A Blog In Which She Blogs About Why She Rarely Blogs Anymore

(How's that for a run-on-words-title?)

I've been on a blog strike. I know. It's bad. Don't be fooled by the blogs I posted last week; most of them were drafts that'd been stored up for weeks but never seemed to arrive at a punch line until I stripped my brain down and just focused on getting a blog done for once. Just to prove it, this blog was started over a month ago. Yeah... it's taken that long to get a simple blog post done.

So in a desperate attempt to break out of the "I-can't-think-of-anything-to-blog-about-mode" I decided to just come right out and blog about why I've been in a blogging slump.

I calmly click the little "home" icon on my computer. Up flashes my "home" page. (Weird how that works, huh?)

And then I click "My account" and suddenly my eyes blink onto a bunch of hyperlinked options. I select "Blogger" of all things and merely zoom off to Blog spot. Now that I'm here, what was I supposed to be doing? Oh yeah, blogging.

What a novel thought.

Now for the blog...

Normally people blog about things that are on their mind. You know, weighty matters, light-hearted fun or photo tutorials. Some people even blog about their pets or politics. And their projects. Others blog about their kids and husbands (ahem). Pretty much, if it's on your mind and you've self-assigned yourself the title of "Blogger" you can write about anything you want.

Right?

Um, wrong.

Okay, maybe you can write about it but sometimes what's most on my mind, is unspeakable.

(If this isn't making sense, you're welcome to click "Next Blog" at the top of this page or utilize the little red box with the white "x" in it up in the right hand corner. But before you decide, let me tell you that I think this post just might end up being a perfect illustration as to why THIS blogger hasn't been too busy on her blog in the last year. So if you care to know, read on. If not, I completely understand and won't even know that you didn't actually read this whole post.)

Sometimes I visit nice blogs and the blogger seems to have plethora of good experiences, happy days, perfect lives and no tears. They never make mistakes and if they do, they don't cry themselves to sleep over them. Or at least they don't say so on their blog.

I hate those kinds of blogs. They irk me. Irritate me. And make me think that the blogger is either the one and only person with a perfect life who has everything figured out OR they're totally faking it.

I mean seriously... HOW do some of these homeschooling stay-at-home moms do it and get everything done? I'm lucky to get the laundry sorted, let alone create a crafty masterpiece to set on the dining room table, complete with a photo tutorial detailing everything.

And then I realized that I do the very thing I hate seeing in other bloggers. I only let the good things in my life come out on my blog. I only write about what's safe. What's decent. What's funny. And cute. I'm not open about my bad days. Or how hard life has been. Or what I've been learning in the "trials and tribulations" category.

But, now I understand those Always Have Everything Put Together Kind Of People. They may NOT have it all together but because the World Wide Web can be such a heartless place of cruelty and criticism (like I was doing to their perfect blogs), they're limited to only portraying the things in their life that won't be cut apart and criticized.

It reminds me of my days on the farm when I'd watch chickens in their pen. If one chicken had a sore, the other chickens all picked at it until it was a bigger sore. And then finally, the injured chicken would become a victim of what was a little scab at one time. And, because all the other chickens had made the scab become an infected, oozing sore that could possibly monopolize the whole flock because of the bacteria that could freely grow in the infested sore, the injured chicken shriveled to just a little pile of bones and feathers. All because of a little sore.

People on the internet are no different. And when a blogger has a "sore subject" that they could blog about, they're better off hiding it and only showing their good side to the rest of the chickens people on the internet. Because that sore subject could become a big, oozing topic that would leak infection over the entire blog and soon they'd either have to shut their blog down for the sake of saving some of their dignity or avail themselves to even more pecking and picking apart.

So in a nut-shell, I realized that according to my blog, I am also one of the Always Have Everything Put Together Kind Of People. And that makes me feel so accomplished today and that at least I'm doing something right. Ha.

Now to further the topic at hand of what's distracting this once-avid-blogger, I'm just wondering if you've ever had a time in your life when your mind pounded with loud, piercing thoughts? Okay, I guess I can't see a show of hands through my computer screen even if you are raising yours so I'll just branch off here and tell you that I have had a time in my life when my mind pounded with loud, piercing thoughts.

For me, it usually happens before or after something big has taken place or somewhere in the middle. And when this Big Thing has happened or is almost happening or is in the middle of happening, I get the Loud Piercing Thoughts Pounding In My Mind experience when I'm alone.

Me being alone is a rare thing these day but I've pretty much figured out that it happens in two different ways.

Way #1: Driving Alone. Which has honestly been all of maybe three times in recent months.

Way #2: Morning Shower. Which has honestly been a daily routine for, well... a long time.

I guess these two times are pretty much the only two times that reality isn't running to me with bloody mouths, head bumps and small objects up their nose. (By "reality" I mean my kids, in case you couldn't tell.)

I noticed one day as I drove down the road all alone, the thoughts, the heavy heart and the swirling questions floating around my van got to be too much. So I turned on the radio. I don't know what was on... news maybe? And it distracted me from thinking and it all felt quiet again even though the sound of the radio filled my vehicle. It's weird how sometimes your mind all by itself can be louder than anything that comes through your ears.

Sometimes when I do stop and think and allow my mind to digest and develop patterns, solutions and ideas, it all starts to look like one big, jumbled ball of yarn and for some reason, it looks too exhausting to untangle it all. The act of thinking only ends up hurting since the thoughts pound harder and harder until pretty soon I feel like my whole head is filled with a screaming white noise that I can't shut off because my brain just simply isn't wired to STOP thinking.

So then I just want to take the Yarn Ball and throw it out the vehicle window as I drive or wash it down the shower drain if I'm showering. Or simply spend time with my kids or husband or help a friend move. Anything to distract my mind from thinking.

Sometimes I wonder where this complexity of life comes from. What it is that makes me react in a I-wish-I-could-shut-my-brain-off-kind-of-way. But then I realize: it happens when something changes.

Change is the culprit of so many things. Change in a good way; change in a bad way. Happy change. Sad change.

Usually life is filled with a balanced mixture of many things and not one ingredient tends to over-ride the whole picture. But when one ingredient overpowers the other additives to life, pretty soon you feel like Chocolate Chip Cookies that have 10 parts baking soda to 1 part flour and no chocolate chips. Yeah, life can be that unbalanced and complicated sometimes.

And that's the way it's been for this blogger on the other side of your screen.

I've had to learn the hard way what I think. What I believe. And what I know. It's made me stop and think about what matters. What life is all about. What the Bible really says. And what my goals should be.

At the end of it all, I come away with a resolved confidence to find The Truth. To know God's plan. And hear God's heart.

Because the one thing I've learned this past year is that God always answers prayer. Though He's rarely early and never late, He's always on time.

And that's something that never changes.

Killing Dead Flies

Our house becomes quickly infested with flies this time of year if the kitchen door is left open for any period of time. You can simply turn the door knob, slip outside, close the door and have the whole thing over in 2 seconds. In just that amount of time, an entire population of flies will have infested the kitchen for their annual family reunion.

The above scene happened recently. A divine prompting came to my dear husband's heart and he went on a wild rampage of fly killing. The floor, cupboards and counter were littered with swarms of dead flies.

Landon wandered through the kitchen shortly after and noticed the flies. The DEAD flies. He began to stomp on them with his foot and smash them with his index finger. He seemed quite pleased.

Finally he remarked, "You know, it's really easy to kill dead flies."

Yeah, it is, I thought, trying to stifle a laugh.

In his mind, the flies were still available for the kill. The battle wasn't over until the flies were out-of-site-out-of-mind. Also known as: the garbage can. They still needed a crushing blow, even if they were laying limp and motion-less on the floor.

