A Girl's Best Friend...

Almost eight years ago (it will be June 28), I got married. My husband took this skinny little band of white gold and slipped it on my hand and promised to honor, cherish, care for and love me no matter how good things were, and more importantly, no matter how bad. It was not a fairy tale wedding. I was far from a princess and he was far from a prince on a white horse. We were three months pregnant with our precious son and he was fairly newly divorced, and we were both hauling some serious baggage into the marriage. But still, that ring said it all. He promised. I promised. And so, our life together began.

A couple of weeks before that day, we sat at a restaurant in Kema, TX. He had in his pocket the engagement ring he had selected for me. It was a beautiful antique from the 1920's. It had intricate carving in the setting and displayed a shiny diamond with a rainbow deep down in the pinpoint as if it was on a pedestal. Though the engagement and the ring were just formalities, my friends oooohed and ahhhed. I had arrived. I had "the ring". No one really cared how I got it. I had the holy grail that we all idolized. We believed that the size and worth of the engagement ring symbolized how much our future husband loved us. We believed that the shinier the diamond, the more like Cinderella we would feel. We believed the whole pack of lies we had been told by society. My ring was big and beautiful but I would have traded it for anything if I could just change how I "got it". I couldn't have felt less like Cinderella.

Last weekend, my engagement ring broke. There had been a few times when the intricate carving had split and we had been able to have it soldered, but this time, it split in several areas. Because of it's age and all the soldering, it is not fixable. We can't get a new setting for the diamond immediately. It's just too expensive right now. And I am 100% fine with that. I opened my mouth and words I never would have thought would come from me came out. "Honey, this little band is the one you put on my finger when you promised. It's the real one. I'm content to wear just it for the rest of my life." And I am.

This skinny little band reminds me of the horrible first years that we had set in contrast to how good things are now. It reminds me of the night that I laid in the hospital bed after trying to nurse a screaming baby and my husband laid his hand right over my heart and begged God to please cause the milk to come in and somehow comfort me, and the Holy Spirit did (give me peace, that is -- the milk came a little later) and I was His. It reminds me of Guido helping me shower because I couldn't care for myself after a c-section, and again after I fell and tore my ankle up. It reminds me of the hard lessons he learned through a failed first marriage and he has taught them to me so that we will never see walking away as an option, and hopefully will do better than "just staying in it". It reminds me of the night where I decided to share my deepest secrets with him and I was so ashamed that I made him turn off the lights because I didn't want him to see my face as I shared, and when he turned the lamp back on, he held me and loved me even more. It reminds me of the sweetness that has begun to come in the past few years, as what was once that intense, romantic flame has softened and matured into what I know will always be my best earthly friendship "til death parts us".

I don't want my daughter to do things the way I did. But I do want her to realize that a poor man who can only give her a wedding band but loves Jesus and her and is going to be her prophet, priest, provider and protector is worth more than all the diamonds in the world. I don't know if my finger will ever wear that sparkly gemstone again. But I do know it doesn't mean I've lost my best friend. He lives in the house with me...

What SHOULD We Feel??

I'm going to divert from my "normal" entries of daybooks and fun with my children to share an entry in a devotional book I'm reading. I was talking with a dear friend yesterday who has been struggling. She shared that she felt she shouldn't be struggling, shouldn't be crying. She's sorry for her tears. I was so burdened for her. I was a bit angered also with Satan and American society. Those two things have combined to make so many of us (even those who know Christ and know that it is only through His death and resurrection we live) feel like we should be "self-made", like we should always be strong. "Do it yourself," we say, and, "pick yourself up by your boot straps and go on!" Sometimes, those things are true. We should definitely be able to fend for ourselves on some level -- that is survival.

But emotionally, God made us for relationship and we should NOT be ashamed when we need the love and support of family and friends. I am absolutely appalled by the lack of compassion our society has for those who are grieving -- we are uncomfortable with it and so we just want it to get better fast. And I have news for you: EVERYONE has a breaking point and no one is in a place to decide what that point is for anyone else or how they should feel. I read this devotional entry to my friend and hope that if any of you have hidden tears, it will help you just a bit. This is an entry from Week 1 of Nancy Guthrie's One Year Book of Hope (click the title of the book to read more about Nancy and her writings). The following is all from her. I will not make any comments at the end of it.

Your Tears Matter to God

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. -Psalm 56:8

I remember going up to the cosmetics counter a few weeks after my daughter, Hope, died and asking if the mascara I was considering would run down my face when I cried. The salesperson assured me it wouldn't and then asked with a laugh in her voice, "Are you going to be crying?"

