Back to Life, Back to Reality....

That's the only phrase I can recall from that song. But it speaks loudly to what I've been experiencing these last few days. Marshall and I were able to attend a conference in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, ALONE. No kids, just us. That meant, sleeping through the night, exercising when we wanted to, at the same time even, getting just myself ready and out the door (I even wore eyeshadow, something that never happens here!), eating out with colleagues and having adult conversations all day long. It was such a refreshing time, though full of learning and interacting, it was different.

I really did miss the kids while we were away. I would show my new friends pictures and tell them stories, when they asked for them. We were so excited when we got home and Marshall's dad was going to bring them to us. He was minutes later than we had talked about, so I started to pace the floor and look out windows, ready to see, to touch, to kiss my babies. Then they came. It was a joyful reunion, excitement, smiles, hugs, "I missed my mommy!" comments over and over.

Then, also with them came reality. We didn't set up an ease in schedule where we could get back one child at a time until we got used to them again. I found myself floundering a little--"What do I do?" I had gotten so used to being on my own, I had to rethink some things for a couple of days. Along with the reality came some frustrations and disappointments...being late for preschool because I had to get four people ready and I had slept in (my response--throwing a shoe and breaking one of my window blinds, cursing the red lights and slow drivers on the way, shaming myself and my children for making us late); I forgot Eliza's lunch on lunch bunch day (I didn't even make one), I found out that I had signed up for a Fall Party in each class, no one could come to Psalter's original birthday party so I had to change everything, the dryer duct kept falling off turning our back room into a sauna, the house was a total disaster all week....

So, as I sped up again and filled my time with busy work, I continued to feel overwhelmed and out of control. Finally, by the end of the week I started to see again. I started to see my neighbors and talk with them, I started to spend time with each of my children individually and I chose time with the Lord over busywork or talking with friends. I realized that what I experienced in the previous paragraph was not reality, but me living out of my flesh (my fears, disappointments and my shame). The true reality is that Christ lives in me. Since He is alive, I can do all these things through Him. Praise the Lord that He is sovereign and gives me a gazillion chances to choose Him over my flesh. So today as I went to two different stores, with three kids, in the rain to look for flower girl shoes, I praised the Lord for the rain and for my three precious children that stomped through the puddles and made many people smile, including me.

EEEEk!!!!

I saw it! It was little and black. It scurried across the floor in the blink of an eye. I was sitting on the couch in the living room when I saw it. My heart started pounding, "did I really see it? Was it just my imagination, just the lighting?" I would hear a sound..."was that a squeak?" I ran to the back of the house to find a trap, the whole time watching my back. Like it's going to jump out at me and take revenge for his cousin Rufus or his aunt Rosie. (Don't ask me where I got the names, they just sounded like mice names).

As I rummaged through several boxes I started to laugh at myself. I'm afraid of something smaller than the palm of my hand. Or am I afraid of what it represents? I remember the episode of Friends (underline) when Ross goes to his girlfriend's apartment, which is completely nasty. Food everywhere, stuff everywhere, no where to make-out. I'm thinking, "Is my house like that? Dirty enough for a mouse. I know there are cherios stuck on the floor and some crumbs under the table but..." Phew, I find the trap, stick some peanut butter on it. I make it snap. My heart saddens for the poor creature that chose my house this night. I start to think about all the sweet mouse movies like Stuart Little (underline) and The Rescuers (underline-pitiful, I know). Those were sweet mice that did a lot of good.

Oh well, my mercy runs short when it comes to finding droppings in my pantry and sticky urine on my silverware (I'm not joking). Sorry little mouse. You are a marvelous creation of the Father, but not fit for my house. I wish you had stayed outside and I hope you stop taunting me with little squeaks and moans from behind the stove. I will wait for the SNAP!, I will squirm and feel sad for a moment, then I will get Marshall to take you outside to join the "others."

This Potty Train is NOT Moving!

Yes, that's right. I have an almost 3 year old (in two weeks)who is not AT ALL interested in potty training. In fact a couple of months ago she WAS interested in wearing panties. She had been starting to dress herself and show more independence in other ways too, just like her older sister had when she was ready. So...I started to get excited and said, "Well, if you want to wear panties, you have to go pee-pee in the potty." Pretty self explanatory, you'd think. We even went to the potty to practice. She sat down and got up exclaiming, "I did it, I went potty." Well, hopeful thinking as I looked in to find it dry as a bone, nothing, nada, zilch.