Maybe because of his humorous outlook at "killing dead flies" or maybe because in some ways, I can relate to that experience on a more adult level, I've been thinking a lot about my cute son's innocent remark on something so obvious. Because really, What is the point of killing something dead?

Not to wax eloquent or make this into a spiritual allegory but really, how often I find myself doing the same things. I strive and work to accomplish something that's already been done. I feel pleased when I achieve at finishing an already accomplished task and I move on to do other counterproductive things similar to "killing dead flies."

I become aware of weaknesses in my life and work hard to root them out of my heart. When in reality, Christ has already conquered those things; His grace is there to replace the things I struggle with and give me victory over them instead.

I become influenced by the fear of man and strive to impress others with my ability to make them happy. When in reality, I'm only called to please God. And that is accomplished when I take my place at the foot of the cross.

I become overwhelmed with the daunting tasks of motherhood and work harder to be more joyful. More gracious. More gentle. When in reality, that is already available to me in the person of Jesus Christ.

Why do I do things like "kill dead flies?" Why do I so easily forget that all I need is Christ? Why do I misplace the reality that nothing can separate me from the love of Christ?

It's probably because I'm too busy looking for dead flies to kill that I forget to look up and realize my Father has already gone ahead and accomplished the battlefield of life before me and made a river through the desert for me.

After I explained to Landon that the flies were already killed, thanks to his own father, he got a knowing smirk on his face and continued his battle with the dead flies. It amused me to see my son take deliberate and careful aim with his finger tip and plunge his finger tip into an already dead fly. He boasted in his victory and seemed impressed he could accomplish such impossible feats, even if it was his dad that made it possible for him to do it.

In the same way, God lays already conquered things in my life and joys in the pleasure I find in claiming them as my own.

To remember that because of Him, I can find victory in the struggles in life, the weaknesses of my flesh and the tendencies to fear that I have. And to remember to see each battle before me as a mere dead fly, that's already been killed.

When God Hands You Lemons, Smile

I had plans today. Plans to get out and do something fun. Just the kids and I. Toby had another engagement he was committed to and I thought to myself, "It's rare on a weekend when it's just the kids and I." So I thought something fun and out-of-the-ordinary was in order.

But, then my plans changed. I was left with no vehicle. "Hmmmm," I wondered. "Now what?"

I was tempted to be a tad miffed and even grumble. The temptation came to fruition and I did express my irritation ever so slightly. It seems to be the trend of my life lately... get plans, crash plans, no plans.

Inwardly, I made desperate exasperations like, "Why can't I just have a normal life? Why can't things just be predictable?? Why can't we just have a fun day?" And as I selfishly mused and grumbled in my heart on these depressing thoughts, I was convicted to think in a more logical sense.

And I came to a million-dollar answer to that age old question: What is normal life??

Normal life, as I have come to realize for myself, is when no loved one close to me is dying or has recently died. All the other little hiccups and bumps and bruises in life are really pale in comparison to what the death of a loved one can do to you.

The heart ache. The pain. The constant reality of death. The uncertainty of life. The dooming despair of another sad funeral. The quickly-emptying Kleenex boxes. The "I-don't-want-to-go-through-another-day" feeling. The despair. Death of a loved one really is one of THE worst things a person can go through. Even if the departed one is in Heaven. Goodbyes are just cruel.

As I observed my little disappointment today and the trite way I felt slighted because I had plans change once again, I thought, "Really Court, no one died; quit acting like they did."

And so the kids and I did things like sweep the porch. (Toddlers are easily entertained.) And in the process of sweeping the floor, the littlest one found a spider in the milk can. He stayed happily occupied with that for quite some time. He went on to do things like look for other bugs. Next thing I knew, he had a leash fastened to a log and he was dragging the whole contraption down the side walk. The older two played "marching band." And happily played and helped me tidy the porch.

I was pleased to find that it doesn't take a "day away from home" to make life more fun. That you don't need a vehicle to get to a fun place. That kids don't need a trip into town to feel like the day was fun. I knew all this stuff before but never really agreed with it. My bad.

It's funny how easy it is to 'make lemonade' when you right your attitude after life God hands you lemons. It gives life a normalcy feeling that is otherwise lost in the fray of change and despair. And it makes you realize that life really isn't as bad as you'd like to think it is.

Life IS uncertain. But, a smile doesn't have to be.

God Knows

Life's strange twists and turns seem to be overtaking at times. But, when I remember we've been sent forth as sheep in the midst of wolves, it's no wonder this ole' world can be a cruel place.

Yesterday's message in church was on being Christ's disciple and the cost that is. I've been thinking about that cost but even more so, the cost paid by the Lamb of God. As sheep we can follow a Shepherd Who Himself knew all our grief and pain. Because He Himself was the Lamb sacrificed for my sin. For your sin.

And as each pathway comes into my life, I can know without a doubt that the Great Shepherd has already gone before me and will only allow into my life what He Himself has approved.

"Everything that comes to us has already been filtered through the loving hands of our Father." (A frequent statement a dear friend shared often with me during her time on earth. After a harsh trial with cancer, she now knows the physical presence of being with her Father.)

I ran across this poem recently and thought the timing of finding it was profound...

Fear not, little flock, He goeth ahead,
your Shepherd selecteth the path you must tread;
the waters of Marah He'll sweeten for thee,
He drank all the bitter in Gethsemane.

Fear not, little flock, whatever your lot,
He enters all rooms, "the doors being shut;"
He never forsakes; He never is gone,
So count on His presence in darkness and dawn.

-Paul Radar

The Subway Experience

I have undocumented proof that Subway Sandwich Servers must take a "Make-Customer-Service-Not-Your-Forte" class. Across the United States of America, this great land we live in, I have had the occasion to visit all most of the Subways along I-80. And across the board land, they all have the. exact. same. customer. service. rating in my book.

First of all, the way they look at you abruptly with plastic-gloved-hands-hanging in mid air while asking you, "What kind of sandwich do you want?" And of course, since they're making you feel obligated to answer quickly by holding their arm out with a hand extended towards the bread shelf, you start stuttering and mumbling wondering what kind of sandwich you do actually want. All the while pitying their extended arm that is sure to get a cramp in it.

In your mind you can just SEE their foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

So, you say, "Uh, um, the, um, yeah, ah, what kind of bread do you have?"

And they look at you with this shocked look on their face and answer you as if you've never been to a Subway before in your life. With a quick tongue, they roll off a bunch of words and you hear something about Italian and oatmeal and flat bread and herbs.

So you pick a bread, like wheat or white since that's the only kind you know off the top of your head, and they happen to grab it abruptly from it's nestled little bread shelf and hack into it with a huge knife. And then they stare at you again.

You don't know if you should ask them how they're day is going, how long they've worked at Subway, if they like working at Subway, if they ever feel like their hands get too sweaty with the gloves on, what town they're from, etc. Before you have a chance to engage in any friendly conversation, they ask what you'd like on your sandwich with this lets-get-down-to-business air about them.

You start to answer but then realize that there's a whole butcher shop of meat organized neatly in all those little tin containers so you ask politely what kind of meat they have.

They look at you like you've never in your life even heard of Subway.

So you pick a meat and then they wonder if you want cheese. Of course you want cheese but they have to know what kind of cheese you want. You say the name of one of the cheeses they listed off to you and then they slide your sandwich quickly down to the veggie side of the sandwich bar and head back to intimidate help the next customer.

The Subway Veggie Specialist asks you what you want on your sandwich. And since you heard a customer ahead of you say "everything but the..." you decided to try that answer.

So with a ready answer you say, "Everything but the..." and before you can say what thing you do NOT want, the Subway Veggie Specialist happens to grab a very generous handful of the very thing you do NOT want on your sandwich before you can even say "lettuce."

