Ouch!

After more than three weeks of suffering with a back ache, I finally made a doctor's appointment for today.

I was planning to ride this out, because I didn't want to pay the co-pay. I also didn't want a repeat of four years ago when I ended up being referred to physical therapy. (They wanted me to come twice a week at a cost of $50 per visit. I declined because I had three kids at home and wasn't going to pay $100 a week for PT in addition to the cost of a baby sitter. I went once a week instead and a friend covered for me by watching the kids.)

But with summer approaching, all three kiddos are about to be home full-time again. There isn't enough time or money for PT!

And I just bought a really neat new exercise DVD that I tried once despite the back pain only to get freaked out that I might actually do some extensive damage. I'm a rule follower... and that warning at the front of the DVD about not exercising without first clearing it with your doctor bugged me. Partly because I'm pretty sure what caused the back pain to begin with was an overzealous re-entry into the world of exercising along with another DVD.

Did I mention that summer is approaching? Yep, it's been hot enough for shorts this week. But I haven't worn any. Because it hurts my back when I bend to shave my legs. I take the pain on Sundays so I can wear a dress or skirt to church. But the rest of the week gets uglier as the days go by. The unshaven gams are kept under wraps out of consideration for all.

Plus, I was tired of moving so stinkin' slow all the time. It was getting way old... and I was feeling even older.

Thankfully, my spine x-rays looked fine today.

So instead of shelling out big bucks for PT, I forked over only slightly fewer bucks on prescriptions for an anti-inflammatory medicine and a muscle relaxer.

And I get to go ahead and do the exercise DVD as long as I take it easy. Now I have a good reason to avoid sweating.

I feel better already.

Preach On!

Do we have a future preacher in our house? If Spencer's school work is any indication, it's possible.

Ever since Spencer had his visit with our preacher, I've noticed him waving to our preacher any time he sees him. And on the way to the Easter Egg Hunt a few weeks ago, Spencer asked if he could hug the preacher when he saw him. It's sweet.

This week Spencer brought home a worksheet titled with "What Would You Like to Be?" He wrote "preacher" on the page and colored in the outfit he would wear to work.

Oh, how I wish we had a scanner so I could share his masterpiece with you. He colored his hair red. Good job.

But then he colored his preaching suit with a red shirt, blue pants, and orange shoes. I can assure you that our preacher does not dress with such multicolored abandon.

I asked Spencer why he wanted to be a preacher and he succinctly said, "So I can read my Bible all the time and because I love God."

He's such a good kid.

The other night, he sat next to me on the couch right before time for bed. I gave him a little hug and kiss, and he said to me, "If I was a grown up right now, I'd want you to be my wife."

Awwwww!

I SO prefer that Spencer over the Spencer who calls me a "meanie" when he's mad.

I just love that boy. Good and bad. All rolled into one highly energetic little redhead.

Don't Worry... Taste and See

I've got that yucky feeling in the pit of my belly.

It's stress.

I have four more weeks of Bible Study Fellowship, each Tuesday and Wednesday morning. I spend a few hours each Monday making phone calls to the ladies in my group to check on them. (I should be doing that right now!) I also plan to go one Thursday morning soon for the seminar "Resources for Study and Serving".

End-of-the-school-year activities? Help the kids memorize their last Awanas verses, have the younger two prepared for their last field trip, volunteer to help the kindergartners during the school Walk-a-Thon, help Spencer and Allison memorize their lines for the kindergarten program, organize parental involvement for Allison's end-of-the-year class party and send snacks for the boys' parties.

We have three more weeks of soccer practice each Monday evening and games on Saturday mornings. I'd love to skip out on that and give it over to Daddy Duty, but Bruce is coaching the younger two and Clay's team plays on a field that's the furthest away. We aren't comfortable just leaving him out of sight, so I go and cheer Clay on.

I need to prepare for leading the "Esther" study at church, starting on May 12. I didn't want it to overlap with BSF at all, but it's a 10-week study and we needed to start early enough so that we'd be finished once school starts back in the fall.

I've got some preparatory things to do for Vacation Bible School, which starts at our church the Sunday after school lets out. I need to visit Lifeway again to buy more books for the "Esther" study and to pick up more supplies for VBS. I have to give lesson plans to the other two second grade VBS teachers that I'm working with. I need to study the two lessons I'm responsible for.

