Knock, Knock

The thing about teaching Bible stories to kids is, you just don't ever know what your gonna get. Sometimes it's magical. Sometimes it's chaos. Sometimes it's hilarious. Usually it's all of the above. Case in point: my class tonight. I teach kindergarten through 2nd grade and lately Kate (who is 4) has joined our class as she thinks she is too grown up for the nursery.

Tonight, we talked about God choosing a boy, Abraham. We talked about the plans God had for him and how it included leaving his home and his family. During the telling of this story I may have said, "Bottoms in your chairs" and "keep your chairs on the floor" 47 times. I also may have used bribery. Kate may have also found it relevant to share with us that she knows what a "tormado" drill is for. It may have been slightly more chaotic than spiritual. Then, we talked about God being with us wherever we go and that led to a discussion about having Jesus in our hearts. I wanted to make it clear that not everyone has Jesus in their hearts, that we have to ask Jesus to come into our hearts. One of the boys asked, "I have a door in my heart?" As you can imagine, this can be a tricky thing to explain to children. I jumped on the door idea and told them about the verse in Revelation 3:20a, "Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in". 

That led to Eli saying, "Knock, knock!" Of course we all answered, "Who's there?"

 He said, "Jesus."

"Jesus who?"

"Jesus who lives in your heart!"

Great, beautiful moment. That led to- "Knock, knock."  

Class-"Who's there?"

"Apple."

Class-"Apple who?"

Mrs. Emily- "Okay, we've got to get back to our lesson."   Thinking-'Was any of the last 15 minutes part of the lesson????'

I went on to ask the kids what we had to get out of our hearts to make room for Jesus to move in. 

"Sin!" answered the preacher's son. :)

So we talked about how we all have done bad things. Eli felt the need to talk about when other people do bad things.  "One time this boy flipped us the bird. And Kate asked, 'Where did he get a bird from?"

And Kate rolled her eyes, flipped her hair and said, "I just didn't know where the heck that bird came from!"

And I decided we should pray and go eat.

Chaos-check

Magical-check

Hilarious-check

Anyone who thinks Bible study is boring obviously doesn't do it with kids!!!!!

  

Sweet as Sugar

I've gone four weeks without sugar, y'all. I won't lie, I've had some temptation. We've had 2 church dinners with a table full of the best looking desserts you've ever seen. Last weekend Josh and I spent a night and a day teaching a youth group in a cabin that boasted a bonfire outside and a kitchen  counter full of marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers just begging me to make them a smore. But I didn't. And today, it's Valentine's Day. The national day of chocolate. It's all over my house. I'm staying strong. It helps that I have another kind of sweetness hanging around here.....

            (Daisy is hanging around because Kate had just popped a heart brownie in her mouth.)

Kate just told me, "Roses are red, violets are blue. Sugar is sweet and so are you."  And YOU my sweet babies!!

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope your day is full of sweetness!

Who You Lookin' At?

The lights in dressing rooms are cruel, aren't they? You would think that stores would figure out ways to make you look better so you would feel more obligated to buy something other than an exercise DVD. I was a little (or a lot) disappointed this week as I tried on some clothes. Thanks to the stomach bug and a diet that makes me look forward to raisins as a sweet treat, I am now a number on the scale and a size in clothes I never dared dream I would see again. You would think I would be excited. I thought I would be too. But I wasn't. I don't look like I did the last time I was this number. I'm saggy. And cellulitey. Is that a word? I tried to make myself look at the overall picture instead of focusing on my problem area(s) and that helped some. I looked okay. But I didn't look like.....who was I trying to look like anyway? It was in that moment that I realized I wasn't as upset with how I looked as I was with who I don't look like. As in, I don't look like a supermodel. Newsflash, right?

The truth is, I have slowly come to accept that my body has birthed 3 children and as my sister would say, I fully abused the privilege of pregnancy. :)  I pushed calorie counts to places they should never go and gave the phrase  "sedentary lifestyle" new meaning.  I have the scars and stretch marks to prove it. It's not pretty. But they are very visual reminders of the struggle that took place as my body made room for new life. I recently came across the website "The Shape of A Mother" (Disclaimer: There are pictures of a graphic nature and I do not agree with or condone all thoughts and feelings shared on the website) and I have read stories of so many women struggling to come to grips with their new post-baby bodies. And despite the fact that there are pictures and proof that some women do seem to bounce back perfectly, the fact is that after having babies you are forever changed. If not physically, in every other way. But the statement I read over and over was, I would never trade my baby to have that body back.  Now, we might all like a tummy tuck, but not if it meant giving our babies back. :)

