look people in the eye.
26. Subscribe to the Sunday newspaper.
27. Don't talk on your cell phone when you are paying for items.
28. Say thank you and mean it.
29. Help others.
30. Hold the door for people.
31. Smile.
32. Don't stress about laundry.
33. Grow vegetables.
34. Plant a garden.
35. Remember to be thankful.
36. Share with others what you love about them.

37. Learning happens all the time.
38. Know your math facts.
39. Donate your old clothes.
40. Be compassionate.
41. Never leave clothes in your washing machine.
42. Fingerprints on the window will only last for a short time.
43. You're never to old to give someone you love a hug.
44. Play games.
45. Take walks.
46. Let the little ones win.
47. You can wear sandals after summer ends.
48. Never grow tired of playing in the snow.
49. Try not to grumble.
50. Sit still.
51. Watch the sunrise.
52. Watch the sunset.

53. Pray in the morning and then at night and then throughout the day.
54. Don't speed.
55. Be honest.
56. Don't be afraid to take a risk.
57. Guard your time.
58. Forgive.
59. Don't keep a past record of wrongs.
60. Be thankful for new mornings.
61. Don't fret the spills.
62. Step back and see all you do have.
63. Sit on the dock at the lake and dangle your feet in the water.
64. Swim in the summer in the lake.
65. Go fishing.
66. Play Slapjack.

67. Bring your own bags to the store.
68. Recycle.
69. Be humble.
70. Learn to say I'm sorry.
71. Stand up for what is right.
72. Thank your garbage man.
73. Don't ever run out of all paper products at the same time.
74. Learn to say thank you.
75. It's progress not perfection.
76. Your siblings matter to you.

77. It's okay to have pancakes for dinner.
78. It's even okay to have ice cream for dinner once in a while.
79. Learn the names of trees.
80. Go to midnight movie premieres.
81. Respect elders.
82. Know how to say no.
83. Manage your time wisely.
84. Always check behind your car before you back up.
85. Buy what is on sale.
86. Appreciate, find joy, and value today.

Done.

Now to set the timer again and write 86 more.

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sticks and stones may break my bones

sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me....

She was just a girl. Little, in fifth grade, with uncontrolled frizzy hair and a freckly face. But, despite that, oh so awkward stage, she felt good that day. In fact, she felt amazing and full of confidence. She had on these cool pants - floral pants, very 80s pants, with a bright bold pattern splashed about everywhere. And she had on her white sweatshirt - cute with the 3/4 length sleeves and the trendy emblem on the front. In her mind? Perfection.

She got permission to look at the nailpolish in Target while her mom and dad looked at the shampoo in the next aisle. She looked - at the reds, blues and the pinks - feeling as if nothing could stop her right then. To her, it was the perfect growing up type of afternoon. And just then, three boys, teenagers probably, came around the corner, saw her, the anonymous girl, and decided to yell something at her.

Hey Ugly.

She looked up, the once confident little eleven year old in her favorite outfit, and saw them. Laughing. At her. They ran off and left her standing there in the midst of pointless nailpolish. Who cared about luscious pink and cherry reds now. Now, she hated her clothes. She hated those pants with the purple flowers splotched about. She hated her hair. She now thought she was ugly.

And she lived with that. For years and years and years.

Hey Ugly.

She grew. Got married. Had children. Yet, still in the background of her mind were those two little words. Hey Ugly. She let them grow and grow and grow. Then it developed into more and more more lies about herself that developed from one little lie yelled at her in the midst of an early years Target.

You're not good enough.
No one likes you.
You're dumb.
You can't do it.
You'll never do anything.

All from Hey Ugly.

Until, one day, that little girl, who was now an adult learned the truth of Hey Ugly. She learned that she was not ugly, but rather a daughter of the King. She learned that those kids, those boys, probably never thought again of the words that they yelled at that little girl in Target with her fabulously cute, but never worn again, floral pants. Or how those words could define a life. Until the girl, now an adult, decided to no longer live with those words defining her life. She instead began to live knowing that she was beautiful - In the Lord.