Somewhere in there we're going to have Clay's ninth birthday party. I've got to get to Office Depot and see about printing up some invitations. Soon. I am not a party planner. We're going to scale back as much as I think we can this year. Lots of kids, little effort. Pizza, cake, snacks... and then I'm cutting them all loose in the yard to play. I think Clay wants a sleepover, too, so I guess I'll even have to clean house real good before I let them destroy it a bit.

I need to reserve a camp site somewhere, as yet to be determined, for our family vacation. We thought we'd do a loop up north, but we've decided against it. Bruce and I are not agreeing about plans, so we haven't made any yet. He still wants to do a big 7-day thing. I'd like to tone it way back - stay closer to home and not plan as long a stay so we can reserve the money we've saved for vacation to bridge this time while Bruce's pay cut might pinch.

It's a lot.

When I look at the calendar each night to see what the next day holds to make sure I don't drop the ball somewhere and leave a child feeling neglected or a husband overlooked... well, I just want a nap.

But this is my family. My biggest blessings next to Jesus.

I've got it good. Really good.

I just need to remember to look ahead only one day!

Matthew 6:34
"Therefore don't worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Our church choir sang this on Sunday morning. It has meant a lot to me, in the thick of this stressful, but blessed, time.



We weren't as colorful in our rendition. We don't have the robes for one thing... and we don't have the rhythm for another. Well, I don't anyway.

He is good. And I never have to worry, never have to fret.

Chicago Mass Choir widget by 6L & Daxii

I've Been Grilled

I've been blog surfing a minute or two again lately. Not heavily, like I did last year. That was excessive. But don't tell Bruce.

Actually, he probably already knows. One too many dinners making it to the table late were evidence.

Anyway, I've found a new favorite over at Golden Goodness. Tina is a fellow Tennessean. I like that!

Here's something else I like from her blog.



Here are her grilling questions this week (with my answers):

1. When you were in school, did you study hard or cram the night before?
I didn't learn how to really study until years after college, doing Bible studies. Probably because I was more interested in that than most of my college classes. I was a total crammer in college. Drove my husband nuts, because I'd cram and he'd really study. He's decided that's just the difference between an English/journalism major and a mechanical engineering major. He might be right.

2. What can pull you out of a really funky mood?
A good book, almost always. Music, usually. Nature, but I enjoy it best when I'm alone with nothing to distract me from God's creation.

3. Do you keep the invoice after you've paid the bill?
Used to. For far too long. Now Bruce does all that stuff. And I love him for it.

4. Do you have yard sales? Shop at them?
I've had more yard sales than I've shopped at. I don't like driving from spot to spot, never sure of what I'll find, if anything. I love consignment sales though, when everything is in one location and I don't leave empty handed.

5. When was the last time you rode a rollercoaster?
Sometime last summer, Thunderhead at Dollywood

6. Spring cleaning...do you do such things as wash your windows?
I detest washing windows. I'll do the inside, but I leave the outside for Bruce to do.

7. How often do you clean out your refrigerator?
Before kids, every two weeks... right before payday when I knew I'd be grocery shopping the next day. Now, it gets cleaned if we are having any kind of company and I think someone might need to peep inside the fridge. I also clean it whenever one of the kids spills something inside of it. And before "eating" holidays... you know the ones... Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, the kids' birthdays. Because I have to fit more prepared dishes and leftovers back in there and I like it to be cleaned and organized first.

8. Have you ever been a victim of identity theft?
No. Nobody wants to be me. That's good, right? :-)

I Hate This Stage

Third grade love doesn't last.

But somehow, it's much more painful to watch my child go through rejection than it was to experience it myself.

Clay's first statement to me today once off the school bus was, "I had a terrible day. I'm upset."

When I had a chance to sit with him and talk privately, he said that his friend, D., who also likes his crush, A., asked A. which of the boys she liked better. She picked D.

Frankly, I question her taste.

Anyway...

I told my sweet oldest child that I was sorry to hear about it because I know it hurts. His eyes teared up and I asked if he needed to cry about it.

He said no. I hate that. More proof that he's growing up. (Just last week I was belatedly mourning the loss of watching such shows as "Blues Clues" with the kids. Evidently, that show is "just for babies". Or so I've been told. Who knew?)

I thought I might lighten the sadness for Clay and said, "Well, I hate to tell you, but this is only the first time. It's going to happen again. And it's going to stink then, too. But, it's not like you could really 'date' because you don't have a license or a car to drive anywhere. And it's not like you could get married, because you're a little young for that."

