Samwise Gamgee, again

 I have been reading old blog postings the last couple of days. Re-learning the beautiful lessons that God taught me years ago and being so very glad that I wrote them down! 

When I wrote this I had only been having seizures about 2 years. We had never dreamed that I would someday have a service animal, but I am positive, looking back, that God gave Andy this revelation for my future need of my Samwise seizure dog.

(This is just a silly picture of him “dressed” as a super hero after a bath)

So much has changed in our physical world since I wrote this.
I suppose things have changed spiritually too - hopefully we have continued to grow and mature.
But what stood out to me is that this lesson stays the same. We need our supporter, our helper, always.

 Keep seeking that!


Tue, July 13, 2010
We watched Lord of the Rings, Return of the King today - just because. (Truthfully, I need to read the book. I am almost embarrassed to admit that I haven't!)

We had played outside in the morning, before the heat and humidity became unbearable. The boys had worked some puzzles, and later woke daddy up. (He's on late shift again, so sleeping til 12 is the way it works around here...) 

But it was 12, and they were bored, and a movie seemed an appropriate idea for a lazy summer afternoon. 

Daddy watched some of it with them. I got to sit for portions also. But my boys sat and soaked up every minute. 

I am pretty sure that every moment that I watched made me cry. The rallying cry for the men of Rohan to "ride for honor and freedom". The ghost warriors earning their ability to rest in peace after finally fighting as they had promised in life. Arwen stepping out from behind the banner to greet Aragorn, the new king and her true love. 

Near the end, when Frodo is hanging off the edge of the precipice and Sam entreats him not to let go, I commented to Andy and the boys that even though the evil of the ring had captured Frodo's mind and heart for a while, his friend had stood by him. We need our friends to back us up. 

Andy thought about the movie for a minute and said "Really, Sam is like the Holy Spirit". Throughout the movie, he is the quiet voice encouraging Frodo. He tries to help him make the right choices. He carries his food, and blankets. He uncovers his face so he can breathe again when the spider captures him. He even carries Frodo up the hill to the fire of Mount Doom. But -he can't carry the ring. Nor could he throw the ring away. Frodo had to do it. He had to make that decision himself. 

We have an encourager, who travels with us everywhere we go. Trips as simple as the grocery, or as distant as the moon. He gives us advice - what to say, how to respond, reminders to smile rather then scowl and to swallow rather then scream. However, we have to make the decision to follow that advise. We have to "throw the ring". 

The longer Frodo carried that ring, the heavier it got. It left marks around his neck, and began to scar his mind. Sin does the same thing to us. Especially a sin we favor. "It's not a big deal"... "No one really notices"... "It doesn't hurt anyone"... "It's not even mentioned in the Bible"... 

You know what I am talking about. Those little nudges that the Spirit says "stop", and the marks are your neck are getting bloodied from, but still, you continue to do. 

Listen to your Sam. Throw away the ring. 

I really didn't get on here planning to preach tonight. I just wanted to talk about how much I love my hubby's ability to find the Holy Spirit in an action movie. But, sometimes my fingers just type, and someone else is doing the talking - so, whoever needed to hear this, blessings. Throw the ring in, and feel the release from around your neck. 

And remember, not only do you have a friend in your Sam (the Holy Spirit), I promise that you have me too.

Stay on the boat?

The story of Jesus calling to his disciples, pulling them away from what they knew and what they were comfortable with, has always been exciting for me. The chance to go and follow Him is beautiful. Stirring. Inspiring. 

 I wanted to be James and John, Simon and Andrew, walking away from the boat that I already knew how to navigate. Learning something more. 

 But until yesterday I had never given Zebedee much thought. I respected him, for raising men that were willing to walk away and brave enough to try something scary, but truly, I hadn’t really given him much thought. 

 Yesterday this verse reached out and grabbed me when it was on the “highlight” list of a woman I respect a lot. It made me ask questions of myself. 

 Then, when it was a part of my “assigned” reading this morning, I figured it was time to really give it some attention. 

 When is it time to be Zebedee? 

 Sometimes, are we supposed to just stay behind, on the boat? 

 My boys are becoming men. At 16 and 14, their ability to make decisions isn’t fully mature and the strength of their convictions is not done growing. They have so much more to learn still, about Jesus, and people, and right vs wrong and the blurry place in the “middle” that confuses us all at some point. 

 But they are becoming men. 

 Right this minute I think I might be having a Zebedee moment. 

 The book of Mark doesn’t say if he argued with them, encouraged them, or simply sat quietly while they walked away. Did he want them to be brave? Did he know they were about to be part of something that changed the world?