You find your heart beating faster, your palms getting sweaty and your voice getting weak. With all the strength you can muster, you squeak, "No, um, ah... everyth--ah, not the lettuce though."

As you look at the veggies neatly housed in each tin container, you recognize a few other things you wouldn't like so you name off a handful of ingredients you do NOT want on your sandwich. You just know your Subway Veggie Specialist is thinking in the back of her mind, "Didn't I hear you say 'everything'?"

A squirt of oil and vinegar and a couple shakes of salt and pepper and your sandwich is swaddled up in a nice, crisp sandwich paper and with that, slid into a bag. You remark to yourself that you never thought to put salt and pepper on a cold meat sandwich at home, maybe you should try it.

And then comes the bill. You have no clue how they tally up your order or decide how much you should pay to have that kind of sandwich but you did notice the $4-foot-long advertisements in the window. At Pizza Parlors, you normally pay to have each kind of topping put on your pizza but at Subway, you hope the same rule doesn't apply. Because remember? You did say "everything on it."

When your two 6" sandwiches and half a dozen cookies and two little bags of chips comes to close to $14, you decide that maybe trying a little salt and pepper on your cold meat sandwiches at home would actually save you money.



And the feeling of intimidation.

FLEXIBILITY 101

If I could, I would take a class that would give me an education on the #1 important ingredient to life, health and the pursuit of happiness. And that ingredient I would learn would be called:

FLEXIBILITY

My highly educated teacher would lecture on the following statement:

"We all realize that there are more than just ONE important ingredient to life just like there's more than one important ingredient in chocolate chip cookies. Take flour for example... flour is usually the first ingredient listed on the recipe requirements for cookies. We all know that. Another important addition is baking soda because it's vital to the leaven needed to produce a slight raise in the structure of the cookie itself. The chemistry the baking soda produces causes the cookie to manufacture fibers in which it raises at a certain temperature and then conforms and holds to the shape it grew to. We also need sugar. Sugar appeals to the taste buds and takes the cookie out of the "health food" category and puts the cookie in a "dessert food" category. This is important to the life and welfare of the cookie because how many meals in our country today automatically offer a "health menu" at the end of the entree? None. But you will find a "dessert menu" offered at most diners today. This is important to the production and consumption of each individual cookie destined to be created. But chocolate... chocolate is vital to the purpose, the value and the final completion of the chocolate chip cookie. What would the blend of flour and baking soda and sugar be without chocolate chips? It would be a lump of flour, baking soda and sugar. This is proof we need chocolate, students."

Of course, the point of the professor would be understood by all and it would so obviously apply to the topic in our class that day: Flexibility. It would also apply to any student studying how to become a professional chocolate chip cookie maker. And it would appeal to the general public that insists on funding the production and education of good chocolate. It would be a great class to take because so many people with so many different educational pursuits, could benefit from such a knowledgeable professor.

The tests I'd take after that class would reflect my understanding of the concept of Flexibility through the professor's thorough presentation and I would probably pass the test with flying colors... like a parrot passes by high in the sky.

My education of this would give me strong beliefs that being flexible should effect our everyday life like the h2O we drink effects our general health. Without flexibility, we will never learn how to bend over backwards. And we all know how handy it is to bend over backwards when we need to reach the floor behind us without turning around

Flexibility will influence the following:

How and when we look at freedom... "Do I need this shower or am I just looking for a break?"

How and why we look at fat... "Do I need to lose weight or do I just not like the way my stomach bulges and folds and hangs over my waistline."

How and where we look for fun... "Is there true purpose in an expensive vacation or do I just not like getting the mail everyday?"

How and what we call our favorite... "Am I eating this ice cream because I like it or is it truly my favorite?"

These and other attributes play into how we're flexible.

When we're flexible, we eat ice cream because we need a break and can't find the bathroom under the pile of toilet paper the two year old piled in the toilet.

When we're flexible, we walk to the mailbox every week or two so we can check the "in a weekly exercise program" box on the doctor's form.

When we're flexible, we enjoy noticing the way fat clings to our bodies like a school of jelly fish because it helps take our mind off the beach side vacation we'd really like to go on.

When we're flexible, we enjoy being cooped up for days in our house with sick kids because we embrace the slogan, "Freedom is never free."

Flexibility lends itself in many different ways to our perspectives, our entertainment views, our attitudes and our over all mental health.

Like when your daughter comes gasping and banging and pounding on the door, hardly able to catch her breath so she can scream hysterically tenderly call for her mother. And you get to the door and you find her wildly hopping on her feet like she's painfully jumping on hot coals. You notice she's gasping and huffing like something horrible is happening and you realize she's possibly getting her feet chopped off. And so you ask her what's going on in her young little life as she bounces energetically in a six foot circle on the cement porch floor. And you ask with concern in your voice because you care for her well being and you want her to know that you really do think she's a normal child. You articulate your question carefully as if an acting-out-of-her-mind-child would be able to answer your question sanely because you enunciated the 't' in "WHAT HAPPENED."

And she replies in a breathy way, like a jogger sounds when they're jogging, "H-h-h-h I h-h-h-h-h-h h-h-h-h-hurt h-h-h-h-h-h-h my-hhh-h-h-h fo-h-h-ooo-h-h-ttt h-h-h-h-h." (translated: I hurt my foot.)

You observe her with a keen eye and notice that the foot she's huffing about would have to include at least one of the two feet she's bouncing wildly on.

Because you forgot that stand up comedy usually has some form of sense and sanity to it, and you really don't want to go crazy from all the excitement your children cause in your life, you find yourself laughing hysterically that your child would choose to express her pain in such an energetic and healthy way. While using the banged up, chopped off foot to propel her into the air.
Flexibility gives you the ability to accept the comedy of the situation as you turn to go back inside the house while your banged-up-foot-child bounces off the porch and down the steps, nursing what she believes to be a badly hurt foot. While jumping on it.

Flexibility forces you to see the obvious when all you notice is everything that's not there. Like when your son drills you about the moon as if he thinks you're some scientist or something. He begins a breathless string of questions on if the moon could crush the house and what would happen if you shot the moon and does the moon roll and how does the moon just stay up in the sky and does it just 'stick' there and how big is the moon and can you shoot the moon, can you?

Flexibility helps you see that your child is not a mad scientist even if he has every indication of becoming one.

Flexibility helps you understand the deep and vast brain behind the erratic and usually irrelevant questions.

Flexibility helps you embrace the opportunity of gazing lovingly into the pool of dark brown eyes that look up to you and sincerely believe with all their heart that you, of all people, are the wealth of knowledge they've been searching for all of their 5 little years of life.

Flexibility is such a great tool to carry through life and something everyone should get a PHD on. An education in Flexibility would give great resume references because everyone would want to hire the Flexibility person.

But, I would learn that Flexibility forces you to understand that you will probably never be able to take a class on Flexibility because there is no class out there devoted primarily to the topic of Flexibility. Flexibility is just too hard to teach. Frankly, flexibility does not fit in a box or a text book. It's just too flexible to do so.

But by accepting this hard, cruel fact, I am proving my understanding of Flexibility.

And I'm flexible enough to accept that I will never get an education on the #1 important ingredient for life: Flexibility.

When Life Changes, God Doesn't

It all started the day we... well, I'm not sure exactly which day that was, come to think of it. Hmm. It must've been a big day though because it sure started a lot of stuff.

Then again, maybe it wasn't a big day. Maybe it was just a normal day with nothing out of the ordinary happening. Funny thing how it is when you sit down and look back at life and remember an era filled with bumps and bangs and bruises but yet you realize you can never pin it back to a beginning. A turning point. Or even a period at the end of a sentence.

Life just changed. Just like that.