She learned about the power of words. She learned how callously and carelessly they are thrown around - little phrases here and there and when these words are left unchecked they grow into lies distorting the truth of self. She learned that as a mother that she needs to absolutely guard the words that she tells her children. She learned that she is not an emotion. She is not angry, sad, mad, scared, fearful and all of that. She is much more than emotion.

And she learned to forgive and let go of the hurt from those boys that decided in their world to be funny and yell at a little girl Hey Ugly.

She wasn't ugly. She just believed them.

But, not anymore.

She learned how those are lies of a culture that are destined to hold people, to hold women, to hold moms back. The lies don't define a life. The lies don't define worth. They don't define value. Or potential. They don't define beauty. They don't define capability. Instead she learned that truth defines.

And now, she's sitting here, behind a laptop writing to you.

She's telling you that you are not ugly, worthless, pointless, never going to measure up, a failure, don't matter, and all of that lie filled chatter that can run through our minds. Rather, you are beautiful. You are worthy. You are full of potential. You, right now, in your home with all that you are doing and have to do, with those old lies that no longer need to run through your head, you are absolutely beautiful.

Do not ever forget that.

Do not ever listen to the Hey Ugly cries of this world.

You are more than that.

You are a beautiful daughter of the King.

She's telling you, she's imploring of you, to listen to that finding joy truth instead.

*****
this post is  a small portion of the keynote that I gave at the 2:1 Conference 
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spitfire redefined

There he stood.

My spitfire of a four year old named Elijah. This is the same Elijah who days early tried to bite the Christmas tree just because he wanted to see what it tasted like.  I had relented and let him stand up front with the rest of his preschool class as they practiced for our church's Christmas program. Last week, ah last week, it ended poorly -- with me removing him because he was squirming so incredibly much and simply not listening.

I let him try again.

As I sat back in the chair, holding Samuel, I watched him. His little body, wiggling around, but trying to be like a statue momma. Then when the kids sang he moved his mouth, up and down and up and down, pretending to sing Joy to the World. {His older brothers told him if he didn't know the words to just pretend and move your mouth.} And then, it was time for the lines. Down the row, each child said their line, and my spitfire Elijah stood last. I just waited. And watched.

It was time.

Of course, Elijah forgot his line, and had to be reminded. But, then once the spitfire of mine heard the line he belted out in his loudest voice, a voice that carried into the narthex,

Jesus is MINE!

I looked at him -- at him standing there proud of his loud voice -- and I loved him. The love I had for him washed over me -- love that was a love uniquely for him. God made him who he is -- with the silly faces he makes, and loud voice, and incredible energy. Those things that I work so hard to tame in him are exactly the things that someday will make him a powerful man for the Lord.

So I must be careful. It's all too easy to define based on the things that we see as potential flaws. Yes, he was wiggly, and yes, he lip-synced to Joy to the World, but also yes, he proudly proclaimed truth about Jesus.

Sometimes, sometimes, I need to sit back and not shush him and let him be who the Lord is molding him to be. Now, of course, there needs to be the obvious boundaries established, but it's also becoming more and more impressed upon my heart to begin to see those passionate areas in each of my children as not something to be necessarily snuffed out but perhaps, something instead to be cultivated and molded.

Let him shout Jesus is Mine in a church full of people. We need more people willing to be brave and shout truth. And often, it's those spirited, energy-filled, little spitfires who will grow to be passionate in proclaiming truth about Jesus.

I am proud of him.

I'm linking with my sweet friend Carissa today for miscellany monday. :)

see this sweet guy?

He's Caleb.

And he's independent.

And this morning -- I almost forgot to see the good, the strong, the independence.

Instead I saw what I thought was wrong.