 I have to assume, knowing the rest of the story, that he was a man who was seeking after God. What could he do other than hand those boys of his over to Jehovah?

 I have always wanted to be one of the disciples, but right this minute I just want to be strong enough to be Zebedee. 

 When are we called to stay on the boat? 

 I don’t know the answer to that question, but I want to learn. 

 I want my boys to be each a “man after God’s own heart”, like David. 

 Not perfect. None of us find perfection. 

 But aware of their calling, aware of their faults, aware of their Savior. 

 I will continue to pray over them, forever. I will offer them advice when they are willing to hear it, forever. But I cannot be what makes them. I cannot be what holds them. I cannot. 

 So I will seek to be as strong as Zebedee, and listen to my Savior when I am called to stay on the boat. 

 Join me?

Don't blink!

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away....

(Also known as California...)

 When I was a brand new military wife, at our first duty station, and far away from my family, there was another military wife who took me under her wing. She was an "older woman" (probably 32, which at the time seemed so very old) and had two children, probably ages 12 and 2. She seemed to be in such a different world then I was. She knew military terms, had survived deployment, and raising children, and trying to be a mother, wife and employee, all at the same time. These were new to me, and she made them all seem like something I could survive.

 She took the time to introduce me to ideas. She had us over for dinner. I babysat her toddler a few times.

 I had my 23rd birthday right around the time that I met her, so I wasn't a child, but she seemed so much older then me.

 This week I realized that I am now her.

 I am the older wife, who has survived deployment, and military moves. I have raised kids in multiple locations, and learned how to make friends wherever I am. I have seen the ability to communicate with a deployed husband evolve, along with the conflicts he has been part of. (Any other of you "old wives" remember when our men had to wait in line to use a phone, with a 15 minute time limit, and video calls weren't even invented yet?)

 I am an experienced military wife, who has lived in both the enlisted and officer world, both the Air Force and Army.


 I got a reminder of my age a few days ago and it was quite striking.

 I recently mentioned the bible study group I am part of, about being a mom. One of my ladies missed our group time last week and I knew her husband was currently deployed, so I texted her, just to check in. Turns out she had ended up in the hospital several times, dehydrated, from Hyperemesis, which is basically really bad morning sickness. Or, in reality, all day sickness.
 I already had a soft spot for her. This is her first base, first pregnancy, first deployment.... she has a lot going on in her life right now. Adding Hyperemesis simply broke my heart for her.

 But one of my best friends had Hyperemesis during her pregnancy, so I had a walking encyclopedia, ready at hand. I tried to educate myself, and offered my morning to help her out. She needed food that was more likely to stay down (and less damaging if it comes back up) and was feeling too yucky to drive for the last few weeks, so I took her to the grocery, pushed her cart and loaded the heavy water bottles. Super easy, mindless help, mostly just so she would have company.

 While we were out Canaan called, to ask what he could have as a snack. After I hung up I joked with her, about my 13 year old always being hungry. Her response, "My 13 year old brother is exactly the same way!" gave me pause though. Her having a brother the same age as my son suddenly made me feel extremely old. And made me realize that she was probably very, very young!

 I was right.

 She is very, very young.

 When I turn 38 in May I will be double her age.

 She is only 6 years older then my son.

 And I suddenly realized, I am very old. :)


 I can't remember the name of the woman who helped me, all those years ago. Facebook had not been invented yet, and we both moved multiple times with military life and lost touch through the years. Her toddler that I babysat, Jacob, would probably be a junior in high school this year.

 The reminder that time flies is fresh.

 The importance of taking the time to enjoy every moment is pressing.

 Don't blink!

 15 years ago I couldn't have imagined the path we would have taken to end up here. There have definitely been some moments that I stressed too much in the midst of.

 But, all these years later, I am so full of memories; of moments that are worth remembering, and celebrating, and rejoicing in what we learned through them, even if they were difficult in the middle.

 I am thrilled to be the "older woman".

 Let's hope I can live what I have learned in a way that is helpful to these new, young, excited military wives. :)

Blessings,

Bethany

Listening

 I love how God reminds us that we don't know as much as we think. 

 

 Over and over again :)

 I am currently "facilitating" a ladies bible study on parenting. That is not the same as teaching - I am supposed to just keep it organized; ask questions, encourage others to speak, make sure we end at the proper time each week. 

 I called to volunteer with PWOC (Protestant Women of the Chapel) for this semester less then two weeks before it was supposed to begin. I had been involved over the last several semesters, (making up for the lost time of the first 13 years of military life having never even heard of it) but hadn't been asked to facilitate again over Christmas break so assumed it was time for me to do something else. 