He smiled. A bit.

I told him about a friend at church who his daddy liked for a bit, but she liked somebody else. Then she liked Bruce and he liked somebody else.

"And they never dated, Clay," I said. "But they're still friends. Do you think you can still be friends with both A. and D.?"

He said he could. And I said I was glad.

Then he said another friend of his made him feel a little bit better. I asked how.

"He told me I was a close second."

I did NOT laugh right then. I laughed later. I can't say that would have made me feel better, but I'm not a third grade boy, either.

I pointed out to Clay that school is almost over and he likely wouldn't see A. all summer anyway. And next year, she might not even be in his class.

But maybe some other cute little girl would be. And maybe she'd like Clay better than chocolate chip cookies.

"Wouldn't that be great?" I asked.

And he replied, "If you like chocolate chip cookies, I guess."

I did laugh then.

I hate this stage for him. It really does stink.

I Love This Stage

The kids have brought me so much joy this past week. They are so fun... and funny!

I'm not in the mood to post about each thing separately, so I'll just compile it all for this post.

Clay is deep in the throes of his first real crush. He has come home several days with a silly little grin on his face with no more to say than, "A. is so pretty."

A. also happens to play soccer with the same league that our kids play in. She is not on Clay's team, though.

This past Saturday, her team played on the field next to the field where Clay's team played. I walked back and forth between Clay's game and where Bruce was coaching Spencer and Allison's team.

I got to the younger two shortly before Spencer sat out for a bit. We chatted on the side while the rest of his team played. There's a little boy, A., on their team who is in Spencer's class at school, and I've seen A. each time I've gone up to the school to have lunch with my favorite redheaded kindergartner.

While Spencer was watching his teammates play, he must have seen A. do something that wasn't aggressive enough in his mind, because he shouted: "C'mon, A. Be a man!"

I have no idea where he learned that phrase. Probably from Bruce.

After the games were over, as we were walking back to the van to head home, Clay said, "Mom, some very important people were watching how well I did today."

What? Talent scouts? No.

Maybe he just meant his grandparents, who came to show support? So far off base it's not even funny.

"Who, Clay?" I asked.

And he names the little girl who he is crushing on.

Here we go. I'm thinking nothing's going to be the same now that he's discovered that all girls don't have cooties.

And it's not just the little girl he likes who is influencing him, either.

He came home this week and wanted to lift my free weights. To build muscle in his arms. Because another little girl in his class had grabbed him around his upper arm and then made the remark that he felt flabby.

Good grief! He's nine years old, for crying out loud. Can you imagine how silly he'd look as a nine-year-old beefcake?

He defended himself to me by saying, "I wasn't even flexing, Mom!" Poor kid.

Of course anything that Clay goes through rubs off onto little brother. Spencer has been lifting the weights, too.

He came up to me and Bruce the other night and said, "I want those little square things" and he gestures his hands somewhere in the vicinity of his torso.

"What square things, Spencer?" we asked.

"Oh, you know, those square things right there on your stomach."

Hmmm. A six-pack. Our six-year-old wants six-pack abs.

The funny thing is, Spencer actually has six-pack abs already. He just doesn't see it.

I'll share just a couple more words from them.

Bruce was watching the NASCAR race Saturday night and the rest of us were sitting on the couch in the den. Not really watching, but absorbing the noise just the same. (Well, Clay was watching. He's Bruce's Mini Me.)

After a bit, Spencer piped up and said, "I hate the races."

We asked, "Why?" (We do that a lot. Ask "why".)

"Because, it's just cars going around and around in an oval the whole time."

Yes, it is. And yet, it still entertains millions of adults each week.

One more. This time from Allison.

Saturday evening our church had a ladies' banquet. I didn't feel like getting too dressy-dressy. So I put on a melon-colored short-sleeved polo shirt and some brown pants.

Even though the day had been beautiful and warm, I thought it might be cool in the church gym or even outside by the time I left to return home. So I fished a beige sweater out of the recesses of my closet. Then I put on one of my pairs of Birkenstocks.

Allison was sitting on the couch when I came downstairs, so I asked, "How do I look?"

She looked me up and down, raised her pointing finger toward my top and said, "Ummm, maybe without the sweater."

