Blessings Abound

When you have everything,
You have everything to lose…

A candle throws its light into the darkness
In a nasty world, so shines the good deed

Make sure the fortune, that you seek
Is the fortune you need.

 

(Ben Harper, Diamonds on the Inside)

 

Lately, I feel such a longing for my God. Hard to explain, but I've found myself craving my time with Him each morning. I can't wait to get up, have coffee, and just be in His presence. Recently, I can feel Him reminding me of all that He has showered me with...
 

Like coworkers that truly love from deep within. Friday, I met a friend in the hallway who just wanted a hug. We wound up discussing the overwhelming feeling you sometimes get as a wife, mom, teacher, maid, etc. Well, I say we "discussed"...it was more like me venting and her listening. What a blessing to commiserate with such a sweet soul. Earlier in the week, I spent some time on the playground with some of our amazing kindergarten assistants. We shared stories about our children, which lead to praise and stories of how the Lord has brought us where we are now. I got so happy and excited that I could've thrown up a tent and shouted "glory" at the top of my lungs. It was straight revival time, we all joked. I love hearing from other women/mommies who rejoice in where they have been and all that they have learned.

 

Another blessing: realizing and feeling how large and connected God's kingdom really is. It's no accident that I am given students whose parents are believers; it's no accident that we are awarded opportunities to share that we know and love Christ. And the coolest part of my week?? Making a friend in Uganda! Yep, AFRICA. "Meeting" another sister who is halfway around the world from me, and being blessed by her words and wisdom. The Lord knew I needed someone to understand the longing inside my heart, so He provided.

 

God's provisions also come in the form of a feisty little two-year-old and his little bundle of a sister...
Like when Trafton covers his eyes to count during hide and seek. His stubby little fingers cover half of his eyes, while he peeks out of the open areas. He counts "1, 2, 1, 2, 9" and then informs us "ready, set!"
Or when he enters the room and sees his sister, he shouts out "Hey, Mae Mae! Kiss her!" and insists on giving Chamblee a smooch. This certainly makes a mama's heart happy.

Suffering through a hug from mom...just up from a nap. He wakes up like Daddy....slowly.

Sweet girl enjoying the exersaucer :)

 



I am so very fortunate.

I have God's more-than-enough,
More joy in one ordinary day...
At day's end I'm ready for sound sleep,
For you, God, have put my life back together.
(Psalm 4: 7, 8)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Knit Together

You have searched me, Lord,
    and you know me.
 You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar....

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.

(Psalm 139)

I am struggling, fighting between what I should be doing and what the devil injects into my brain. I have struggled with this demon for years- 14 to be exact- and it's rearing it's ugly head. Prayer, positive thoughts, scripture on my mirror all seem to help some. Insecurities run wild. Fortunately, my Father God is stronger. He takes my weakness and turns it into something He can work with. My prayers vacillate between wanting to get better and not wanting to heal, instead justifying what I'm struggling with as "normal" or something that will pass. Hasn't passed in 14 years, not sure what makes me think that one day it will disappear.

No matter what I pray or plead, somehow God meets me right when I need Him. On Monday morning, I was having an especially hard time. Y'all, He HANDED me scripture. I read, in 1 Kings, about Solomon's temple that was to honor God. Then I happened to pick up Forgotten God (Francis Chan) and read a few pages. What was this chapter about? Why, taking care of God's temple, of course. And he wasn't speaking of a literal temple. Instead, Chan was referring to our bodies- the shell that God has gifted us to walk through this life inside of. Once we know Christ, He equips us with the Holy Spirit. He accompanies us as we weave down the road of life. He tells me where to turn and how fast to go. I may not always adhere to His directions, but He IS there, gently prodding. I SHOULD let him be the driver, but instead I push Him into the passenger seat.

On Monday morning, after reading these two things, I went to get ready for work. As I dried my hair, I glanced at Chamblee's ultrasound pics that are stuck to our bathroom mirror. Wow, I thought, these look so different now that I know her heart and her personality. She is no longer a simple black and white photo, just a skeleton. She smiles, she cries, and she blesses me with her life. I realized, suddenly, that this is what I am to God...not merely a shell of bones and muscles, but a Spirit-filled child with a heart for Him and for others. He doesn't care if my shell is perfect; He cares what I'm doing with what He has given me.