 Then I realized that they may not have asked me because I missed the last 6 weeks of the fall semester, in GA for family stuff, and they might think I was still out of town. So I called, just to check, and the adorably cheerful and enthusiastic coordinator bubbled over with passion talking about the classes they had chosen for this upcoming semester and which ones they still needed facilitators for... and I was hooked, of course.

 I don't think I would normally volunteer to lead a group on parenting. I am still in the middle of it. 

 On the flip side of that, I have been practicing for 14 years now, and I am still in the middle of it. I have been part of some amazing classes taught by women who have completed a phase in their life and are passing along the wisdom they have gained. However, sometimes the wisdom you need passed on is still being learned. 

 So, here I am, passing on what I am still in the middle of learning.  

 Because I am very much still learning. 

 And we will come back to that....

 I know most of you are FB people. I link this blog to FB, and that is where most people read it, and comment on it. With that in mind, most of you know that FB and I are often not friends. I am a lover, not a fighter. I seek joy, and desire to pass it along. I want to find the good in every situation. 

That is sometimes hard to do in a digital world, where everyone feels free to vent their frustrations loudly, and passionately. The reality of those passions, the pain they can and DO cause, is easily missed. Because digital words just don't seem as real as spoken ones, and things that I think people I call friend would never speak loudly and forcefully in person are typed in BOLD letters with multiple exclamation points. 

 My ability to find the good, to seek the joy, to pass along the love.... well sometimes it just gets overwhelmed. 

 Simple truth: I got my feelings hurt. 

 A generalization was made. People were lumped together in a group. I felt accused of being hateful, and uncaring, and mean, simply because of one choice. 

 And I got angry. 

 Which is rare, and complicated, and confusing. I don't know what to do with anger.  

 Then I got defensive. 

 I was listing things in my head to prove I was a good person. 

 Not just a good person, a better person then the person who had made the comment. 

 A loving person. 

 A giving person.

 A Godly person. 

 I was thinking of ways to type up how good I was. To show that I was worthy of love. Those words just ran around in my head, lists of my qualities, for days. 

 My identity was threatened. 

 Then God reminded of me of a simple truth. 

 I love how He does that, right when we need it. 

 Canaan and Zion were playing video games, like every afternoon. I was washing dishes and prepping for dinner like every afternoon. My worship music was playing on my iPad and life was outwardly calm. 

 Then suddenly, life was not calm. Zion was storming off and telling his brother to "BE QUIET" and Canaan was practically yelling the "SHUSH" sound, and listening to each other was not a desired goal. Listening was replaced completely with expressing their own opinions. 

 Both of their own opinions were healthy, and worth listening to. However, if both of them wanted only to speak, and not to listen, then neither one was going to be heard. 

 I launched into the automatic mom speech about taking turns, and listening to those around you, and sometimes putting your own opinions aside for a few moments. Then I stopped, in the middle of my speech, looked Canaan in the eyes and said, "You never get to stop learning this lesson, and it never becomes easy". Because I realized that truly, that is what I was doing. Listing my own opinions and arguments in my head. 

 They were worthy arguments, with some points that I am absolutely convinced of. 

 However, my own worthy arguments can't be heard if I am speaking at the same time as someone else. Their own worthy arguments can't be heard either. 

 All we are doing is both speaking at the same time, yet hearing nothing and learning nothing. 

 Obviously, the internet allows both to speak at the same time. 

 But, if neither of us, if none of us, take the time to listen to the words others are speaking, then absolutely nothing will be accomplished. 

 We all get to vent our feelings and express our passions. Facebook is wonderful for that. 

 

 But are we actually learning anything? Are we actually even trying? 

 By now, we all know that there are quite a few different opinions. Quite a few different ways of expressing them, too. There are, absolutely, always, going to be people who disagree with us. (Sometimes, just because they want to) 

 

 My feelings are still hurt. I am pretty sure they will get hurt again. 

 I still have my own opinions. Pretty sure people disagree with me. 

 

 But, I get to make my own choices, to go with those opinions. 

 Listening. 

 That is my choice. 

 I am trying. 

 And those beautiful children that God gave me will continue teaching me what I need to know while I try to teach them the same. One day at a time.

The end of the season

Soccer, soccer, soccer.

 It has felt at times recently that we have lived and breathed soccer. Most of the time we enjoyed it. But honestly, I am so happy for the season to be over that I could almost, well, I don't know what I could almost do, but that is what you are suppose to say. Almost scream? Almost cry? Almost pee your pants?
 Either way, I am undeniably relieved to have reached the end.

I am one of those annoying moms who brings their own camera to the "official" picture day.... then doesn't buy any. Sorry professional people. I don't mean to be hateful - just cheap!