But then you remember back to events that took place. Events that turned out to be individual steps on a certain stairway in life. And as each event unfolded, a new step was created where you found your life at. Then suddenly, the stairway ends and just like that, an era has ended. Life goes on and you go with it.

I know I'm speaking pathetic poetic and mysterious but certainly, there has GOT to be a good reason why I haven't updated for a month or two, right?

On a side note, I have completely recovered from Mono, hosted company ever since my recovery, put in a garden, reorganized my house, planted flowers, worked on landscaping, took a 22 hour round trip, saw Lake Michigan and watched my husband turn another year older. Not to mention a few other activities.

It's been a good year but not unmixed with sorrow. Realities of religion and the grace of Christ have been two of our main focuses, the latter more than the former. God gently leads His dear children along and we have vividly seen His hand leading those He calls His own.

To summarize the happenings of the last two months, is hard to do in a nutshell. And hard (if not unwise) to do on the world wide web. It's kinda like ripping a scab off your skin and saying, "Okay everybody, have at it!"

A few of you have wondered what's happened with my blog and why I haven't updated for so long. I am open for any dialogue or discussion done privately as for the reasons I've been away for so long. My blog isn't about personal details though (besides Alex chasing the cat with forks, etc.).

Oh, and in case I didn't convey this right, there was never any intention on NOT blogging nor do I plan to quit blogging in the future. My mind was just too full of other things to be able to digest anything worth typing out on blogger.com. It would've read something like this: ";lkj iowop ijhen ipfld polk dpoks..." A pile of used kleenex probably would've sat on my desk next to the computer on one side and the shelf in front of my head would've had a head shaped indentation where my head had specifically been put a time or two (or three). A browser window for a Bible study reference site would've been tabbed to bloggers tab while I blogged and I would've copied and pasted most of the Bible into my blog (I would've left out the battle scenes in the Old Testament. And the genealogies.) Oh and coffee... there would've been tanks of coffee fueling me on. By the way, if anyone wonders what Bible site is the easiest to navigate when you're studying half the New Testament at once, www.biblegateway.com is worth your look. I've been at that site in the last few weeks more than I've been to my bed.

I am excited about life. About God. About the gospel. There is peace and calm in my life where that had been confusion and strife. I am hopeful about the future. For the first time in a long time, the future looks bright and certain.

And I've experienced the promise of John 10:10: "Jesus said, "the thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly."

Do YOU know Jesus meant that verse when He said it?

Confessions of a Mom with Mono

Mono is a funny sounding name for a virus that I've done very little research on. I'm not sure if I'm a) scared to find out what I'd read or b) would feel helpless once I did know more or c) just too tired to read online for that long. For whatever reason, I'm not well read up on the topic.

But, I have lived, breathed, slept and sweated a mono-type virus for the past 3 weeks so I think that's why I'm self certifying myself to write these Confessions.

Mono attacks the immune system (I do know that) but how and why, is unknown to most (if not all) people. I have never been in contact with someone who has a virus like mine nor do I randomly drink out of random cups of random people's drinks when I'm randomly in public. I don't even drink out of public drinking fountains, for that matter. Mono is typically spread through saliva so you tell me how I got mono if I haven't been kissing random people or drinking out of random cups.

Mono has a constant fever pattern that is physically draining although the pattern is inconsistent. Some days I wake up sick; other days I wake up well for a couple hours. Some days my fever is only 99; other days I have a hard time keeping it away from 102. Coupled with that is extreme fatigue, a pounding head ache, frequent dizziness and growing physical weakness that seems to get worse every day.

Opening the fridge takes effort. Screwing lids into place is hard. Locking doors is a strain. Rolling over in bed is a huge job. Walking hurts, even slowly. Talking is draining -- my voice takes muscles I don't have. I feel so weak.

Little accomplishments are noticed though -- like tonight I made mac and cheese for supper and felt like the world's best gourmet cook. And I did it all while the ibuprofen I took 8 hours before was wearing off. I even washed the pans. But, even though it seems like success, that's physically exhausting to the point of it not being worth it. I pretty much just have to go to bed after that.

Mono also attacks your brain (I do know that from personal experience). Everything is a big deal and either leaves a Mom with Mono in tears or slumped in a dark hole of depression or both. Like at night when my husband puts the kids to bed, as soon as everyone walks out of the room, I burst into tears mourning the passing of another day in my kid's life that I didn't make any worthy investment in. The guilt. The fear. The sadness. The loneliness for a fun family night. It's a heavy load. And the brain power it takes to process these feelings has completely deserted me.

Spiraling into a whirlwind of what I'm sure are pointless fears, I find myself growing steadily lower. And then I start worrying about things like if I'm pregnant or not and finally after worrying about it for 2 days, I breathlessly take a test. I've never prayed so hard that the double lines would not appear. Shoving the memory of the frequent 102 fevers into the back of my head, I wait anxiously, telling God, "No baby should have to go through this! No baby should have to go through this!" I have never been so relieved after finding a negative test result. That to me was actually a little confirmation that God is still good and does know what's best for me. And for my children.

Rain or shine, the weather doesn't really effect a Mom with Mono. It's all alike to her. It all seems grey and gloomy. Although sunshine does feel good on a warm day, the brightness of the sun and the blue sky seem insignificant to the dark day it feels inside a Mom with Mono: if you can't enjoy it with your family, what's the point?

Resting and drinking fluids are easy to do for mono victims. I am so thirsty and so tired and could drink all the time and sleep forever. Of course you can't rest much when you drink a lot so the balance is usually soon found when dealing with mono.

And then come the aches and pains of laying in bed for so many hours out of a day. It feels like slats or springs or hard object are protruding from my pillow-top mattress and needles are sticking in my feet. So angling my legs in a different direction, I find temporary relief only to learn a little later that both feet are sleeping. If I google mono-type viruses, I'll find out if bad circulation goes with the virus. Otherwise, I see now how people get bed sores from being in bed for long periods of time.

It may be recommended to exercise which is something that would feel good to do in this warm, spring air. Yet even when I feel like doing it, and then do it, I spike a fever and suffer for several days, slowly getting back to the point I was before I exerted myself. Rest and relaxation are all a person with mono can do... poor circulation or not.

And finally, remembering that even though I may be helpless to care for myself, helpless to care for my children and helpless to care for my husband, God is not helpless to care for me AND all I care about. I confess thankfully that I am finding moment-by-moment comfort in that.

Disclaimer: I do know that I do NOT have the Epstein Barr Virus Mono and there is a bit of a difference between that and what the doctor diagnosed me with: a Mono-type virus. From what I understand, my spleen is not effected like it would be with the "main" mono virus which is caused by the Epstein Barr Virus.

Home Education: A Lifestyle of Learning (part 1)

"So are you going to home school or send your kids to school?" a question we are often asked as parents of pre-school children.

"Oh definitely home school," is the conditioned response that I say, wondering how there could be a different option. Then I remember that there are local private schools and even small town public schools both of which are ready options to our family.

Yet, homeschooling is the only option for us. The only choice we'd pick. Ever. It only seems natural that we would go that way, especially since both Toby and I are home school graduates. But, that's not the reason why we home school.

I love the idea of homeschooling. The opportunity to teach my kids to read, to count, to write, to... you get the idea. So when people ask me if we'll home school or not, I wonder what part about us doesn't have the "we're home schoolers" sign on it.

Then it dawned on me that according to our culture, home schoolers seem to have a "stereotype" personality and pre-schoolers don't typically exhibit that demeanor so therefore, they are exempt from the "geeky home schoolers" group and held up on a diving board that just may give them the luck of jumping into the public school education opportunity.

But nope, our kids are ready to launch into the vast orbit of home education. An education custom fit to each child based on personality, learning style and life goals. An education not limited to work books, text books or even a deluxe curriculum. An education uninfluenced by peer pressure, bullies and gym style sports.