We were in those last minutes before church. You know those minutes -- crazy times -- running around looking for that lone lost shoe, and rushing kids up to the bathroom {even though they'll ask to leave during the sermon}, and quick bites to eat.  Caleb was hungry so he decided to get himself a bowl of cereal. With sugar.

All I saw was spilled sugar.

I almost blurted out some annoyed words about the trail of sugar between the cereal bowl and the sugar bowl. But, for some reason I saw that face and had a moment of pause.

I was only seeing what I deemed a mistake, not the independence. The good. The growing up.

Why was that 1/4 teaspoon of sugar all I saw? Why did that become the important?

For that split second when I realized the truth my heart stung. I realized that instead of praising him I was so close to getting after him. He wasn't being careless -- he's five -- he was trying to help. Be independent.

So instead I told him great job, and that he's such a helper, and how proud of him I was.

Next thing I know, without me even asking or mentioning it, he went and got a paper towel and cleaned up the sugar {and yes, most of it's on the floor}. He sat down, looked at me, and smiled. A proud "I did it" type of smile.

Thank goodness that we as mothers get those moments of clarity.

I just need it more often.

****

When have you had that moment of sweet clarity?

mud can be beautiful

Spring has come.

Along with that comes buds popping, birds returning, grass growing, and mud.

Everywhere.

Kay, at Heart and Soul Pursuits, started a new project called Inspire Me. A couple weeks ago she contacted me asking if I could write about specific ways in which I live -- destined, devoted or daring -- and how. Honestly, I really believe that life is a collection of all three each ebbing and flowing creating each day. That being said, right now, in my journey, I've been focused on the idea of devoted.

Devoted to finding joy.
Devoted to my family.
and
Devoted to embracing who God made me to be.

You see, I struggle with thinking that I'd be better if -- if I was better scheduled, or more structured, or I finish an entire curriculum, or my house was like this, or I look like this, or so on. As I gradually begin to listen to these ifs regarding myself I begin to focus on just the mud.

At least it seems like mud to me.

So I've been praying. And thinking. And pondering. And starting to recognize that maybe, just maybe, I need to start resting in some of the character traits that I've been fighting. These traits are who the Lord designed me as -- and that instead of running from what I think is muddy I just need to sit in and embrace it.

Here's an example:  I've looked at how I homeschool -- without the rigorous box checking and tight daily schedule -- and have realized how I've fought that part of me for years.  I so wanted to fit this mold of what I thought was ideal homeschooling -- so sure that that way was the right way and certainly convinced that my way didn't measure up.

Ever since Samuel got sick with Celiac Disease this winter, God has used that challenging situation to challenge me. I've begun to look at myself and our homeschooling philosophy as no longer muddy, but unique, designed for our family and for our lives. We find joy and beauty and life in it -- from choosing to utilize a sunny day and work in the garden and save math for the days of rain or snow or in making lunch together at 1:30 pm instead of 12 noon sharp or in letting my kids read and read and read and read and forgetting the schedule for the morning.

Or letting them play in the mud. Being creative. Kids.

God designed me. I've become determined to embrace and devote myself to becoming who HE wants me to be -- not who I think I should be or who I think others think I should be or who the world says I should be -- but the wife, mother, daughter, friend that is what Christ wants.

And sometimes, just sometimes, that discovery means being okay in the mud.

Because even mud is beautiful.

My challenge to you? Start looking and praying about the muddy places. Maybe, just maybe, those things that we don't like are exactly how we're meant to be.

the bottom line

Bottom line?  Life can be tedious day in and day out.  There aren't many gold stars given to moms.  We just work and work and work.  And after awhile it's easy to start to carry a grudge -- resentment can creep in -- and then the beauty of life starts to fade away.  Dishes, and reading, and laundry, and cleaning, and teaching, and all that becomes overwhelming.  Life appears to be a list of never-ending to-do items.

Bottom line? Those areas of life can be redeemed.  They can be beautiful.  For me, it's when they're surrendered.  It's those breath by breath moments asking for Christ's strength coupled with asking Him to reveal the honor and beauty in being a mom.  A wife.  A daughter.