It is a big field, and my camera isn't that fancy, but I got a few good shots of Canaan. 

Before the haircut

 He may be defense, but he can be encouragement too!

 Stop that ball!

And make sure nothing has disturbed the new "fauxhawk" - hair is everything, don't you know!

 The Power Rangers

A little close to be the "official" picture, but I like seeing his adorable face!

And Zion -

 This is one of my favorite shots - an entire row of children. 

Just running. 

Chasing a ball. 

In a line. 

He loves to be in motion.

 Zion getting to throw the ball in,

 and for anyone who knows the rules of soccer... the fact that I can see his head wayyyy above the other children's... oops! (both feet are supposed to stay on the ground- but at that age they don't call them out on it) At least he is enthusiastic!

My Zi, the little care-giver. This picture is so blurry, but I love to see his kind heart!

He just looks so serious.

The cheering section (or sideline coach, depending on the moment) who avoids the camera like the plague.

It was fun. It was busy. It was exciting. It is over.
Life is good.

Hope you are entering your Thanksgiving season with something peaceful like the end of soccer season to be thankful for!

Blessings, 

A day that almost caused a cuss word

Today was a rough day.
Simple stupid little things, but they just kept coming.

 My basket full of supplies (junk) that I carry everywhere, "just in case" fell out of the truck and spilled everywhere. Things started rolling down the hill into the neighbors yard!

 But, it made me clean it out. I kept the sunscreen, even though summer is over, and the tylenol and chapstick. Emergency sewing kit, first aid kit, goldfish and granola bars. But the cloth napkins needed to be refreshed. Time for clean ones. Same with the emergency fork, knife and spoon. The juice box at the bottom was a flavor no one liked and the straw wrapper just needed to go in the trash. And seriously, I think 6 books are a few too many. Zion and I cut it down to three.
 So that annoyance was turned into something useful.

 We made it back inside after our busy morning away and realized that we had left the kitchen a disaster. As I carried a glass jar of bacon grease (from our authentic German potato salad) to the trash can - of course it slipped out of my hands and shattered all over the floor.

 Not just broken glass.

 Broken glass covered in bacon grease.

 And two seconds into cleaning the phone rings.

 The man Andy had arranged to come pick up some car parts was outside, calling to let me know he was here.

 Sigh.

 Glass all over the floor.

 Grease all over my hands.

 And car parts to load up.

 Thankfully, I had met the man and his wife before. I told them the situation and they were very willing to wait patiently while I cleaned up the mess. Their only grand-daughter is in college already, so I think they enjoy a few minutes with my boys once in awhile.

 But goodness how frustrating it was.

 However....

 It made me steam clean the floor. Not just talk about it.

 The soccer practice schedule had been changed, which made the regular "schedule" of supper complicated.

 Cleats decided to have an exceedingly difficult knot.

 My brand new infusion site decided to slip and HURT every time I moved while at soccer practice.

The rough day just kept staying rough.

 But the knot came undone. Supper was thrown together and even had enough leftover to feed Canaan again after practice. The infusions site was changed, again. A pain in the butt, literally, but it is working, which is what matters. And I was reminded that without it I would be dead. So even if it hurts every once in awhile, I really shouldn't complains!

 All this to leads to my quotes of the day;

 "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be." C.S. Lewis

 Which is followed by;

 "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths." Proverbs 3:5-6

 Half way through the day I was actually asking God what I had done wrong to deserve all of this. And now I have to laugh. Because broken glass, tangled shoelaces and a pain in the butt diabetes... well, I really don't think those are worth worrying about!

 Besides... I had chocolate too. He had blessed me with the pre-planning to make brownies- available just when I needed them.

 God is good!

Blessings, 

Starving!

 I had a moment today when I thought perhaps I didn't want to be a homeschool mom any more.
 At least, not to a stubborn red-headed six year old.

 At 11:30 he told me he was starving. Since he hadn't finished his breakfast until 8:30 I knew he wasn't going to die. I told him when he finished his handwriting we would have lunch.
 All he had to write was the date and the verse of the week:
 Monday, August 27, 2012  "Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved. Acts 16:31"

 It was printed for him. All he had to do was write it below, to practice his letters.

 But for some reason, some small voice in the back of his head declared "Don't do it."

 I told him that he couldn't eat until it was finished.

 He wrote "Mon".

 Canaan and I ate lunch.

 He got up and wondered around the room.

 I fussed at him to get back in his seat.

 We had a staring contest, in which I insisted that I really was the boss, and that he was not going to eat until he did was he was told. Even if he was "Starving".

 I called his dad and left a voice-mail.

 He finished "Monday"

 I called my mom and nearly cried.