People assume that the reason home schoolers home school is because they're afraid of blending their kids into a public social life. They want to shelter and isolate their kids. Protect their offspring from society. That is not our purpose at all. Our kids will have a social setting complete with friends their age, the option of organized sports and music lessons and the opportunity to make new friends all the time. Friends, games and "real" life are not found in a classroom: they're found in life that's not confined to an age group. Or a school grade. Or a social status.

And after a weekend attending a local home school conference, I feel renewed in a purpose, zeal and direction in homeschooling. In a handful of blog posts coming soon, I hope to capture a few of the highlights both Toby and I experienced at the conference.

Leading up to the conference, I felt overwhelmed. I knew there would be a huge number of booths to visit. Curriculum to peruse. Work books to pick out. Seminars to hear. So many things to take in. A big part of me was actually nervous to go. "How will I know what curriculum to pick?" was my biggest question. And the question that I wanted so desperately to answer because I KNEW that would be the final end to our pre-homeschooling journey.

Guess what? I left without having that question answered. And ironically enough, it's the last question on my mind now. Why? Because the purpose we have as a homeschooling family isn't going to be found in a work book. Or a curriculum. Or an answer key. Those things are some of the tools to bring the end result of education but they're not the only thing. I was inspired by this quote:

"Never let schooling interfere with your education." (Mark Twain)

Our goals in home educating our kids are summed up in a 3 step philosophy that was described by the director of Institute for Excellence in Writing, Andrew Pudewa, during one of the seminars:

:: Character
:: Knowledge
:: Skills

These three things are not taught in a work book. Or even in the best curriculum. They are taught in a balanced approach to education. Without character, knowledge and skills are futile. Without knowledge, character and skills are not retained. And without skills, character and knowledge are not communicated accurately. Here again, work books and curriculum can help to bring the results of a Character-Knowledge-Skills education but they are not the one and only option. Nor do they guarantee success in education.

The public school system has set up a status quo that all children from the ages of 6-17 must comply to. This concept is confined to a "conveyor belt education." And once a kid lags behind or even falls off the conveyor belt, he is pushed back until he can catch up.

Equally damaging, if a kid happens to go faster than the conveyor belt allows him to, he is thwarted and limited in his learning. He can't reach his full potential as an individual.

Public school offers a lot. They offer a one-size-fits-all learning experience that doesn't address who the kids are as an individual. The example was given that a 10 year old automatically has the number 4 on all his work books. If he can't keep up with the studies in his book, he gets behind. Behind what?! Work books are notorious to being too slow for a child. That results in a bored kid who is learning a fraction of what he could be learning. A work book can also be too fast for a child which of course produces a frustrated kid who hates school.

Many home school parents think that if they can create a learning environment at home comparable to their own schooling experience they had in a classroom, their kids will feel like school is important. That school is fun. That school is separate from mundane home life. Obviously, it is very hard to not do to our kids what was done to many of us who were raised in public or private school. We think an education is found in a work book and as long as our kids complete their work books, pass their tests and never lag behind other kids their age, they are successful home school kids.

A speaker (Andrew Pudewa) at the home school conference (whom I have quoted subtly several times in this blog already and who is MUST to listen to if he's ever in your area) has a degree in teaching. His concept and knowledge of the English language is above average. But, he admits himself that his "greatest handicap is his own education."

It was freeing to listen to his Two Step program for home school parents that get frustrated and wonder if they have the option of sending their kids to school. Parents can take this test before they make the decision to put their kids on the bus:

1:: Read all the text books your child would learn

2:: Sit through one day of class and observe the setting, teaching style and potential teacher and classmates

If you can approve of steps 1-2, you are ready to send your kids to public school.

Though private Christian schools are usually seen as a better option than public school, they still have adapted the one-size-fits-all methodology of teaching. The Conveyor Belt method is commonly used in these classroom settings as well. Competition is the driving force of our children's education. Many home schoolers have also taken this approach to educating their kids at home and hope to come up with different and more positive results than the public and private school settings. We can't do the same thing and expect different results.

So, answering the "will you home school or send your kids to school" question is an easy question to answer. It demands a yes-or-no type answer which is quite easy to give. But then there's the next question: "Why don't you send your kids to a good Christian school?" Up until this past weekend this was a little harder for me to articulate. Now I have the answer,

"Sometimes doing a good thing is the enemy of doing the best thing."

And that's why we'll home school.

Time Stops For No Man

Not to stay in the category of morbidity and death, but I've been thinking about the implications of TIME. No matter what happens, what changes, what comes and what leaves, time goes on. And on. Unmolested by weather, politics, economy, love, sadness, happiness, suffering... time stops for no man.

The assurance of God and the faithfulness of His promise of life eternal is a concept I find refreshing to re-grasp. Even though time's heartless brutality marches past us undaunted by our lack of desire to go on in life after tragedy strikes, God's tender love is that much more present and compassionate.

Just a random thought I had that seemed to appear in this post.

In an attempt to clean out my draft bin again, I ran across a few unfinished posts. So, I've wrapped a few of those up, polished a couple others off and updated some random topics I've thought of over the past several months.

I am also hoping to re-institute the ongoing saga of "Landon Lines, Janae Jems" but may end up re-using a few of their quips in the coming post because I was unsure about the publishing status of a few of them. After this next week, everything should be fresh and new once again.

Also, if any readers make comments or questions in the comment box, I hope to answer those publicly on my blog in the future. Maybe do a monthly/weekly type "Q & A" post. So, let the comments begin.

No guarantees on the consistency of my upcoming blogging. I seem to have a bad case of writer's block right now. Hopefully I'll find a cure-all that will last for more than a couple weeks and will have a few more blogging moments than I've had in recent weeks.

Now, back to regular posting...

Procrastinators Unite

I won't even try to capture a nostalgic committed-to-change New Years Resolution spirit right now. I know it's the first post on my blog this year and the unwritten rule is that all first posts in the New Year must emphasis the importance of what will change in the new year, etc. I am resisting the trend.

Honestly folks, since when are NYR's (figure that out) anything to talk about? All we do is TALK about them. What's the point of talking about something you only talk about? Why not discuss the things you actually DO.

It dawned on me today that people who wait until January 1 of whatever respective year they're in to "start over" or make a fresh start on something, are really procrastinators. That's the hard core truth, I know. (And it takes one to know one.)

Not to totally desert you in your defeated state of mind as you attempt to grasp the truth of what I just said, I have hope: you CAN start over today, tomorrow, the next day or even next week. It doesn't HAVE to be the beginning of a new year. I know, isn't that amazing news?

So, go get on that diet you've been talking of trying for the last several months. Start that hobby you've been threatening your loved ones with. Make a change in your coffee drinking habits. Whatever it is you want to start over or begin with or make an end to, do it now. Don't wait until next year.

OH, and if you get it down pat but fail tomorrow, don't worry: each morning is a fresh start. A new beginning. You don't have to wait until January 1 2010 to attempt it again.

If you insist on making me admit that I have a NYR, then fine. Here it is: I'm taking on God's perspective in 2009. He starts over every morning. He gives a new beginning. A new abundance of mercy.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness..."

Lamentations 3:22-23

A fresh beginning on January 1 is always fun. But it doesn't usually last long into the week month year. I'm taking all my new endeavors one day at a time. That's what God does with me and I think He has the right idea.

Since God relentlessly does that for me, than I will always have hope to start that new menu. That efficient laundry schedule. That coupon clipping craze. That better-use-of-her-time planner. That love-her-crazy-adorable-kids more. That be a better wife idea.

My goal this year is that in everything I set out to do (that I end up failing in), the next day will bring all the hope I need to start over. I won't have to wait until the next January 1st.