I hesitantly peeled the offending sweater off, under the watchful eye of Allison. And once I held it in my hand, she said, "That's better."

I asked her, "What if I get cold?"

"Well," she said, "then you can wear it. But just carry it with you."

And so I did.

And I'm sure this scene will play out often in years to come.

I wonder when I can just cut her loose and let her be my own personal mall shopper?

How Much?

I grapple with understanding God's love.

Because I'm pretty stinkin' unlovable sometimes.

I know that Jesus is the only reason God can even stand to look at me.

I love this song by Mandisa called "How Much".



The best days I've ever had?

The day I got on my knees in my bedroom, alone, and asked God to fix my mess, to forgive me and to help me live.

The day I married Bruce, who is still my best friend. Even thought he knows me better today than he did on that day.

The day Clay was born and they handed me that squalling, nearly nine-pound boy with the blue eyes. I thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

The day Spencer was born, kicking and screaming and mad as a hornet, and Allison followed 15 minutes later, blue and not kicking or screaming. But through God's grace she rebounded by the time our pediatrician arrived to check out our little "baby in distress".

All those days rolled into one... and God loves me more.

I grapple with how He does that.

It's incomprehensible.

Then again, He's God. And I don't have to understand it all. I just have to believe it.

And I do.

Snake and Snails... and Sugar and Spice

Duct tape. It's a man's best friend.

And a boy's, too. Especially if it's dad's duct tape. And it's left out within your grasp.



What will they do with it? Save the world?

Nah, just save their hides when they skateboard.





It didn't take them long to realize that even duct tape wasn't strong enough to hold a boy onto a skateboard while doing tricks.

And then we have our boys' preferred method of taking care of leftover Easter eggs.

BEFORE:



DURING:





AFTER:



Allison did her fair share of kicking and throwing eggs, too, though.

Today, she cracked me up with this:



Why would she poke air holes in the top of the box?

So her babies could breathe, of course.



Notice the exquisite bedding, made solely by Charmin.

Snakes and Snails... and All That

Boys!

They are a special breed.

Yesterday I got a phone call from the school, but this time it wasn't the nurse. No, it was one of the lunchroom monitors. Clay had spilled his Minute Maid orange juice all over himself while eating lunch. Could I bring him a change of clothes?

Well, sure. It's what I live for as a stay-at-home mom. (I really mean that. No sarcasm.)

When I got to the school, Clay was sitting outside the front office along with a friend of his. I gave Clay a bag of clean clothes and sent him to the nearest boys' bathroom. With instructions to put his juicy clothes in the bag instead of leaving them strewn across the bathroom floor in hopes that I would be along to pick them up behind him.

And then I chatted with his little friend. I thought he might be sick and waiting for his ride home.

It's funny how the whole story always comes out just one bit at a time.

Clay's friend's grandmother pulled up in front of the school. She walked in, carrying a bag. Of clean clothes. Because Clay's juice had spilled all over his friend as well.

But they weren't playing at lunch. No.

I know because I asked. And I was told there was no playing going on.

Sure I believe him. He's my son, after all.

Whatever!

Boys!

Seriously, I love being a mom to boys.

Being a mom to a girly girl is great, too. But I was never a girly girl. I had brothers.

My baby dolls had their hair cut for retribution for whatever heinous act I had committed. My barbies were thrown in mud puddles along with my brothers' monster trucks. For years, I could beat my older brother in a race around my grandparents' house. And I could go way higher in a tree climbing contest between me and both my brothers.

One of my dad's favorite stories about me when I was little had me as protector of my older brother. Some older boy was making fun of him outside our home. Dad was inside, just about to go out and put a stop to it. Out of the blue, I whizzed up, kicked the older boy in the shin, told him to leave my big brother alone and whizzed right back outta there.

I always wanted a sister when I was growing up, but never got one. In that way, I identify with my daughter. But when it comes to fingernail polish and shoes, I express an interest in those things for pure love of my girl.

Boys I understand.

Except the one I'm married to. He'll always be a mystery.

The Next Ansel Adams

My husband is having a brush with fame. He's been published. Not for writing, but for his photography.

Bruce took a business trip to New Zealand a little over a year ago. Evidently, this was a trip of a lifetime. He has been saying ever since then that he'd like to go back some day with me in tow.

New Zealand is gorgeous. I've seen the pictures he brought back, taken between his various business meetings.