Bottom line?  Society yearns to rob the dignity of womanhood from us.  Being a mother isn't noble -- we hear.  You're not beautiful -- screams in our faces.  You'll never measure up -- we read.  Everywhere we're reminded of how we potentially fail.  Truth?  We're (especially me) listening to the wrong voices.  Rather than the taunts of the world we need to be focused on truth. My barometer of self can never be measured on the world's scale.  Ever.

Bottom line?  I failed last night.  I was crabby and discontent and overwhelmed.  To make it worse, it was on Chloe's birthday.  Nothing like adding salt to a wound.  I was just frustrated and tired and my family knew it.

Bottom line? My night was redeemed.  Not by myself.  But in humbling myself.  Letting go of pride.  And instead focusing on the truth in Christ. It took me stepping away. Taking ten minutes by myself.  Honestly telling my kids that I needed to be alone for just a bit.  And then looking at my mistakes.  Writing.  Admitting that I'm not perfect.  Seeking forgiveness.  And starting again.

Bottom line?  I love that Christ's mercies are new every morning.  That is fabulous news.  Especially for me...today's bottom line? Letting go of that need for perfectionism and instead focusing on my word - content - and truly living that way.

the whine redirected

It's not fair.

I don't want to do more.

I did that last time.

It's not, not, not fair.

********

Three little words -- it's not fair -- spoken so freely at times in my home.  Whether it's the dishes, or the laundry, or tidying up a room, all too often I hear those disgruntled words muttered from the mouths of my babes.  That statement drives me batty.

The work would go faster with a good attitude.

Yet, there's a tendency to get stuck in making everything equal.  Life simply isn't fair -- I'll tell them.  When my kids adopt an attitude of needing everything fair - it spins our entire day in a frenzy.  It's not about fair.  It's about an attitude of servanthood. Of looking beyond self and seeking to help those around you.  Even if it's your seven year old brother or fourteen year old sister.

The sooner one can let go of the idea of trying to make everything equal and balanced - the sooner there can be peace found in one's heart.   Trust me.  I know.  How often do I lament how things don't seem fair in my own life?  And when I allow my thoughts to linger there the more discontent I become.

Life isn't about fair.

When the heart is right, work is easier, and it's not fair is no more.

As a family we work on heart issues.  We emphasize the good in those around me or the blessings we have or how we should be grateful for the dishes to put away or the clothes to fold.  When the perspective shifts from self then the need to be fair in everything lessens.

Can you guess what kind of day we've had so far?

And can I tell you that now it's developing into a beautiful day?

The sun is shining.  The dishes are done.  And my children are grateful.

beauty through tired eyes

that's Elijah after his Aunt Abby did his hair

See my sweet Elijah?  With his crazy spikey gel-covered hair?

He's sick today.  So sick -- we knew.  Instead of running, he sat.  Instead of climbing, he cuddled.  Todd called as I was dropping the girls off at ballet and requested that I bring him to urgent care.  When the husband asks that I take a child to the doctor - I listen and move.

So I brought my sweet three year old to the doctor, and ended up sharing a bit of our story.  Some snippets of our cancer journey made it to the surface, and by the end of the check up the urgent care doctor was calling Elijah a miracle.  I loved that.  It was endearing to me to have a man, a virtual stranger, care deeply for my little man.

It's easy to overlook those moments, isn't it?  We can hurry about dashing from errand to appointment to the store to ballet and gradually we lose the gifts tucked into those snippets of time.  Like a doctor, calling my son 'Lijee, instead of Elijah.  I found out that this doctor has a son of his own named Elijah.  How else would he know such an endearing nickname, and one that we use, to call our son?

I was thankful.