All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
(Gungor)

Changing

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.
                           (Bob Dylan)

I love those moments when your world sort of freezes for a second; you have some sort of epiphany and you realize that your thinking may not ever be the same. Today it hit me: I have "transitioned". I wanted to write that I am OLD, but I honestly don't believe that. I'd rather go with "experienced" or "wise" (insert loud laughter).

Today, as I sat in the doctor's office, I glanced through a magazine and sent some text messages. As I reached to put my phone back into my purse, I paused. Is that? Could it be? No way! YES- a dried booger. ON MY PURSE. I wasn't sure what to do: laugh, be mortified, or both. I wondered how long it had been there. I can tell you exactly how it happened. My stinker of a son walked by my purse, which I hang on the kitchen barstool, and decided that it was the perfect place to wipe his recently snotty nose. I had to smile; I was "that mom". Ready for the sick part? I didn't even mind it being there. It was a nice reminder of my child. Ten years ago, if I emptied my purse, you'd find my phone, a calendar, wallet, gum, and other girly odds and ends. Now?? Still these essentials, along with crunched-up cheerios, used tissues, possibly a sippy cup, and let's not forget the hospital bracelets that were snipped from my 2nd child's birth. (Yes, I realize that these should be somewhere sacred....it's funny how different your experience proves to be with the second child.)

Next, I sped across the street to get groceries while I had grandma at home to watch the littles. Loaded my cart up with formula and other snacks, then went to the checkout line. In front of me? A 20-something young woman in tall heels, a tight skirt, perfect hair. And what was she buying? Well, as I loaded my cans of formula and green beans onto the conveyor belt, she easily handed the cashier two bottles of white wine....and that's all. I was tempted to barter with her...hey, I'll trade you a can of puffs for a swig of that wine! Or maybe a jar of JIF for a teeny sip? As I left the store, I walked behind her and watched several men stare after her. (It was actually me that they were staring at, but I let her enjoy the moment. Ha!) I found myself smiling and thanking God for my life. That was literally me ten years ago (minus the skinny legs)...single, heels on my feet, and ready to have a good time. I called Chris and told him that I felt like I'd just watched myself walk out of the store.

I have gone from a single and free young woman to a married and free young mother. Yes, I have experienced freedom in both of these life stages, but in such different forms. Ten years ago, I was graduating college, staying out all night, and doing who-knows-what. I was free to roam and free of commitments. No job, no ring on my finger, and no little ones to watch over. Now, I enjoy a deeper freedom. I am free to mess up (royally, at times!) because I know that my family and my God will forgive me. I know that I am living in the midst of this beautiful plan that God created; I am free to be myself because I finally know exactly who I am.

Will dance for food...

So thankful for precious moments with my family. Lately, I feel like I need to walk around with a video camera or a notebook, recording everything...

Like this morning...it's Crazy Hair Day at school and I'm frantically trying to put my hair into pigtails. Haven't tried that in a while- I need to brush up on my pigtailin' skills before Chamblee gets older. Since I couldn't part the back, I enlisted my husband. At one point, I would've done just about anything for a camera. I was holding one section of hair, Chris' arm was linked through mine and holding another section while he tried to part the back. After that, he tied the big ribbons on each side. That's my man. He anticipated his late arrival to work:
Why are you late, Cranford?
Well, sir, I was helping my wife do her pigtails.

Like when Chamblee smiles her "squinty" smile. Her little mouth turns up and her eyes wrinkle; I can't help but smile back. Or when she talks to me as I work in the kitchen. She sits in her bouncy seat and just goes on and on. (Wonder who she inherited that from?! Hint: not her daddy.) Or when I go upstairs to get her every morning. Grunting and squirming, but she immediately calms when I say "Good morning, Mae Mae". She stills and then smiles. Last night, as I listened to Chris and Trafton in the bathtub, I sat with my daughter on the bed. She would squirm, pass gas, and smile her squinty smile. Ahh, precious memories.