And now others will see at least one of them as well. This one:



When Bruce came back, he posted several pictures from the Auckland area on Flickr. Evidently, he was contacted to see if that one above could be published. No monetary compensation, unfortunately, but still, it's pretty cool.

You can see where he was published by clicking HERE. Then go down to the heading for Karekare Beach. The photos pop up to the right and you can scroll through using the arrows until you see Bruce's photo and name.

I'm pretty proud of him. I'm the one who took photography in college and then used cameras almost daily when I worked at newspapers nearly a decade ago. But Bruce knows his way around a camera better than I do these days.

It's because he's patient. He reads camera manuals. And lots of advice from professionals.

I don't. I'm happy with my point-and-shoot camera.

In closing, if you aren't familiar with Ansel Adams' work, then I have a treat for you.

Moonrise by Ansel Adams. Taken in 1941, in Hernandez, New Mexico.



I have a poster of this print hanging in my kitchen. It's my fave.

You can't see as much detail in this little copy. It's a small town lit by moon light with headstones highlighted from the cemetery on the outskirts of town. Gorgeous!

Happy Easter!

I'm Lovin' It

I love Spring. Even if I do need Claritin to survive it.

Spring and Fall are my seasons of choice.

Summer is too hot. There's lots of sweat involved. And as far as slipping on a swimsuit goes... yeah, I'd rather be cleaning toilets.

Winter is too cold. There's lots of snow and ice involved. And school cancellations drive me nuts if I have appointments or plans that can't involve the kids.

I'm not a person who loves extremes. Better to go middle-of-the-road. And so, transition seasons are my faves.

These are things that make me smile in Spring.

I have no idea what these flowers are called. I call them Toothbrush flowers, because the blooming part is about the length of a toothbrush.



Our forsythia as its blooms fade and the leaves shoot out.



Creeping phlox, which grows anywhere. I got this started from some I pulled up from my mom's house before she moved back to Germany years ago.



Our red-tip photinias are so pretty right now.



Every year we have a few feathered friends finding homes in our trees. And we get to enjoy peeping into their nests to check on any eggs. We are some crazy Peeping Toms when it comes to our bird buddies. I think this nest is from last year though.



What's your favorite thing about Spring?

Good Friday

"It was the third hour when they crucified him. The written notice of the charge against him read: THE KING OF THE JEWS. They crucified two robbers with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, 'So! You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross and save yourself!'"

"With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last. The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, heard his cry and saw how he died, he said, 'Surely this man was the Son of God!'"

"So Joseph bought some linen cloth, took down the body, wrapped it in the linen, and placed it in a tomb cut out of rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb."

-Mark 15:25-30, 37-39, 46 (NIV)

Pay Cuts and Spencer's Wisdom

Bruce's employer is hacking salaries, which is better news that being laid off, which is just rampant all over right now.

His pay cut is substantial. It's going to make a difference to our family. We're going to need to tighten our financial belt, and I'm not even sure where.

Bruce suggested dropping our subscription to our local newspaper for one idea. And it was the least painful option, so I'd say we'll be doing that soon. But it makes me a little sad, because I still toy with the idea of doing freelance with the local paper at some point. And I like to support newspapers since that was my field before entering Mommy-dom.

We also may cut our telephone land line, which at this point wouldn't hurt at all considering that Bruce already dropped all the cool phone features anyway. And I survived the loss of caller ID. If we do drop the land line, we'll still have our cell phones, and I'll make sure you all have our phone numbers beforehand.

I don't feel the floor dropping out from under me. After we talked for a few minutes, I told Bruce, "You know, it's bad. But it's not the worst. We're going to be fine. I'm just thankful..."

Yes, thankful. Because we have been guided by the Lord this year in some financial decisions that now make sense. Situations that have clearly been labeled with a "no" answer from God. Even if I didn't like hearing it.

Should we purchase that house with the great price tag because it's in foreclosure? No. Can we buy some land and make plans to build then? No.

Should we visit Mom in Germany on our annual vacation? No. How about Disneyworld again, God? No.

Oh, I know, I know. Maybe it's time to trade in our van for a newer model? No. Awww, c'mon! A flat screen TV then? No. A new couch to replace the one the kids have made nearly threadbare? No.

I just really appreciate it when part of God's plan becomes clear.

Now, concerning Spencer.