"Yes," I answered, "I am." And I have. I used to rarely cry, but now tears are always close to the surface, just waiting to be released. It is as if there is a broken place inside me where tears are stored. Letting them out has been the only way to release the pressure of the pain.

Along with relief, there is also the uncomfortable loss of control that is a companion to tears, isn't there? Some see tears not only as a loss of control but also as a lack of faith. It is as if the physical manifestation of tears gives evidence of a spiritual deficiency -- that if our faith was big enough or deep enough or developed enough, we simply wouldn't be this sad. It is as if we think our grasp of spiritual realities can erase the hurts of being human. But when you've lost something or someone who is valuable to you, when you have been forced to let go of a dream or live within a nightmare -- that is something to be sad about. So let yourself be sad.

And know that God does not discount or dismiss your tears. They are precious to him because you are precious to him. In fact, when God reveals glimpses of the culmination of human history -- in a future that will fully reveal and be fully worthy of his glory -- he includes, as a centerpiece, this promise in Isaiah 25:8: "The Sovereign Lord will wipe away all tears." Picture in your mind right now the Lord of the universe reaching down to gently and lovingly wipe away your tears. He doesn't ignore them or tell you that if you really had faith you wouldn't cry. He wipes them away. And Revelation 21:4 tells us that not only will he wipe away tears, he will remove all of the sorrow that caused them. God's plan for the future is to destroy forever the evil that has brought you so much pain and then to live forever with you in a place he has lovingly prepared where there will be no more tears.

My Tear Collector, sometimes you seem so far away, it's hard for me to grasp that you are sad with me. Give me the faith to see you now beside me and to see a future in which your hand will wipe away my tears forever.

Digging Deeper
Read Psalm 56. Make a list of what Davide determined to do despite his tears.

Soul Food -- a Tribute

Mom's laughter is some of the best...

My mother stayed home with us. It always seemed natural and normal that she would because that was my world. I am almost positive that knowing Mom was home during an era where women worked because society accepted the bigger, better, "two-income" plan has given me more confidence in being home and even in homeschooling. But I won't discuss those links further. Tonight, I want to talk about what Mom being home meant...

Mom and me...

Playing dress-up. From left to right me, my oldest sister and my middle sister.

Mom being home meant that I was nursed for 18 months. It meant that I was rocked and read to and that I knew who would be picking me up from school. It meant that most of my misbehavior was noticed and disciplined. It meant homemade birthday cakes, and creating wonderful worlds out of cardboard boxes.

I think this is my fourth birthday.

It meant peek-a-boo. It meant many days spent in my own backyard. It meant three sisters who got to play, fight and grow together under their own roof. It meant almost every day of summer spent at the pool with my mother, who wasn't afraid to put on her swimsuit and play! Mom was never afraid to play.

Mom throwing down in the snow storm of 1997 with the best of us...
Even when we were teens and old enough to be embarrassed, she still didn't quit playing with us.
I am so glad.

And... it meant soul food.

The pot of chicken n' dumplings I made earlier today -- Mom's recipe!

My mother is a great cook. She passed it on to me. It takes lots of studying to be a great chef, but to be a great cook, it takes practice, patience, love, good ingredients, good recipes and a little bit of bravery. Mom has all of those. My favorite meal she made was chicken n' dumplings. I made them today, for a friend who has a new baby at home.

Standing in the kitchen, lost in the rhythm of sifting, measuring, cutting and dropping, I could see myself as a little one dragging a chair over from the table to beg for a few raw dumplings. I loved them. I still do but they're just not quite as good as when Mom was the one doing the work -- flour on her shirt, fly-away hair in her face, feet planted firmly on the orange linoleum, dropping dumplings over the furiously boiling stew in her flame orange Le Creuset pot. At 5'1", she seemed a giant to me back then. Now, even though I'm six inches taller, she still seems that big some days.

My husband loves the raw dumplings, now, though the kids aren't huge fans. As he stands at my elbow, waiting for me to hand him a scrap or two while I drop them over the boiling broth, I smile to remember mom shooing me away when she was sure she needed to drop the rest of the dumplings and there were none to spare. "That's all, now. Go on!" And off I would go, to read, to pretend, to dress a doll, to antagonize a sister. You could smell the meal all through the house, for Mom took no short-cuts. Later that night, we would feast. A casserole dish, filled with dumplings and covered in a pie crust, purple hull peas from the garden or put up from the farmer's market, cornbread. We were so richly blessed.

The small pan of dumplings I saved out for my family -- complete w/pie crust.