So we proceeded through our day in panties. Several times I walked through puddles on the floor and carpet. Each time I'd check her panties, yes they were wet, so we changed them and talked about how she needed to run, run, run to sit on the potty when she started feeling them get wet. "Okay, mommy!" she would say. And then it would happen again. After the sixth pair of underwear and making her help me clean up the messes and showing her how to sit on the potty, I said, "Okay, Psalter, let's not wear panties and when you start to feel wet down your legs, run to the potty." I had heard that this worked for some moms, so I decided to try it. Well, needless to say, I walked into the living room a while later, to a very familiar stench (only this time it was not enclosed in a diaper). I found the two culprits, on the carpet--NICE--. Several toys were mashed inside. Yeah, those got thrown away. And yes, that was it for potty training. I found the wipes and a diaper and I covered that naked bottom.

Now that she is in a preschool class, I had hopes that some of her younger classmates (who are already potty trained) would rub off on her. But no such luck, yet. I asked her a few weeks ago when she wanted to be a big girl and use the potty. She responded, "Mommy I am a big girl!" "Yes, Psalter, you are, but grown up girls learn to use the potty." She said, "Mommy, I want to be a grown up and still wear a diaper!" I felt like retorting, "Well in a few years you'll have to hire someone to wipe you and change you because at 5 years old, I'm done!!" I'm not really stressed about it. In fact, it's more stressful potty training. I sort of dread the big grocery stores where you're in the middle, with a full cart of merchandise and three kids and one of them says, "Mommy, I've got to go potty." And they mean, NOW! So, I don't mind keeping her in diapers for now, it's pointless to teach her before she's ready. Besides, I don't know that I want my little girl to grow up quite yet.

Things I'm Realizing I Like About Myself...because it's me!

I'm always late--at least by 5-10 min., if not more. It doesn't matter how early I start out. I'm still on "African time!"

I cry (more like sob) while watching things like: The Biggest Loser, ABC's Home-Makeover show, Rudy and Baraka Boys (must watch!). Oh, and also, those commercials for "help this child for only 20 cents a day..."

Most of my wardrobe is from yard sales, hand-me-downs, thrift stores or clearance racks.

I put the music on, when it's just me and the kids and we dance like crazy. (I don't know if I should be offended that they laugh at me).

I love deep theological discussions.

I'm naive enough to run (at night) after one of the neighborhood prostitutes to make sure she knows that Jesus loves her and she can come over anytime to talk.

I'm more comfortable serving others than being served.

I know when a waiter or waitress is "in the weeds." I love to encourage them and leave them a nice tip.

I love to travel--especially by air. I love airports, watching people and eavesdropping on their conversations or striking up one with the person beside me, but usually eavesdropping.

I love to make things like mosaics and cards.

My love language is time.

I get embarrassed for people, even in movies. I cringe in pain for people like Michael Scott from "The Office" or movies like "Kiss the Girl" when Drew Barrymore makes a fool out of herself in many situations. Sometimes I've had to leave the room because I can't take it anymore.

I love going to or watching Carolina football and basketball games and NASCAR races with my husband. I even watch the games or races on TV when he is out of town.

I'd rather talk to people face to face than over the phone or e-mail.

I'm invigorated with a run or walk outdoors.

I enjoy simple things in life: an orange moon, a star sprinkled sky, the calm before the storm, then the storm, walking barefoot through squishy mud or a creek, the wind in the trees, the fresh scent of spring flowers.

I love to roll down a grassy hill, holding my children, listening to them and myself giggle with glee all the way to the bottom. Then hearing, "Let's do that again!"

And lastly, not that this is all, but for now: I'm so thankful that my heart is (usually) open for God's continuous work, shaping me, refining me and allowing Him to love my family and friends through me.

***I still haven't figured out how to underline things on this site, so excuse all the errors. I'm technologically slow. :)

Somebody Slap Me...Please!!!

So this last week or so with my kids has been great. I've been submitting to the Lord, dealing pretty well with my daily junk and being nice to my kids. Actually, I've really been enjoying them. Especially Jacob because he's still a mystery and exploring everything. I've been quite smitten with him, really, maybe because he's probably the last one.