 He wrote "Aug"

 It was now 1:30...

 2 hours!!

 He hadn't eaten. He hadn't gotten any other school done. I was so frustrated with him that I had gotten very little done with Canaan.

 My mom had my dad call and encourage him, but first she encouraged me.

 You see, I was so busy being frustrated with him, insisting that he obey, feeling like he was defying me...  I had forgotten to take the time to sit and listen to him.

 Perhaps that first 15 minutes really was simply rebellion. But when I sat with him I discovered that he was upset because his M was crooked. And he felt he had started on the wrong line, and now his u was not the right shape.

  He let his frustration compound until he wasn't in control of his emotions anymore.

 We erased the whole thing and started again.

 A clean slate.

 Working together we had it done in less then 10 minutes.

 He wasn't the only one who learned a lesson today.

 I was reminded that we all have moments of stubbornness. We all need a clean slate sometimes. And when we are willing to listen to the guide who desires to help us the work is so much easier.

 Why is it that my children end up teaching me just as much as I teach them?

 As last week's verse said, "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" Romans 3:23 We are well aware of that one.

And next week? We are working on the letter C. "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right." Eph 6:1

 We'll take that one on when it comes!

 For now, that power struggle has me exhausted. Time for bed!

 Blessings,

Speaking of Life and Death...

This is our hill

(we are on the left)

Looking down - we are about 1/8 of the way up the hill.

Looking up - still 7/8 left to go.

The boys and I walk to the top sometimes to find someplace flat to ride bikes. Then they can leave their bikes there and we walk another hill, exactly like this one, down to the mailboxes. 

Canaan rode his bike down the hill not too long ago, with success.

He slowed down often, in fact coming to a complete stop part way down. 

Unfortunately, I think it gave him a bit of a big head. 

This last time he tried coming down the hill, he did not have success.

 When he hit the gravel at the bottom he skidded out of control.

He managed to slide between the trailer and the big pile of construction refuse.

He jumped the smaller pile of construction junk, flipped, and landed, he thinks, on his back with the bike on top of him. 

There, where you can see the tall grass pushed down.

 I was walking down the hill holding tight to Zion's bike. (He insists on riding also, but as well as riding the brakes, he never gets to shake off the Mommy brake!) 

 So, I was several minutes behind Canaan. When I got to our driveway I expected to find him sitting on the porch, seeking shade. Instead, neither he nor his bike were in sight. I figured he was trying to ride in the gravel and dirt at the bottom of the hill. He hates it, but occasionally gives it a try. 

 Then, I hear "Mommy". In that trying not to cry, attempting to be brave but really just wanting to sob voice only an 8 year old has. 

 And I can't see him. I don't see his bike. I expect to see him wrecked in the gravel, and I can't see him. I can't find him. I am trying to be calm, "Canaan, Canaan" - but I am about to get to the panic mode, because I can't see him. I can't see him. Then I hear it again, "Mommy". And I am close enough this time to hear where it is coming from.

From the top of the ditch, he looks so far away. But, when I get there, he is standing up. So I go into "Reassurance mode". 

"Look, nothing is broken. You are standing up and your arms work." 

"Snif, Snif. I couldn't breathe for a minute."

"Yeah, I bet you got the wind knocked out of you. That's a big bike to have on top of you. I'm going to have to climb down in there and get you, aren't I. If I get poison ivy I am going to have to kill you child. You better hope there isn't any down here. Look, I'm even wearing flip-flops..."

 As I am climbing down, teasing him to distract him, I see this huge metal bar, (rebar maybe?) sticking out of a piece of concrete RIGHT NEXT to where he landed. And my heart nearly stopped. That could have been IN him, rather then beside him.

While I was dragging his bike out of the ditch, and freaking out because there was a definite crack in the top of his bike helmet, he went into the bathroom and started trying to clean up. I wanted to get a picture while he was still covered in mud. He must have been on his stomach at some point in time, because the front of his shirt was coated in mud too, as well as his arms, face, back of his shirt, well, everything. I snapped this into the mirror of the bathroom. Then I just laughed when I realized that he thought he was going to be able to clean up with a washcloth. Boys! Avoiding a shower if at all possible...

 He managed to come out of it with a black eye, a bruised leg, scraped knees and a bit of a sore stomach. That is all.
 That is all.
 We are so very blessed.

 He hasn't wanted to ride his bike again yet. We have talked the whole thing up as a huge adventure, trying to make sure there is no fear left there holding on to him. I think I will encourage him to ride his bike again soon, before he only has bad memories associated with it. But I don't know that I want him doing that hill again!
                                                                     Blessings,

Dads

Happy Father's Day... or perhaps, like my dear hubby said when he called his dad this afternoon, "Happy Mother's Day". (he still insists that he said Father's day, but both his dad and I insist that we heard mother...)