My favorite recent story involves T. and his insatiable desire for tootsie rolls. A bag mysteriously wound up in our pantry (Thanks, Papa.) and everytime he spots them, he cries out "Mama! Toosie roll, peas." Finally, after he asked over and over again one evening, I told him he could have one if he did the tootsie roll dance for me. After a blank stare, I blurted out "Cotton candy, sweet as gold! Let me see you tootsie roll!" And what does my two-year-old son do? He starts shakin' it, of course. So fast-forward a few days and imagine my son in his bed, fussing because he doesn't want to go to sleep for some reason. This is rare for him; Trafton usually goes to bed easily-- plays for a while and then drifts off. For some reason, on this particular night, he just wouldn't let up. I went up to see what was going on. He looked at me, shouted out "Mama! Toosie roll!" and started dancing. Chris just shook his head...."That's YOUR child", he said.

He's silly, but he's sweet. We were playing "Seek" outside the other day after I got home from work. He holds my hand and says "wif me", instructing me to come with him. He leads me to the bushes and tells me where to hide. "I seek"-- he plans to come find me. But first? "Tight hug" and he squeezes me. Takes a few steps away and then runs back. "Tight hug! Again!" I hope he always finds it hard to leave his mama without a few good squeezes.

On Sunday, we were going to visit some precious friends and we came to a standstill on the interstate. Two firetrucks rushed past and then several state troopers. After a few minutes of waiting, I teared up. Before you laugh, let me explain. As we sat there, I was sure that someone was seriously hurt or even dead. I imagined us driving up to the scene and seeing a dead body. Then I thought of the family who would have to deal with it, and that's when the tears started to form. Trafton, always the observant little man, suddenly says "Mama! Better! Better, mama." I smiled weakly at him, then he looks up at Chris and instructs: "Daddy! Help, mommy!" Only 2 years old, and already taking care of his mama. When I was pregnant with him, my prayer was to have a compassionate child. I pray that his heart continues to grow and that he continues to watch over others.

Naked

You're blessed when you're content with just who you are- no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought. 

(The Message, Matt. 5:4)

I remember, in college, when I asked a newlywed friend of mine about married life. We talked specifically about intimacy and having someone see you without your clothes on. I remember saying "No way! I will never be comfortable enough with another person to let them see me naked." This friend assured me that she used the feel the same, but because of her husband's heart and the covenant that they shared, she was free. She would even walk around the house naked. 'What?!' I thought, 'I will never be able to do that!'

Then you have babies, and all modesty/concerns about your body FLY OUT THE WINDOW. Poor Chris- I'm surprised he hasn't lost his sight after seeing me in certain situations. Puke, poop, blood...nothing seems to rattle him. He helps me without laughing (or by making me laugh, if it's the right situation) and doesn't think twice.


I know another woman who once told me that her husband had never seen her without makeup. I'm sorry....come again?! I must've misheard you. I thought that you said your spouse had never seen you made up. Holy moly. Again, poor Chris. He claims that he likes the way I look without makeup. Put your glasses back on, is what I tell him.

It's funny: we are so critical of ourselves. We dissect the way that we look and how we present ourselves to the outside world. We compare and wonder if we look as nice as the next woman. But reality is this: God watches me walk around "naked". He sees ALL of my flaws and doesn't think twice. Cellulite on my legs, or the flaws of my human heart. It doesn't matter- He still believes that I am worthy. I don't have to paint my face, shave my legs, or straighten my hair. I do these things because they help me feel comfortable, but I know that I am worth more. Make up, hair, clothes do not define me. My flabby skin, my increasing wrinkles and my scars are all reminders; they are reminders of where I have been and all that I have conquered. They are symbols of where God has taken me and what He has brought me through.

Christmas Eve

Best parts of today:

- Realizing that I am stronger than I thought: woke up sicker than yesterday, and I knew Christopher had to go to work. Two kids, a cold, and rainy weather are no fun, but we made it. Watched movies, played games, and snuggled.

- Seeing my son's heart and loving it: I teared up while talking to Chris on the phone. (It's hard enough to be away from your love for 24 hrs; try being sick and being away from him on Christmas Eve. Boo.) Trafton ran over to me and, no kidding, this is what he said: "Hey, Mama! Hey!" (big smile on his face) "Better! Try!" (hands on my face, then gives me a hug).

- Loving the generosity of others: My sweet neighbor stopped by today with cookies that she had made. They were delish and it was so nice to see another smiling (adult) face.