And that's my New Years Resolution.

Keeping Perspective on Motherhood

So much of my day, my life, my world, revolves around mundane busy-ness. Like unfinished laundry, messy house, smelly messes, naughty kids, tiredness, unfinished projects, etc.

But, when I think about the family who's blog I visited that had just lost their second child a few months ago and are now close to losing their first daughter due to pregnancy complications, I really don't have it bad. I mean, I'm living the dream that expecting mom has: to be a busy wife and happy mother of children.

I read stories about families who have genetic problems. All their future children are at a high risk of developing health problems that will likely not allow them to survive infancy. I know that mom would give anything to have toys strewn all over her house, thanks to the fact that she has a house full of healthy children. Instead, she brings flowers to a grave while I bring a hungry baby to a high chair.

What about the mom just down the street that lost her son a couple months ago to a tragic car accident? She worked hard to bring him through infancy and then childhood and he was just working on getting his driver's license. Now he's dead. She would give anything to have extra laundry, a full school schedule and the opportunity to wrap her entire existence around her boy. But, it's over because he's gone.

Does it really matter that I have a never ending pile of laundry? That my house never stays clean? That I no longer get one meal done and it's time to plan another? That I have lists of shopping to do but no way to get out of the house because of my kids? No. It doesn't matter. As long as I keep my perspective and remember that I will experience this season in my life and my children's lives for a very short time.

And then it'll be over and I'd give all the world to have them little again. To have that messy house again. To wash the dirty jeans of that kid who was told to stay out of the mud. To wash the sticky face of the girl that was told to stay out of the candy. To vacuum handfuls of cracker crumbs from the van. To comfort that wailing baby. I'll wonder how I ever lost perspective while living the life I always dreamed of living.

But, it's not over. I am living that life. And I'm going to enjoy the reality of each one of those dreams. Crumbs, mud and tears will never daunt me. They are only the dross of the gold hidden deep within each one of the children I call my own.

And those are little things compared to the reality of the dream I'm living called, motherhood. When I look back in time, I don't want to see the distractions of life; I want to see a happy child, a joyful mom and a loving home. Yet in the busy-ness of life, I never want to lose focus on the fact that we're making those memories today.

"Time doth softly sweetly glide, when there's love at home!"

The Technicalization of Civilization

I'm beginning to think that with all the mumble jumble computer talk, my toddlers really aren't that far off from reaching the success of having learned the English language.

Take Google for instance. What a funny name. It's like what you say to a baby, "Goo-goo-ga-ga..." (or maybe that's supposed to be what they say to you.)

Or a nano. I don't have one of these. I have never downloaded one of these. I don't listen to one of these. I have never seen one of these. What is a nano?

Or Blog, even. When I first heard the word 'blog' I thought it referred to some marshy styled website that computer savvy people had.

Or Widget. That is so far from anything English, I can't compare it's sound to anything familiar. Except for a witch crossed with a gadget maybe.

Or Digsby. What a name. And how do you pronounce it? Dig-z-by or Dig-z-bee?? And how on earth does it's name indicate at all what it's definition might be?

Or Digg This. What is this?? Some universal gang-banger-street-talk-made-trendy because a guy in a suit and tie certified the term 'digg it' and made it into a universal hyperlink found on pretty much every web page. If you say it fast, it sounds like a bad word. I just don't dig 'digg it.'

Then there's the iPod. The problem I see with the iPod is that it's spelled funny. When I was a kid in school, we were taught to capitalize the FIRST letter of every word, not the second letter. It should really be spelled Ipod. There.

Or Facebook??? The very thing I teach my kids NOT to do... "Don't throw that book in your brother's face!" But Mom! YOU have a 'Facebook.' (Okay, that was lame...)

Really, Facebook has more weird terms than a person could ever come up with. It's like they must've taken a whole basket full of goodies to a little kid and said, "Kiddo, what do you call this thing?" and then the first sounds that came out of the kid's mouth, were made into Facebook lingo.

Okay, so you can 'poke' people. You can throw sheep at them. You can wrap them in bubble wrap. You can send them 'flair.' You can 'tag' them in pictures. You can comment on their status message. Try explaining to someone that doesn't have Facebook what a status message is and why anyone would need to comment on it. Getting updates on your news feed (on Facebook, of course) that your friends who had a wedding 10 years ago are "now married" is a huge relief. I guess because Facebook makes it look "official" after all these years, it's somewhat of a comic relief.

And the best thing about Facebook is that you can even write on people's wall. It's like a whole society committing themselves to the greatest form of illegal communication: graffiti. But, it's all legal of course.

Moving out of the topic of Facebook, the internet (and just the computer in general) still has tons of things to consider. Even simple things like 'docking a page.' Is that the same as docking a boat? Or are they referring to a medical type of thing as in "doctoring?" Or maybe it's something entirely different.

And does anybody know what AIM actually stands for? Even though I can't remember what it stands for, the letters AIM automatically make me think of "aiming" an instant message at a friend. And of course that is the purpose of AIM: instant messaging people. But the acronyms I don't know their definition for sure. Does the "A" stand for "automated," the "I" for "instant" and the "M" for "message?"

Oh and 'Google Talk' does not mean you sit and talk googly. It's a phone system connected via internet and you use your computer's built in speakers and microphone in which to communicate with people. It's like a computer based speaker phone system. And you can talk about whatever you want, not just goo-goo-ga-ga stuff.

Same goes for 'Google Chat' but of course you must not forget that in the twenty-first-century, "chat" indicates a type of communication done with typing, not an audible voice type of communication. Thankfully, you CAN chat about anything, not just goo-goo stuff... though I know the name is confusing: Google Chat.

Blogger has it's own unique terms as well. Does anybody know what all a blogger "Dashboard" is capable of? One little tip: it does not have a steering wheel so don't be disappointed when you can't find one.

Then there's blogger "Feeds" but don't expect it to ever have chili. Or anything else pertaining to physical sustenance.

About the time you think you have a basic grasp on modern internet lingo, terminology and other such technical details, don't get too comfy: in our day and age, a thing like a tinyurl can definitely shorten a link but man, how on earth does that make sense? What is the point?

I think there can come a point where we technicalize (how's that for a techy-made-up word?) everything to the point that we must simplify in order to retain pertinent information. But then when we do that, it only complicates the situation even more because ultimately, we must add more information in order to keep what we have and yet change it to something more "simple."

Seriously, I shouldn't be talking. Do you know how many times I have had to look up my blog address just to make sure I was spelling "Coeur d' Court" right?

Yeah, all I can say is that I'm thankful for my favorites list and a hard drive that works as long as my computer is on.

Oh, and the reason I'm not replacing my new made up word "technicalize" to something more technically accurate in spelling is because the following words were also not accepted by my spell check:

Nano.
Disby.
Digg.
Facebook.
iPod.
Tiny Url.
Coeur.
internet.

How pathetic is it when my internet based spell check doesn't even know it's own component's correct spelling? So, maybe technicalize really IS a word...?

When a 'Working Sign' Would Be Nice

Yesterday I was driving down a vacant gravel road and while going through a vacant gravel intersection, I noticed down another vacant gravel road, a sign.

Yes, a sign.

It wasn't a sign from God either but an actual, literal sign.

I saw no people. Or trucks. Or any other signs. Basically, that vacant gravel road seemed every bit as empty as vacant can be and every bit as gravelly as gravel can be.

But the sign indicated otherwise.

The sign said: Men Working.

Now, I never know what to do when I see a sign like that.

Instinctively I look to see what kind of work the men are doing. And then when I look beyond the sign and see men working, I want to say, "Well duh, even a woman can see he's working without the sign informing her of that."

Then I look at the sign and wonder if I'm supposed to stand reverently, put my hand over my heart and sing the National Anthem.