In my mind, cooking these meals is one of the many blessings of family. It's a time to set the idol of body image to the side (throw those model magazines out, girls!), roll up my sleeves, dig in some flour, and participate in the timeless ritual of women who feed their families. All day long, Ladybird chattered about the "chicklin' dumplin's" she would eat tonight. I scoop a healthy portion onto the plate, add some garden veggies and a piece of cornbread, and I get this:

And this...

Ladybird digging in to her long-awaited dinner...

And it is soooooooooo worth it!

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me.

Bittersweet Symphony -- Carter's First Lost Tooth...

There was a time, little man, when your baby face was so perfect. I could not imagine it's preciousness being changed a bit. The thought that you would eventually grow a tooth saddened me. I did not want it to happen. I wanted to keep you as you were forever...

When the tooth finally did come, you were more precious than ever to me. I know now, that it had nothing to do with how cute you were (and you WERE cute), but the love that was seated deep in my heart for you, that would love you no matter how you looked or what you grew up to be...

Tuesday night, you came up the hall so excited because you had pulled your first tooth. I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with excitement for you because you have wanted this to happen for so long. But I, like so many other mothers to so many other children, have hoped to keep you my baby. I cannot keep you my baby forever, but I know that I will forever be undone by those turtle-brown eyes, and that sun-bright smile, whether the teeth are perfect, or those of Tigger's spookiest "jaggety lantern". You are my beautiful boy. As you grow, I am continually happy for you and encouraged by you, and I continually pray for your growth, but know that it is bittersweet to your mother's heart to watch as with every step you get closer to being a man and to know that some day, you will be someone else's beautiful boy...

"A boy is a magical creature - you can lock him out of your workshop, but you can't lock him out of your heart."
Allan Beck

Just an Update

The main point of this blog is to journal. Mostly, I want to journal about the kids and our homeschooling adventures, but sometimes I will put my wandering thoughts down here. There has been lots of spring fever with the end of the school year approaching and the beautiful weather outside. There has also been lots of reading, writing and 'rithmetic taking place. Let's just say we're covering plenty, though I will most likely make some changes for next year. I am thankful we get to learn as we go. Right now, I want to put a few pictures of what all has been going on around our home. If I wrote about all of it, this would be a lengthy post that no one would read, so I'll just do pics and put a few words under each one:

The kids at our homeschool groups' Easter party. They had a great time and according to Daniel (who took them) it was one of the best and most-organized parties ever!

Science experiment. How plants drink: Put a celery stalk and some white flowers in a glass of water with food coloring. You will be able to see the coloring travel up the stem of the celery and change the leaves. AND the white flowers will change colors too!

Our Resurrection Sunday decorations. We put a big paper cross on the wall and a banner coming out of it has Titus 2:11 on it. On the cross are the names of God. We had so much fun finding out about many of these names and it is still up, so we are reminded whenever we see it that there is no bunny to be celebrated, but something so much better -- a risen Savior...

My herbs -- basil and cilantro. These are the two I cook most frequently with. Note that there are three basil plants. We LOVE basil! It goes on homemade pizza and in bruschetta, and I make pesto and balsamic vinaigrette out of them all summer to eat with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella...

Carter and Daniel prepping the garden patch for planting. Addie working very hard at swinging on the disc in the background.

Several hours later, the garden patch. I planted (with a little help from the kids) two types of tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, onion bulbs, watermelons and corn. Hope it all grows! Next year, I want to start early and sprout my own seeds in cups during the winter to transplant. I decided on a garden too late this year to do that. I'm not super great with gardening so the progress remains to be seen... This will be an ongoing science project of sorts this summer. Also, if we have good tomato production, the kids will get a lesson in canning.

Wonder why Daniel wasn't helping with the garden? He was very nearby, making a french drain for our backyard because it has horrible drainage. The man tilled a trench and unloaded a yard of gravel himself into it. What a man!


It is NO secret that Cartere loves Hank the Cowdog. This stuffed Hank got to go to work with Daniel, who took pictures of Hank doing various things throughout the day. He has done this with one of Addie's animals before. It is his way of taking the kids to work with him since he works at a bank and because of security the kids can't go in and spend a day seeing what he does. Carter LOVED getting the pics of his stuffed Hank via e-mail throughout the day. Here he is, barking orders to someone who has a job to do...

"Y'all come back now, y'hear?"

Out of the mouths of babes...

Last year, I was downtown with Carter and I went looking for the abortion memorial that used 50 million pennies to mark 50 million abortions in our country since Roe v. Wade made abortion legal in 1973. I didn't realize he would be fascinated by the pennies (should have known), but he was and had a myriad of questions about them. I finally realized the opportunity to share something incredibly important with my son. At that time, he was in five-year-old kindergarten at a Christian, private school, but having attended the same school myself and come home with serious "birds and bees" questions in the first grade, I knew this was a chance to tell him the truth before someone else told him the lie. I am so thankful for that day. I kept it simple, explaining how sometimes the law is contrary to God's commands, like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego and King Nebuchudnezzar; like Daniel and King Darius; like people who today spread the gospel in countries that are closed to the gospel. It goes on and on. We have choices to make.