- Walking outside to find stillness and peace: I went to get the mail and it was foggy and quiet outside. Truly, I couldn't hear anything. I thought about Mary and Joseph on their trek to have the baby Jesus. Christmas is different now, as an adult and as a mother. Yes, it's lost some of it's worldly magic (Santa, reindeer, etc.) but it's so deeply meaningful. This is the day that God chose to give us Christ; He let Mary give birth to this little baby who would save us. He gave us Jesus, even though He already knew what heartbreak lay ahead. 

In the wake of the Connecticut shootings and now the disaster in New York, I personally believe that some people are missing the point. Gun control, mental health struggles, lack of quality parenting...everyone wants to blame someone or something. Truly, these things need to be addressed. But these are not the root of the problem. I believe that our country needs a shift, or a moral revolution. We need to follow the Lord's example and be willing to sacrifice for others. We need to stop and listen, to feel for direction before we react. Fortunately for us, God gives us Jesus this Christmas. He serves as our shining light in this dark world...

Shine Your light so all can see it
Lift it up, 'cause the whole world needs it
Love has come, what joy to hear it
He has overcome
He has overcome
(David Crowder)

Random thoughts, part 2

What is it with perfume/cologne commercials?! And it seems to get twice as bad during the holiday season. Am I supposed to desperately wish for a bottle of your perfume because there are half naked, modelesque people in your ad who gaze longingly at one another and/or roll around in ocean waves? Or should I rush out and buy something because Britney Spears experiences a life-changing "vision" with her soul mate on the other side of the hotel wall?? I just can't stand the cheesiness.

You know one thing that I love about the holidays (other than the birth of our savior, fires in the fireplace, and gift-giving)? Food with friends. Wonder who the first person was to ask a friend to share a meal. I ate lunch with a dear one today and it's so good for my spirit. Maternity leave has a way of making you feel trapped and antisocial at times. LOVE my babes, but it's nice to get out once in a while. I remember being excited about a trip to CVS after having Trafton; I actually called a best friend on the way and told her how thrilled I was about making the five-minute trek to the drug store.

Stories that I've heard all my life have taken on a new meaning. Trafton's new favorite book is "Piggies!" or The True Story of the Three Little Pigs. If you haven't read it, it's written by the Wolf. He basically excuses himself from any wrongdoing by explaining that he had a cold and was sneezing (hence, "huff and puff"). He goes on to tell readers that he was making a cake and ran out of sugar (thus, he visited his neighbors, who happen to be pigs). I have read this book many times, but to read it with my son is hilarious. He loves for me to read with different voices for each character, and he has learned the story. He anticipates certain parts, and looks at me expectantly right before one of his favorites. He belly-laughs and squeals. I would read it all day long if he wanted to.

Once again, I am reminded of how old I am :) I have a shopping hangover this morning. Seriously felt like I was back in college last night. My saint of a husband stayed at home with another hubby, while his wife and I went to Christmas shop. Well, except we wound up finding great deals for ourselves. We eventually got around to finishing our holiday shopping. About 11:00, when we finished shopping, we went through the drive through at McDonalds. It felt like I was in college again; when I returned home, I snapped back into mommy-mode as Chamblee needed to be fed at 1:30 am. Spent some quiet time with my girl and finally went to bed at 3:00. This morning came EARLY!

*************************************************************************************

All the randomness aside, I heard of the Connecticut shootings  as I drove home from visiting my parents. My first thought? Sickening nausea and a sinking heart for all of those parents. Second thought? If we could afford it, I would keep my babies at home and teach them myself.

So many folks are advocating stricter gun laws and citing that as the reason this happened. Some think that if this young man did not get his hands on a gun, this could have been prevented. Unfortunately, Satan is crafty and this would have transpired despite what our country's laws dictate. Evil is abundant and it is HEART-BREAKING and terrifying. Guns can be completely outlawed and folks will still get their hands on weapons. Drugs are illegal and people still seem to find plenty of them to use. My husband asserts his right to protect our home and our family- through prayer, love, and perhaps owning a gun; the situation in Connecticut makes me agree.

Dear Lord- we ask you to wrap your ginormous arms around all the parents of those sweet slain babies. And pour your love on the families of the teachers who protected their little ones. Give comfort to the first responders who witnessed horrific evil and proceeded bravely nonetheless. Help us all remember that you are SOVEREIGN. These sweet souls are angels- dear ones that help the rest of us realize how precious life is and how we can only depend on You. We love you, God. Amen.