At Target, while filling our prescription, I was blessed by the pat on my hand from the pharmacist.  She must have seen the weariness in my eyes -- between Samuel's croup and Elijah and the other boys' coughs -- I am tired.  She told me, after explaining how to correctly dose Zithromax, to have a blessed afternoon.  She could have just left and moved onto the next customer.

I was thankful.

Then tonight, a dear friend listened as I replayed the saga of my week.  She didn't hurry my story.  She listened.  Oh, how I needed an empathetic ear, to feel cared for, and to be encouraged.

I was thankful.

Sometimes the ordinary moments of a frenetic day yields the most beautiful lessons.  Lessons in listening, and caring, and speaking.  God can meet us in unique and intimate ways throughout our days.  From a nickname, to a blessing to a friend -- those are gifts -- ones that I could have missed or taken for granted.  Yet, for some reason, today with my exhausted body I saw them.

I am thankful.

____________

Just in case you're wondering, my little Elijah has a double ear infection and the starts of pneumonia. We knew he had taken a turn for the worst when he refused to get off our laps and would just rest on the floor.  He's had a bad cough since last week Friday, and it seemed to be mending, but just today shifted.  He's sleeping now.  And, I'm thankful for that as well -- and for trusting my husband's instincts.

Elijah -today- at Target waiting for his medicine

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.

to and fro, up and down, back and forth

You get the picture?  Think volley -- like in tennis.

That's my mind.  Right now.

I can't seem to come to a resting place for our upcoming year.  You know we homeschool, right?  Well, at heart, I'm this relaxed homeschooler.  Love the organic style of learning.  Love sitting on a couch reading.  Love that.  Then, on the very same breath, I love structure.  Having a plan, written out, with boxes to check and goals to complete.  I drool (not like Samuel) over these pre-planned curriculums -- where the day is scheduled out.

I think it comes down to more than curriculum.

It's more me.  It's the internal battle, the struggle to figure out who I'm supposed to be.  It's learning to be content in our day to day journey without all the bells and whistles.  You see, right now, I'm discovering that I am to be secure in not having the pre-planned curriculum (which, as a disclaimer, is not a bad thing).  And that even without it I am to be diligent.  Somehow I've given myself an excuse -- I don't have what I need or want or think I need -- and I can't do that.  I'm not being faithful and a steward of my time and using what I do have. I keep looking outside, thinking that's the answer, instead of looking in, praying and working hard.  It takes perseverance. 

So the catalogs that flood my mailbox now line my recycling bin (shhhhh...don't tell the publisher).  The emails are in the trash.  Now, I'm trying to be content in the direction the Lord desires for our family.   Not the direction that I think, or the publisher tells me I should have, or the standards list.  No.  I'm doing what God wants.

Maybe I don't have the list with pre-planned neat boxes to check that I thought I needed.

But, I do know that I'm following His path for our family.  And this path?  Involves me believing in myself, trusting in Him, and maybe, just maybe, making my own neat boxes to check.

is it just me?

I have these blogging struggles.  I really do.  Not about writing, as I could write, write, write.  But more about NOT allowing me to get caught up in the numbers aspect of blogging.  That's not me.

Yet, I found myself wondering about what makes readers come and go.

You'd think I wouldn't care, right? Yet, I'll be wondering if it was something I wrote -- was I not serious enough? or funny? is my grammar bad?  my pictures not high quality? or what? Somehow I get as insecure as a lanky third grader wishing to be picked for a team for kickball.

So I started to ponder the reasons behind the insecurities.  Comes down to those old struggles about fitting in and being noticed. Those traps.  It's ironic that the outlet that I love so much has the very traps that I've struggled with since I was the lanky third grader mentioned above.

So instead -- I've decided to focus on what I do have, the truly important, and what I love about blogging. Those truths? 

Many of my followers have become my friends.
Truly friends.
Friends that I trust, that I love, that I am grateful for.
It's not about the numbers.
Really.
It's about the relationships.
And I'm grateful.
For you.

It's a strange thing, blogging.  Strange how it makes me look right at my heart.