Who will we obey?

I told Carter how our law says that it's perfectly fine for a mommy to kill her baby before it ever even leaves her tummy. Carter, to say the least, was horrified and expressed, right off the bat, that he knew this was against God's law. He didn't have a ton of questions that day, but I think a good foundation was laid as we discussed how many pennies were there, and how big the container would have to be if each penny were a little baby. What an overwhelming thought!

The memorial being filled. If you go downtown, to the corners of Mississippi and Congress Streets, you will see how full it is now... It makes a great point of discussion with teens and really, children of any appropriate age.

Last week, Carter and Daniel went with a group from church to do some work at the CPC, a Christian abortion alternative clinic in Jackson. Again, we got to talk with Carter about how the work he was doing would be serving people who try to help very confused women make a choice to give life to their babies. I think the issue took root. Several hours later, we had family devotion. We prayed and when it came Carter's time to pray, he prayed probably a good three to five minute prayer interceding for the little babes who are killed, begging God to make it end. I often wonder if we do our child an injustice by telling him these things at such a young age, but when I heard the strength of his prayer, I was encouraged. THAT is what it's all about, isn't it, raising kids? Truth being rooted deeply in our children and seeing them living the truth, not just knowing it? I truly pray that as he and his sister grow, we will continue to share the truth, and that they will some day be a mighty man and woman of God, going wherever He would lead. I don't want to raise my kids to just live in suburbia (unless, of course, that is where God calls them). I want to raise them to share the truth with others, so that God's kingdom can come!

Surely Goodness and Mercy...

Last week was St. Patty's Day. We didn't really have any festivities, but I wanted to share the pic below. One of the BEST things that has already begun to come from homeschooling is the friendship developing between Carter and Addie. Before, there was so little time for them to get to know each other, and they just got on each others' nerves. They still bug the stew out of one another, but there are so many times when I hear talking and realize they're just chatting or he's reading to her. The other day, Addie told me that Carter was her "best friend". They really play together and enjoy each others' company.

Best friends...

Monday was so cool. Carter got to go to a special art class that our homeschooling group put on. I am increasingly thankful for that group! He learned to do an oil on canvas. Now, let me say that he considers painting his ABC's in different fonts art. He does not paint or draw! And here is what he did:

He was SO ENCOURAGED to be able to do something so big! I was encouraged too. Exposure is so good!

Wednesday, the kids had physicals. Addie got her vaccinations -- boo hiss! I hate seeing my kids stuck with needles, much less stuck three times. Wednesday evening, she was sore and exhausted so Daniel took Carter to church and they enjoyed a special meal and some really great missions activities. I was sad to miss out but my sweet girl and I enjoyed some special snuggling and an early bedtime.

Yesterday, we did double math! ACK! But it was worth it because there are no "lessons" to teach this morning. As soon as I post this blog, we'll be working on a hieroglyphics craft which I am looking forward to.

Saturday, we have Tornado Saturday for our missions week. It is a day where we go out to the community and just serve in remembrance of the Saturday two years ago when we were supposed to have a missions breakfast and the tornadoes blew through, leaving most of Jackson without power and covered in downed limbs, trees and other debris. Our church and even our missions speakers grabbed chainsaws and went out to help. So, our missions team has now made Saturday Tornado Saturday! We meet for breakfast, have a short talk for encouragement, then head out to the community. Daniel and Carter will be going with a group to serve at CPC and Addie and I are going to go with a group to sing at a nursing home. We definitely want the kids with us -- how else will they learn to serve?

A few more pictures from the week:

The dining room table after finishing a particularly rigorous math lesson (and that's only our first lesson of the day after Bible!). Still about four more subjects to go! We estimated how many cups of water each container would hold. It was a lot of fun! Note the toy gingerbread man in Carter's mouth. While we were doing math, Addie was busy in her play kitchen making us "snacks".

That night, after the supper dishes were all cleaned, the table was ready for a good nights' rest! I have to wipe down the table and sweep under it at least twice a day, but more often three times...

One of the things Miss Creativity likes to do is set up areas to play in the house. This is a movie theater she set up in the foyer. We all came in and pretended to eat popcorn and watch a movie. Notice that all of her stuffed friends came too.

Our letter of the week for preschool was "I". Addie made an "Elmo with ice cream".