That little fella is being worked on by the Lord. Oh, he's still full of spit and vinegar. But apologies are coming without prompting and more easily lately. And he's catching himself right at the beginning of a stream of words that are best left unsaid.

It's neat to see.

I took him yesterday to visit the preacher. They talked alone for about 20 minutes. And then they came out and Preacher Roy gave me the low down from his point of view, which coincided with our thoughts exactly.

I actually pulled Spencer out of school for this visit. How else is he going to have solitary time? Plus, with him having a twin, I'm concerned about copy cat behavior from Allison, who hasn't vocalized any great interest in spiritual things yet. Not with any depth anyway.

After I picked Spencer up from school, as we were driving to the church, we had a little conversation about the benefits of school. It started with him saying how he likes school, but he misses me while he's at school.

I told him I missed him, too, and that was all normal, but how cool is it to be learning to read?

Quite cool, he agreed. And then said this: "Because if I couldn't read, then I couldn't read my Bible. And if I couldn't read my Bible, then what would I know?"

I loved that! How does a six-year-old make such profound statements? "If I couldn't read my Bible, then what would I know?"

Continue praying for him.

Exactly!

Spencer approached us the other day with this phrase: "I think God wants me to be baptized."

We talked and decided to take him to visit our preacher. I don't think he fully understands all there is to grasp before making Jesus his Savior, but he's seeking. And we'll help any way we can with that.

Anyway, I took him yesterday to visit the preacher. They talked alone for about 20 minutes. And then they came out and Preacher Roy gave me the low down from his point of view, which coincided with our thoughts exactly.

I actually pulled Spencer out of school for this visit. How else is he going to have solitary time? Plus, with him having a twin, I'm concerned about copy cat behavior in his sister, who hasn't vocalized any great interest in spiritual things yet. Not with any depth anyway.

So I picked Spencer up from school and as we were driving to the church, we had a little conversation about the benefits of school. It started with him saying how he likes school, but he misses me while he's at school.

I told him I missed him, too, and that was all normal, but how cool is it to be learning to read?

Quite cool, he agreed. And then said this: "Because if I couldn't read, then I couldn't read my Bible. And if I couldn't read my Bible, then what would I know?"



That's right.

If we don't read our Bible, then what do we know?

Being a mom just rocks when God gives you a nugget right from your child's mouth.

Wonderful, Merciful Savior

Bruce just called me on my cell as I was running errands around town to inform me that his employer is hacking salaries.

When he called, I thought it was to tell me he'd been laid off. There are no rumors where he works yet, but we've been there before. And it's likely we'll be there again if the economy doesn't improve soon.

Lay-offs are on my heart right now because our town is rife with them. And where we live just isn't large enough that you can avoid feeling the pain of the job losses, whether it hits your family personally or a friend's.

Bruce's pay cut is substantial. It's going to make a difference to our family. We're going to need to tighten our financial belt, and I'm not even sure where.

But I don't feel the floor dropping out from under me. After we talked for a few minutes, I told Bruce, "You know, it's bad. But it's not the worst. We're going to be fine. I'm just thankful..."

Yes, thankful. Because we have been guided by the Lord this year in some financial decisions that now make sense. Situations that have clearly been labeled with a "no" answer from God. Even if I didn't like hearing it.

Should we purchase that house with the great price tag because it's in foreclosure? No. Can we buy some land and make plans to build then? No.

Should we visit Mom in Germany on our annual vacation? No. How about Disneyworld again, God? No.

Oh, I know, I know. Maybe it's time to trade in our van for a newer model? No. Awww, c'mon! A flat screen TV then? No. A new couch to replace the one the kids have made nearly threadbare? No.

I hung up the phone. And I fished out of the van console a CD of praise anthems from choir a few years ago. I knew just the song I was looking for.



"Almighty, infinite Father, faithfully loving Your own.
Here in our weakness You find us falling before Your throne."

He's wonderful. He's merciful.

And He's faithful. Always has been. Always will be.

I'm counting on it.

One Reason

When I first met and fell for Bruce, this is what I saw in him.



Sweet, huh? He's a great dad.

Tricky Mom

The kids always get milk to drink with their meals, and water with their snacks. But for April Fool's Day, I decided they could have a treat with their supper.



Or did I?

Yes, a treat. But not a drink.



I read about this little April Fool's fun in Family Fun magazine. Our neighbor passed on a stack of past issues to me. Just in time for some silliness.