I have been very blessed to have fabulous men in my life, always.

My Daddy is in India this year for Father's day. He went to celebrate the 80th birthday of his friend, and has stayed now to mourn with him the passing of his amazing wife. Pain and joy so often go hand and hand. Understanding is not ours - at least not while we are here on this earth.

Sometimes I comfort myself by saying that "when I get to heaven I can ask God 'why'?". But truthfully, I think that when I get there, I will be too full of praise, and joy and celebration to remember any questions.

Lots of things hurt now, here on earth. So many questions don't have answers, and quite honestly, it is downright annoying. But, in the really big picture, how important are those questions?

As I said though, I have always had amazing men in my life.

My Papaw (my mom's dad) loved Jesus with such enthusiasm that it was contagious, and had a joy that poured out of him. I was only seven when he went into a coma, but my memories of him are strong enough that even at that young of an age he has influenced my entire life.

My Daddy Bill (my dad's dad) has been a constant. He is not the open and sharing type - I am not sure I have ever seen him show anything emotion stronger then a simple smile or frown. He may not be outward with his hugs and smiles, but he always made sure to ask about our school projects and summer plans. Rock steady and always there. Now the great grandkids are loosening him up a bit.

But my dad- he is amazing. He sometimes wanted to take after his dad, and try not to share his emotions. But my mom is very much her father's daughter. Everything in the open, good and bad, share it all equally. Then, they had four daughters. My poor dad was doomed. A house full of girls, with Sharp genes in them. Well, emotions were not going to be contained, that was for sure!

When we were growing up he would read us our bedtime story, and bible, and pray with us before bed. I have such wonderful memories of cuddling up to him, looking over his shoulder while he read. Even when I got too old to listen to stories, I would sometimes still curl up and listen while he read to my little sisters. The winter we spent in India he read the Hobbit. When I read it now to my boys, I still hear his voice.

He taught us about loving Jesus completely. He taught us to always be prepared for the future, but remember to live each day like it could be our last. He taught us responsibility. He taught us about trust, and love, and faith. Especially faith - those giant leaps of faith. He was, and is, a man who will step out, even when he can't see where his foot is going to land. That is sort of amazing actually, because my Dad was a computer programmer, boyscout, everything in it's place sort of guy before he met my Mom... and then met Jesus. Jesus asked him to give up a lot of his comfort zone. He still likes to organize his pencils "just so", and file his papers in exactly the right order... but when God said step out in faith, he did. And he continues to.

I am so very glad to have my daddy as an example.

One last story about him. When I was 19 I was feeling adventurous. I went with several of my friends in college and we all got belly button rings. Knowing how conservative my parents were, I was a little worried about what they would think. When my dad found out he didn't yell. He didn't even tell me that I shouldn't have done it. He only gave me a scripture verse, and told me to pray about it. " I can't remember now which one it was, either 1Pet 3:3, or 1Tim 2:9, but they both talk about a woman of God needing no outward adornment, jewels or fancy clothes, but rather being clothed in good works and a quiet spirit, etc. The belly ring only lasted about five days. I am not going to say that I think a belly ring is wrong in any way - but making my daddy think I wanted outward adornment more then a pure spirit - well, that was enough for me.

Thank you dad for teaching me about what is important, every single day.

Now I have another amazing man in my life. That father of my own children. And actually, HIS father too. I am so very thankful for my father in law. He did a wonderful job raising my husband to be a great husband and father.

Andy is currently digging through thousands of lego's to find the missing piece to a set they have been trying to build. That is devotion. That man loves his Savior, loves his country, loves his children, and thankfully, loves me too.

One day at a time, we are raising men who we pray will someday be amazing fathers also.

Murphy's oil soap

For anyone who is interested....

 Murphy's oil soap takes crayon right out of carpet. It really is amazing. Of course, you have to then take the steam cleaner to your carpet to get the Murphy's out... but at least it is the right color! And.... while you have the steam cleaner out, you might as well do the whole living room, right? 

 The answer to that is actually a big fat NO! (or as Canaan would say N.   O.   spelled out, one letter at a time) This time of year is entirely too busy for extras! Luckily, I have a fabulous husband, who took it upon himself to clean the carpet while I cleaned the children last night. He said it was even - he would "bathe" the carpet if I would bathe the kiddo's. I lucked out - he even had time to clean out the frog tank too. You know, I may get all the day to day yucky, thankless jobs, but he very willingly volunteers for the big chores, so I won't complain! 