Or do I say a prayer?

Do I stop my vehicle and observe a moment of silence?

Do I tread reverently past the working men with a look of admiration on my face?

Am I supposed to honk and cheer and wave out my open window while praising the working men.... "Good job! Keep it up! It's lookin' great!!"

Maybe the sign is actually printed in braille as well so that blind people driving by that can't see the men working, will know they actually are because the sign will tell them that.

Or maybe the sign is indicating that the men are indeed working and summarizes this message:

In case there is any doubt in any one person's mind about the piles of dirt, large construction equipment, and the dirty orange hard hats bobbing around the vicinity of the construction site, these men are in deed and in fact WORKING; they aren't just playing with dirt.

Or better yet, maybe it's because men have such a one track mind that they can't work AND watch for traffic at the same time. So basically a "Men Working" sign is similar to a "Children at Play" sign. It's your responsibility not to run over any of the Men Working.

Perhaps because the men took so long to get to the job, they put the sign up so that anyone that was pressuring them to get the job done will see they don't need to say anymore. The Men are Working. Finally. And the sign says that.

Maybe yesterday was actually an indication that the men were working on getting the work done but hadn't shown up yet. Kinda like a yeah-we'll-be-right-on-it-so-here's-a-sign-to-prove-that and then you can quit bugging them and wondering if that road will ever be completed.

And then I had to count how many times I've seen a "Women Working" sign. I couldn't even use one finger and I had 10 waiting to be counted. Is it because women never work? That men are doing all the work? That would be pathetic to make the men do all our work, even if they did get to use a sign while they worked.

It suddenly dawned on me that women work too. It's not that they work harder than men or that men work harder then the women either. They both just do their jobs.

So, I decided to patten a "Women Working" sign for all the hard working women I know. Next time you wash dishes, do laundry, clean your house, sweep the front porch, paint a room, make a meal or fill the van with gas, you can set out your sign.

Because I mean really, men are supposed to build roads and do their work; women are supposed to do all their jobs too. But, why don't women get any signs?

If you tell me it's because men use dangerous equipment and powerful tools, I'll ask * you what a women does that isn't dangerous.

To prove my point, the little * above indicates the exact time that my baby dropped a stack of Corelle bowls on his bare little feet and had shattered glass spread in a vicinity 5 feet around him. His mother (a woman) bravely dove barefoot into the midst of the shards and rescued the curious little boy from the slivers of pain intending to inject their sharpness into the fatness of his tender feet.

Tell me what isn't dangerous about that.

And the worse part is, the whole time that mother cleaned up the mess and used loud equipment to suck up the barbed needles embedded in the carpet, she also made sure the other children were safe. Not only was she doing a disaster relief project but she was also protecting the citizens in the destruction zone. While enforcing the law, she also defended the innocent that had actually caused the predicament of the day.

And, of course, there were no signs. No tangible pieces of proof that decreed loud and clear that "Women Working" was going on.

Then again, women are usually too busy and too distracted too responsible to make a point to get a sign out, set it up and let everyone read it while they work. They usually just get the job done and wish they had a sign that proved they were working and actually don't even think about a sign. Because, in the time it would take to get a sign out and set it up where everyone could read it, she'd first have to teach the kids what the letters "W-o-m-e-n-W-o-r-k-i-n-g" sounds like and how to read it and give the proper definition of what it means. By the time that was done, it would be time to clean up another disaster start another project.

So, if men have time to set up "Men Working" signs, then maybe they aren't quite as busy as women? And maybe they know that but they don't want the women to feel unequal with them so they compensate for the uneven balance by putting up a sign.

Then again, maybe OSHA mandates it and the reason they don't mandate it in my house is because this still is the land of the free and the home of the brave mothers who walk on shards of glass in order to rescue innocent children.

But, I'm still thinking of making that sign...

Mid-life Crisis

For the sake of the readers that haven't given up on my blog, this is an update to let you know that a blog post will be coming soon.

I have been in a whirlwind of activity life lately and have finally realized that life is just that: a whirlwind. I need to quit calling this lifestyle of activity I live anything else besides life.

At the beginning of the month, I got a phone call from my sister saying that she was bored and having a strange urge. She just felt like sitting in her car for 10 hours all by herself and thought she'd make it productive by actually driving that entire time. We both thought and thought of a location that would just happen to be all of 10 hours from where her car was sitting and ironically, just like sisters do, unanimously came up at the same time with the same idea that she should come to our house. Voila.

Seriously, she was all alone with no husband (he had to go to training in another state) and wanted to replace that loneliness with quality time with her niece and nephews. We were very happy to accommodate her plans of visiting us although we almost said no because we knew it would be sad to see her go.

We had so much fun together. I often marvel at how well siblings connect throughout childhood and before marriage but I was even more amazed at how strong that connection stays even after one or both leave home and marry far and distant men. (So if any of you are holding out on getting married for this reason, I have proof that you really don't need to worry about sibling relationships. Now, go get married.)

One day Britt and I were playing a duet on the piano that we had never played together before. It was a rather bouncy rendition of Yankee Doodle, a song I had never played until Britt was plunking it out that day and making me follow suit. As we jammed along, suddenly at the same time and just after the line about the macaroni in his hat, we both got the urge to modulate the key up a half a step. Without missing a beat (or saying a word), we both suddenly, without warning, landed on the key of D. We do stuff like that all the time. It's almost freaky.

My husband thinks it's weird too and gets uncomfortable when we do freaky things like that. I think he just wants in the loop he just wants to concentrate on the book he's reading instead of having to hear us giggling uncontrollably every time we share a look, stay speechless and bust out laughing.

So, as you can see, I have been rather distracted and unable to blog. A blog post will be coming soon though since I do have a lot on my mind.

Until this blog is updated, another reason why I haven't posted lately is because I think I am going through a mid-life crisis. Now, how's that for an excuse for not blogging? I bet you've never heard that one before. (I should really copyright that one.)

If you've gone through a mid-life crisis, you would know how complicated and complex deep thoughts in the back of a mid-life crisis brain can be. There is just so much there to be sorted out that I'm thinking about calling for a cease fire. It can get rather exhausting to have one deep thought after another fire away in your head. It's like my brain has set up a firing range with a target on one end and several cases of bullets and a loud gun on the other. I'm not quite sure what kind of gun it is so when I get that figured out, I'll let you know. Regardless of the gun's make and model, it definitely has a precise and accurate barrel because it keeps hitting the bull's eye. And it's really loud.

I am not a public speaker at all so to write my whole heart out to all of you right now, is just not anywhere in my mental capability. Especially considering how much of my brain is being taken up as a target right now. And also because I do not know all who read my blog or where they're at in life and how or if they'll understand true honesty and forthrightness.

Truth is, I may actually know them but don't know they're reading here. I have noticed that often people flee the truth and hold on to ideals and then are shocked when you finally make it clear to them what the truth really is. And I don't like to find out after the fact that what I said was just too honest and open for someone to handle.

Yesterday in Church, a part in the sermon jumped out at me in the midst of juggling two very squirmy toddlers. The preacher was reading about the armour of God. My heart latched on to the part about truth. "Loins girded about with truth." It dawned on me just then that truth must be very important since the only thing girding and protecting the loins of a soldier of Christ is, truth.

But, why do people constantly shy away from the truth and instead grasp ideals, traditions, desires and facades?

Besides publicly bearing my soul here, another option would be to sit down and talk to each one of you individually. That sounds a lot more appealing. But, since I can't do that with everyone here because I don't know everyone that reads this and it's physcially impossible to make a point to talk to someone that you don't even know exists, I'll sort my thoughts, collect my thinking and endeavor to get to the bottom of the pile of bullets yet to be shot at that target.