Being Baptized

Spencer has decided he wants to be baptized.

He came up to me yesterday while I was baking cookies for a church fellowship and whispered: "Mom, I think God is telling me to be baptized."

I said, "He is? Well, we'll talk about it some more."

Then he went to tell Bruce. And they did talk for awhile.

Spencer does not "get it" yet. But he asking good questions, like Clay did before he asked Jesus into his heart.

The difference is that Spencer is getting info from a big brother, whereas Clay did not.

Spencer thinks you have to be baptized to be saved. Well, he did, until we told him otherwise. He also thinks there are magic words that need to be said... thanks to Clay.

Anyway, I did mention all this to our preacher last night and asked if he'd be willing to talk with Spencer if I brought him by his office sometime soon.

So that's what we're going to do. I'll probably pull him out of school early one afternoon this week.

Say a prayer for Spencer.

And for me. Of course, as a mom, I would love to know another one of our children is taking that step.

But I also struggle with it happening to one so young, because that's not how it was for me.

And I think I particularly struggle with this knowing it is Spencer this time. Because he is so often the one who is a challenge. And I don't want to be... judgmental.

I don't want to think that he'll become this perfect, easy child just because he claims Jesus. I know that's not realistic, because I'm not a perfect, easy child, even though I'm certainly saved.

But what a thing of beauty it would be if a change were evident.

This Christian mommy stuff is hard.

The Blessing of Music

Last night our church choir performed its Easter Cantata. It was beautiful.

I got to hear the music portion early on because our choir director asked me if I could write narration for the program. I had no idea who at church told him I could write, but someone did. I agreed to give it a shot before I heard the music because I don't often get to write for a purpose any more. And once I heard what songs Brian had picked, I felt the Lord's leading immediately.

Some songs were familiar; some were new to me. But they all touched me. In fact, as I listened, daily, to the CD Brian had burned for me at least one song would leave me tearing up. And it was a different song every day. You know how God is... He just meets you where you are.

After about two weeks of listening, I realized that I couldn't write narration after just listening to the music. Because it was distracting me. Music moves me, and words move me. Trying to do both at the same time was tearing me up. I was coming up blank because all I could focus on was worship.

And that's a great thing.

But it wasn't getting me any narration written.

So I sat down at the computer and wrote out the words to every song, in the order that Brian planned to have them sung. Just the words. No tunes.

Then I prayed. And opened up my Bible and my Holman Bible Dictionary. And waited.

But not for long. The Lord pretty much took over there.

When I was done writing, I prayed some more. And it was clear that my part was finished.

I generally second guess every thing I write, whether it's something that was published in a newspaper, a blog post, a term paper, even the wording on our wedding program. I pick it apart after the fact and think of how it could have been done better. One word here would have been stronger than the one I chose. A comma right there would have made that portion more understandable.

But there was no hesitation this time. I didn't go back and read over what was written after I e-mailed the text to Brian and he said he liked what I sent.

And last night when I heard those words narrated between songs, I didn't feel the normal sense of familiarity I usually have with words I write. I just truly believe they were God's words, not mine.

That's what I prayed for all along. That I would be a tool and nothing more.

For those church members who said something sweet to me about what was written, I thank you. But at the same time, I feel sort of like I need to shrink back from that. Because I can't claim those words as mine.

And because I think God blessed me most.

And the only explanation I have for that is this: when I teach a Sunday school class or a Bible study, I know God is touching me more than he could possibly be impacting those who are in the class.

Now, I'll tell you some thing a bit funny.

I'm not watering it down when I say those songs got to me. Yesterday morning, the choir sang one that by then I had heard dozens of times, and I knew I'd hear it again in the evening as part of the program.

I already felt like I'd been put through a spiritual wringer in Sunday school. Nothing particularly rough is going on at home. No hormones to accuse. No spousal arguing. The kids all behaved well that morning and we even got to church on time.

But you know when you keep hearing the same thing over and over again from God, to the point that you can't even remember where you heard it first? That was going on in Sunday school. And I kept thinking of one verse that wasn't a part of our actual Sunday school lesson, but something someone said made me think of it.

Where did I hear that verse first? Was it on that radio program I listen to in the van on Wednesdays? Did the preacher use this text recently? Were we referred back to that scripture in Bible Study Fellowship notes lately?

And then I remembered. The first place I heard it was while working with Clay on memorizing Awana verses. So here's the verse that was kicking my tail in Sunday school: "For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all." James 2:10.