 Another huge project we took on yesterday was cleaning the fridge. It has had a slightly funky smell coming from it for the last few days, and I have been randomly throwing away leftovers, hoping that would solve the problem. 

 It hadn't worked. 

 So, Andy pulled it out away from the wall so that I could open it wide enough to actually pull the drawers all the way out, and remove the shelves. I am pretty good at staying "on top" of keeping it clean, (I am slightly OCD) but it had been at least six months since it had been fully scrubbed, so it was time. We tossed slightly sour dairy products, overly ripe fruit, veggies with a hint of mushiness, more leftovers, even though there was nothing wrong with them. We changed the baking soda box. We washed EVERYTHING. In front, behind, above, below. 

 But my fridge still stinks. 

 That is really really frustrating! 

 If I don't figure out what it is soon, I am going to lose my mind! 

 Any suggestions? 

Thanksgiving Adventure

Our Thanksgiving day was wonderful, and I will have lot of pictures of it later, but we are still at my parents, and time is short. For now, I just wanted to share one story.
There is a saying I heard once, "It isn't really a holiday, until someone has called the Fire Dept." Well, we got to live that one on Thursday.
Late Thursday evening, after full bellies, washed dishes, several rounds of dominoes, and then some more eating, I set Zion in front of the television downstairs. All of the adults were upstairs, playing board games, talking on the phone, etc. I had checked on him once, but after a little while, Andy suddenly goes "Do you smell smoke?"
The answer to that question was a definite "YES". No parent ever wants to hear those words.
Andy and I both went running down the stairs. My parents have a gas heater in the basement, so our first assumption was that Zion had stuck something in the flame there. He has never touched it before, and knows he is not supposed to, but that was the first thought.... however, there were no charred remains of anything near the heater.
That made is a little more scary. If it wasn't the heater, now we started thinking electrical fire, hidden wires, something smoldering - So, I called 911. They, of course, tell us to evacuate the premises.
All of this had taken less than 5 minutes so far, and had included sending Canaan upstairs to find my Dad, (who was on the phone with his parents) and who came running with the fire extinguisher. It had also included sending Zion upstairs, where he had sat with Kelly, a friend of the family, and cried, and babbled, continiously. (We assume now that he was probably trying to confess... but she certainly couldn't understand what he was saying!)
Anyway, while I was looking for coats and shoes for our children to "evacuate" with, Andy, somehow, had the brilliant idea to open the microwave that my dad keeps in the basement to make hot tea with. This is what he found, after the smoke cleared....

It use to be a lint brush. It belonged to my great grandmother in the 1960's, and has been used to brush lint off clothing in our family for 5 generations. (yes, I am serious)
Now, it is charcoal.

I can promise you that it doesn't take long to turn plastic into charcoal in the microwave, because Zion was not down there by himself very long, and the microwave was not running when we starting smelling smoke and ran down there.

I called the Fire Dept. back immediately, and they didn't even come. The excitement was over. Now we just had to deal with the stink of burnt plastic.
Side note....The smoke detector didn't even go off!
That was our Thanksgiving adventure!

Miracle on 34th St.

It is official - my oldest is now a theater geek. Canaan proudly had his first ever speaking part in a theater production. On Friday and Sat. night Act 1 productions put on "Miracle on 34th Street", and he played "Jake", who sits on Santa's lap and asks for a fire truck. My dad has a video of it, but it isn't very clear. I may post it later, if I can clean it up a little.
Act 1 is sort of my Mom's "baby". My younger sisters got involved in theater, after I was already grown and gone, and Mom was a very involved parent. By the time they finished growing up, Mom was hooked. She is the producer, costume mistress and general "whatever needs done" lady, and has now managed to rope in her best friend, Eva Jo, and her two younger kids (who were the flower girl and ring bearer at my wedding!) into it too.
But, that wasn't enough. She needed a family member. Since Mary and Kelsey are too old, it was time to recruit the next generation. So, Canaan has crossed over to the dark side - or turned to the light - depending on who you talk to! HE LOVES IT! He has been here (at Mom's house) all week for tech week, and has gotten slightly spoiled. He has gotten to hang out with teenagers. I have discovered multiple pictures of him on Facebook, hanging out backstage with cute girls. Let me tell you, that is slightly disconcerting ~ to discover pictures of your five year old, with comments to go along with them, all over Facebook. Luckily, so far the manners I have "raised" him with seem to be proving themselves, and the stories I am hearing are mostly good, and all innocent. The only thing bad I have heard so far is that he drooled when he laughed, which with his allergies and the old building they had the play in, is not at all surprising!