So back to the slapping part. Yeah, someone needs to because I've been thinking the last few days..."I think I could have another...I think I might want one more..." AM I CRAZY? AM I KIDDING MYSELF??? So someone talk some sense into me. The last time I felt this way I was already pregnant....

Cute Things Kids Say...

After we dropped off Vicky, one of our neighborhood friends, at the shelter to eat Eliza asked: Mommy, why do we have to drive people places? Me: because some people don't have a car and can't walk that far. Eliza: why doesn't Vicky have a car?
Me: Some people don't have enough money to have a car. Eliza: Well, mommy, we have two cars, we could give one of ours to Vicky!
(oh the lessons we could learn from such sweet innocence!)

Psalter: "Pwinkle, Pwinkle wittle star..." "Mommy, I want a special pweat." (treat)

Psalter dropped something under her chair and screamed, "Argh, get it, mommy!!!" Eliza's response: "you have two legs, you pick it up." (where did she hear that?????)

Eliza while pretending to talk on the phone: "Hey Girl! Oh my gosh, you have got to be kidding. you cannot be so serious!! Oh my gosh!!"

Eliza: "Daddy, we have tongue bugs." Telling Marshall about taste buds.

Mommy: "When you learn how to spell you'll know what we're talking about."
Eliza: "Will the spell get broken later?"

"I have a bottom, but Jacob has a tail." Psalter to her Sunday school teacher.

Eliza: Jesus died for the cross for our sins. "Well, if that's what you say, I trust you God."

Eliza: Jesus asked us to have a sleepover in heaven with Him.

Psalter: A B C D E F G H I Jacob (singing)

Eliza: (sigh) I give up.

Eliza: I don't want to see your tummy, daddy. Marshall: why not? Eliza: because it's furry.

Psalter to a friend that came to visit: "my daddy and Jacob have peanuts!" "Do you have peanuts?" (BTW, he was a guy!)

Psalter reading her Bible: Jesus complained A LOT!! Diane: don't you mean the Jews?
Psalter: no, I mean Gropey. Diane: Who's Gropey? Psalter: One of Jesus' siples! (disciples)

Life is Worship

This is the inscription I read on the back window of a car as it merged onto I-85 near Durham the other night. I was driving back from visiting my mother-in-law and all was quiet in the car-so far, so good. I was listening to worship music and enjoying the dark night sky with the sprinkle of starlight...and the occasional deer (on the side of the road--fortunately for them and for me!).

After I read the sign I began to think about it--is my life worship? If I could look down and take a fragment of my day and watch it, would it look like worship? My first thought was from the "Accuser" (of course). "No, your life would not look like worship, but it would look disjointed, chaotic, anxious." That was a pretty accurate synopsis, at least for what my life has felt like lately. My responses to life, especially to my children, are often in anger, impatience, resentment, you name it. I hear myself trying to shame them into obedience, screaming at them, "Stop screaming and be quiet!!" That probably makes A LOT of sense to 3 and 4 year olds.

I was contemplating all of this and feeling like a huge failure because my life is not worshipful--to God anyway. Then the Lord spoke gently to me, "Diane, worship is not an act, but a state of your being." Meaning, I don't have to achieve or even give the act of worship, it is simply lived out by how I choose to live. Now I could choose to worship my flesh (which is the picture that I saw at the beginning), or I could worship God with my life by choosing to surrender to His control and by believing that what He says about me is true. As Romans 12:1 says, "Offer yourselves as living sacrifices (just as you are), holy and pleasing to God (I used to think this meant I had to attain holiness BEFORE I could worship---that's a hopeless thought, but I believe He's saying that offering yourself, as you are, IS holy and pleasing to God because it's recognizing Christ in us and living out of His holiness. That's what He wants from us, giving Him complete reign so that He can live out of us)...THAT is your spiritual act of worship."

So, yes, my life is worship, whether its worship of God as I surrender to His love and sovereignty in my life, or it's worship to my flesh, which only brings disaster and the need for God's grace and mercy. Godly worship, essentially, is a continuous broken heart before God--THAT is my spiritual act of worship--acknowledging the need for Him as my LORD!