I won't go into detail as to why that verse is applying to me so much right now, because this post is getting novel-ish already. But you think on it, too, and maybe it can kick your tail for a bit as well.

Back to the music.

I sat in the church service alone yesterday morning. The hubby was counting the offering; the kids were in children's church. So I scooted in toward the center of the pew and this precious older lady came and asked if I was saving the seat next to me for anyone. I said I was saving it for her, so she sat down and we chatted for a minute or two.

She had the man who was with her go get her one of those hearing devices that makes it easier to hear the service if you have any problems with your hearing. She told me that she used to be embarrassed to need one, but that it helped so much she got over it.

Then the service started and the congregation sang three songs... a couple were older hymns. The kind that make me think of going to services at my grandpa's church when I was just a little bit. My grandpa is going to turn 91 soon, so I get a little weepy when I think about what time I may have left with him.

Are you seeing a pattern here? Seriously, it's a good thing I don't normally wear make-up anymore, because the water works were in full force.

Then the choir sang "Jerusalem". And I was done for!

I was swiping at tears in the corners of my eyes after the first verse, but I felt a sob coming on as the chorus came up. The kind of sob you do as a child when you're having an all out fit and then you can't breathe so you kind of take in bullet breaths that shake your whole chest.

And then my favorite part came up.

"Jerusalem, I want to walk your streets that are golden.
And I want to run where the angels have trod.
Jerusalem, I want to rest on the banks of your river.
In that city, city of God.
John saw the lion lay down by the lamb. I want to know ev’rything about that lamb.
John saw the day, but did not see night. The Lamb of God, well, must be the Light."

I want to know everything about that Lamb. The Lamb of God must be the Light!

And that's when I snorted.

I was trying so hard not to sob out loud and distract every person on my row. But the effort was too much, so it came out as a snort instead.

And I was grateful I was sitting next to that sweet little old lady with the hearing problem.

Tell me God doesn't take care of the details!

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

After blogging for the past two years at Three Moody Cuties, I decided to make that blog more of what it was intended to be... a way to stay in touch with family members who don't live close by. Going back to the basics, so to speak. So I made it private and invited only our family to be members of the freak show that is often our lives.

But I still wanted a place to do my thing on occasion, too. Put up some fun blog questionnaires, post clips of music, ramble a bit about what God's been saying to me at that point in time.

And so, the birth of a new blog. But birthing a new blog name was creating some major labor pains. I'd plug in something I liked and Blogger would let me know how unoriginal I was being by informing me that the name was already taken.

So I go where I often go when I need help... my husband. Bruce suggested Twisted Sister. Not only was I not a fan, but it's evidently unoriginal as well. And then he said, "How about Tanja Lasagna?"

I laughed.

Because I'd already considered it.

And because he knows me so well.

Tanja Lasagna was my nickname in kindergarten, oh so many years ago. I hated it. And for years I wouldn't eat lasagna either, because I was sure I'd hate it as well.

Today, I don't think I've met a pasta I don't love. Plus, I get a lot of people asking me how to say my name - sometimes even people I've gone to church with for years. So there you go... Tanja rhymes with lasagna.

And I thought nothing good could ever come from a childhood moniker.

Savior, Please

It's been awhile since I posted a video clip of a song that's really getting to me. Here's one that I'm loving right now.



I was put off at first by the lyrics that say "Savior, please keep saving me" because I firmly believe that once Jesus gets a hold of your life, you don't lose the gift of salvation.

But I have ups and downs as a Christian. I fall. I fail.

I go back to this verse: Philippians 3:12-16.

"Not that I have already reached [the goal] or am already fully mature, but I make every effort to take hold of it because I also have been taken hold of by Christ Jesus. Brothers, I do not consider myself to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to what is ahead, I pursue as my goal the prize promised by God's heavenly call in Christ Jesus. Therefore, all who are mature should think this way. And if you think differently about anything, God will reveal this to you also. In any case, we should live up to whatever [truth] we have attained."

I'm not there yet, but I am responsible for living up to the standard that God has revealed to me up to that point in my life. And once I "get it", He'll reveal more to me. And then I'll be responsible for that, too.

But it's awful hard to live up to all those expectations. Because of sin and my nature to wallow in it.

So Savior, please, keep saving me. Every single day. Bit by bit.