Canaan especially loved the idea that he gets gifts after a show. We decided he probably wouldn't care for flowers, so he got matchbox cars, a Curious George book, and candy after his shows. I was definitely afraid he was going to be spoiled rotten!
However, he proved me wrong. Today was the last day to deliver the "Operation Christmas Child" shoeboxes, so we were wrapping them, and putting the finishing touches in them. I noticed that one of them still had some extra room, so I asked Canaan if he could share one of his extra toys. I suggested that he share the Lego I had gotten him when I went out of town last week, since he hadn't opened it yet. He had to think it over for a few minutes, and I didn't push, but in the end, he cheerfully shared.
So, I was super proud of how clearly he said his lines on Fri. and Sat. night. And I was thrilled that he cooperated nicely backstage with the older kids. But more importantly, I was just blessed by the fact that even after spending a week eating icecream every night and getting a toy out of the machine every time they went to the grocery ("It only costs two quarters!!" he cheerfully quoted) (and my Mom made sure to stop by at least every other day, just for him!) Canaan still has a spirit of generosity. That gives me joy.

Be Thankful. Be Blessed, Bethany

Spiders and Playdough and Fires, Oh My!

I feel slightly Dorthy-ish right this minute. This trip has hardly started, and already I am singing, "Oh my". I should be prepared for adventures by now, right? I did grow up a Binkley, and have spent the last 7 years as a military wife. Surely I should know....

Mom and I got less than 3 miles from my house when am ENORMOUS, HUMONGOUS, LIFE THREATENING, TEXAS SIZED (Okay, I might be exaggerating a tiny bit) spider dropped from the ceiling of her car directly in front of her face. While she was driving.
I think that if you were someone on the outside watching, it was probably a really funny thing to watch. She and I are both screaming. At first she thought it was a wasp, so she rolled down her window, and the wind is whipping through the car, blowing our hair, and the spider everywhere. Mom pulled the car over, and I jump out, grab Zion's coloring book out of his hands and run around to the drivers side. By this time the spider had crawled back up to the ceiling, and every time I try to swat at him, I miss, because I am standing outside the car, and he is conveniently curled up in a corner inside the car and I can't see him at all! Mom finally grabs the book and swats the thing out the door and I see him nonchalantly stroll away, like he hadn't a worry in the world.
So, I might have exaggerated his size a little, but he was big enough for me to see him nonchalantly stroll away - under the car - so I only exaggerated a little.

I suppose the whole incident only took about 90 seconds, but it sure was a heart pounding way to start the trip!

We met my sister and her husband for supper at the Sweet Tomato's at Barrett Pkwy. That is always fun, since Emilee can't actually eat anything, and Kevin doesn't eat vegetables. I guess they met us for supper, since they just sat and watched us eat! It was actually kind of convenient though, having extra adult hands. Emilee is getting all kinds of mommy practice! If nothing else, she is learning that once you have kids, you can no longer go anywhere without wipes in your purse.
Let me restate that. You can go places without wipes in your purse. I just don't recommend it.

Zion was sleeping when we got to Mom's house last night, so at 6:15 this morning he woke up and didn't know where he was, or how to find me. That was fun!
My Mom and Dad have put in a new hardwood floor in their kitchen since the last time I was here. (Which was actually a project that Emilee and Kevin did - aren't they good children?) They are beautiful. The floors look fabulous in her kitchen. I hate them.
Why you may ask? Because I have already had to pick playdough out of them with a toothpick, and I have been here less than 24 hours. Who knows what joyful and lovely junk my two year old will decide to stick in the beautiful decorative "cracks" next. My Mom's house isn't kid proof any more.

Last story... I promise.
I decided to make bread this morning. My dad has been in India all week, and my Mom has either eaten out or at a friends house pretty much the entire time, so there was in her fridge, exactly: 10 eggs, 8 mini yogurts, a bag of apples, multiple condiments,(ketchup, sour cream, mayo, etc) milk (expired) juice (expired), shredded cheese, cottage cheese (expired), a pack of tortillas. That's it. So, the expired milk smelled okay and I figured it would be fine in bread. I found a pack of yeast, some butter, eggs. I went out to the garage to grind some wheat in my Daddy's vita mix. I put the wheat in, turned it on, then went back inside. Then, I got distracted. Later, the phone rang. After about 10 minutes, I remembered.... THE FLOUR!!!!
The smell of burnt wheat is horrendous, in case you ever wonder. It is not the same as burnt bread. The machine just runs so fast, and so hard, that if you leave it running, it just disenegrates the wheat, and eventually burns it. I don't know why. I have done it before, and I will probably do it again. That is the price you pay sometimes for fresh ground wheat--- a really stinky garage.