It seems as though what makes this a "crisis" is the fact that it's like a "at a cross roads" experience of life. Yet at the same time, I could drop the gun, walk away from the firing range and send am atom bomb in to wipe out the thoughts that seem to have created the world that is my brain. That may be an easy way out actually and it is quite tempting. But, to do that would mean I gave in and gave up. I would essentially cease to think.

And that would be a tragedy.

So, I said all that to say I plan to update my blog soon. Which I guess by saying that here on my blog right now, I am basically doing NOW what I said I would do: update my blog.

I guess this blog now has a new post.

Life Begins At Conception, or does it?

Ethical and moral issues are discussions most of us prefer to avoid. Morality and ethics have turned into "an-every-man-for-himself" kind of thing so it gives us greater reason to not step on toes when we promote or discourage certain issues. Especially when we have a faceless audience like blog readers. It is so much easier and more comfortable to keep silent.

But, I am using the vantage point I have here and breaking the status-quo of "every-man-for-himself" and taking it upon myself to speak the truth. I am really not concerned as to whether everyone that reads this will agree with me. Why? Because I believe that there is a tragedy happening day after day and I am doing nothing about it. Sometimes well meaning people just don't know the truth on matters that tend to be kept silent and I don't want to be guilty of keeping silent while knowing the truth about contraceptives and conception.

It may be shocking but there is a huge moral issue in many ultra-conservative people, the general public and lots of people in-be-tween. I'm not talking about people leaving their spouse to go sleep with another or about husbands having multiple wives. I am talking about moms destroying the life of their unborn. Whether it's at 9 days old or 9 months old, it doesn't matter. It's still a life. It's still a baby. And whether it's intentionally or unintentionally, it doesn't matter either.

Through research and discussions with medical doctors, I have learned the truth on something that is widely practiced but yet highly misunderstood.

First of all, the word "contraception" means that conception ALONE is stopped -- the egg is never fertilized. Stopping conception before it starts does not kill life. Hormonal Contraception (which it shouldn't be called anyway since it doesn't primarily impeded conception so therefore should not be called a contraceptive) has the ability and hormones of stopping the implantation of a fertilized egg(s) after it has been, unfortunately, conceived.

The bottom line is that life begins at conception and only God is the Giver and Taker of life. It doesn't matter if your doctor says a birth control is "safe" in supporting life or that a pill won't kill your baby; what your doctor doesn't tell you (unless you ask like I did) is this:

There are two basic kinds of hormonal birth control pills: (1) the combination pill which is made up of two synthetic hormones (estrogen and progestin) and (2) the progestin-only pill (sometimes called the minipill). The synthetic estrogen in the combination pill works to prevent the ovaries from releasing an egg. If no egg is released, there is nothing to be fertilized by sperm and the woman cannot get pregnant. In addition, the synthetic estrogen works by suppressing the body's normal hormonal pattern (which involves one egg being developed per menstrual cycle and released for possible fertilization).

The synthetic progestin (present in both types of pills) works to:

thicken the cervical mucus, which hinders the movement of sperm,

inhibit the egg's ability to travel through the fallopian tubes,

partially suppress the sperm's ability to unite with (and thereby fertilize) the egg, and

alter the uterine lining so (in the event that an egg is released and fertilized) the egg will likely not be able to implant into the uterine wall. (A fertilized egg would then be discharged with the rest of the menstrual blood.)

(found at GoAskAlice.com)

Not wanting to believe what "Alice" is informing in the above piece of research, I separately googled several different popular contraceptives commonly used and approved by the safety standards of the FDA and AMA and found her advice to be true for:

The Pill

The Mini Pill

The Nuva Ring

The Mirena IUD

The Patch

As you will find from the links above, the primary functions of all those methods is to prevent sperm from penetrating the cervix and to also disable ovulation. Now, these two functions are not moral and ethical issues -- human life is not being destroyed when contraception is used ONLY to impede conception. We all can hope that's all that is happening in each prevented pregnancy but the chance of that is highly unlikely and quite risky if you're banking a human life on it.

The fact that the lining of the mother's uterus is being changed to not accept a conceived egg is the function of these methods that makes hormone birth controls a non-option for a pro-life person. Why? Because life begins at conception.

To make the safest, warmest and most life sustaining place on earth for a new brand new life a habitation of destruction and rejection, is a tragedy. And worse yet, this tragedy is sitting in many Christian homes and churches today.

I have heard it said so many times by many well meaning people..."This new birth control method (insert name here) I'm using doesn't kill the baby; I asked my doctor and he said no!"

Of course your doctor is going to say no. A woman is unable to CARRY that pregnancy because the birth control her doctor gave her made it physically impossible to KEEP that baby that only had the chance to grow for short time. The baby is gone before the mother or the doctor even knew there was a conceived baby.

I found out myself when I asked my doctor and her doctoring partners. They all informed me in separate consultations that each birth control:

• Kills sperm
• Can effect the cycle, inhibiting ovulation
• Is backed up by making the uterus lining thin therefore insusceptible to a fertilized egg
  

"So if life begins at conception and I believe that it does, than using a birth control that is not supporting a fertilized egg, is wrong?" I asked a doctor.

The doctor nodded her head and said, "Right... if you believe that then you'd have to accept that this is destroying a life."

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For a very informative read, go here and find an in depth look at Contraception And The Christian and the captivating dialogue that takes place when conception occurs and how quickly it is destroyed when hormonal contraceptives are used.

"...If the fertilized egg is not allowed to implant in the uterus, it is being killed. The only difference between this and a later abortion is the size and stage of development of the tiny human offspring."

The writer also includes other information about birth control that does not kill a fertilized egg.

More Pro-Life information given by doctors can be found here. And here.

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Disclaimer: I do not support or endorse other information that may be included on ALL the links above. Please do not abuse the links I listed to support a stand I am not endorsing through this post.

A Question Worth Asking

"What have I to do with thee,
Jesus
thou Son of the Most High God?"

Better Than A Friendship; Deeper Than A Relationship

We all have people in our life that we're related to. We call them "family."

We all have people in our life that we hang out with. We call them "friends."

We all have people in our life that we share all our secrets with. We call them "good friends."

We all have people in our life that we go through hard times with. We call them "faithful friends."

We all have people in our life that love us despite what they know about us. We call them "true friends."

We all have people in our life that live nearby and are available at a moment's notice for anything. We call them "reliable friends."

But when we have people in our life that are all of the above, what do we call them?

You Know You Miss A Good Friend...

when every time you see a vehicle like their's, you do a double take and hope that it's them. Or you wildly chase a white vehicle like their's, hoping that your eyes are seeing things and that the vehicle is really green.

All you can do is hope your friend misses you too and that they know, you really miss them.

Are You Making Today Count?

If you're living today like you'll be here tomorrow, STOP: there is no guarantee.

If you'd need one more minute just to tell someone you love them, quit wasting the minute you have now.

If last night was the last time you'll ever spend with your loved one, does it hold the kind of memory you'd want to be left with? Are you wishing you would've made better use of that time? Appreciated that hug enough to remember it? Relished the experience of just being in their presence? Did you tell them "I love you" before you fell asleep?

When your husband comes home tonight after a hard day's work, act like you thought last night could've been his last. You'll appreciate his smile. Notice his cute tussled hair. And melt in his arms with even the simplest kiss. It could be his last trip home tonight. Make it count. Make some memories.

When your kids got up this morning did you take notice of it enough so that if they don't wake up tomorrow, today's memory has no regrets?

When you put your kids to bed tonight, give them an extra kiss because somebody out there can't kiss their little girl at all. It wasn't planned that way. They didn't know their days were coming to an end the morning of the day she woke up that last time.

And you don't know when your child's last day is. It could be today. Make it count.