This post actually has nothing to do with babies or stretch marks. It has to do with the new life I mentioned. Not the lives our Mamas sacrificed their bodies to give us, but the new life our Savior sacrificed His for. You see, my discouraged moment in the dressing room wasn't the only discouraging moment for me this week. Or the last few weeks. I've had several. In fact, I've felt downright defeated. For as long as I can remember the enemy has enjoyed playing a game with me I like to call, "How many ways can I fail?" During this game I begin to think on everything in my life that I wish I hadn't done, or felt like was a failure, or current things in life that I feel like I stink at. Just like in the dressing room when I began comparing my body to that of a supermodel, I like to take all aspects of my life and slap them up next to someone or something that is way better than me. I feel like a loser. It's tons of fun. 

Well, just this very week I was drifting off into loserville and I was getting ready for a good cry and a walk down my hall of shame when something happened. My Savior stepped in. I promise it was like being bullied and having the strongest kid in the class step up for you. As I began to tick off the list in my head of things I've done wrong or ways that I've failed I began to have thoughts about other things I've accomplished or overcome. And I was instantly reminded that all of those things had one thing in common-Him. I am so far from perfect it's not even funny, but as I thought back on my life I was completely overwhelmed at where I've been and where I've come. And I can say that without an ounce of arrogance because I know Who has brought me here. It has not been without battles or the scars that come with them. Sometimes those scars seem as real and visible as the ones that cover my tummy. I can honestly say that in the same way I wouldn't trade my babies to be rid of my stretch marks, I wouldn't trade the lessons I've learned to be free of the other scars either.  But the truth is that He bore those scars for me long before I even entered the battle. He hasn't stopped fighting for me yet. 

Do you ever feel defeated? If you are a child of God, we've already been promised the victory. I've learned that success and failure are both very influenced by who we're looking at. I recently came across this verse and I felt like it summed it up perfectly. "You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in You."  Isaiah 26:3.

When our minds (and eyes) are focused on Him, we will find peace no matter what the situation. When we are steadfast. When we do not take our eyes off for even a second to focus on how we measure up with other people, to dwell on what could have been, or what might be. We can trust that He will keep fighting for us, and while we will never be the same, the new life He creates will be worth whatever struggle brings it. 

My New Fashion Trend...

*This is a true story. Every.last.word. But for the sake of my sanity and my social life, let's pretend it's not.

I left y'all with the news that I almost burnt our house down last Sunday night. Turns out, that would be prophetic for what I would want to do by the end of the week. Grab a chair and a hazmat suit and I will tell you all about my week.

Monday- I was still feeling pretty crummy, but trying to pull myself together as I had to work that night. And while spotting girls in a tumbling class doesn't require a ton of skill, it does require a ton of strength and energy. I had been running low on both. I survived though and went home and had a nice supper with the fam. Josh has been so awesome about making sure I stick with my diet and cooking for me on the nights that we would be likely to just want to grab something. All was well until Eli started complaining of a stomachache. We started the bedtime routine and he went to use the bathroom and I just happened to walk by in time to see (because 6 year old boys do not require privacy in the bathroom) him projectile vomiting. Awesome. I was just thankful it happened on the tile floor and not the carpet in his bedroom. Thankfully, this was a one time occurrence.


Tuesday- Eli talked his way into staying home from school, but did NOT act sick. In fact, he was running laps through the house. We already had plans to have friends over for dinner that night and I debated cancelling, but since it only happened once I convinced myself it was just something he had eaten. We spent the day cleaning and preparing for our guests. That night we had fajitas and great conversation with a special couple who will probably never speak to us again, or at the least will avoid our house like the plague. But the night itself was the highlight of our week. :)

Wednesday- I was feeling so good Wednesday. The best I have felt in over a month. I felt alive again. I put on make-up and fixed my hair. I went to pick Kate up at school and took her to have a picnic at the park while we waited for her dentist appointment. It was a gorgeous day. We had just enough time to eat and play. I took Kate to the dentist and it was a quick visit. As we were waiting to pay I noticed something that would change the course of the entire week. LICE!!!!! Oh.my.word. We went straight home and to the bathtub. Kate had been fighting a cold and was already pretty miserable.

*I have to stop here and back up. A week after Christmas we had this same problem. It turned into an all day and night marathon and I got a new vacuum cleaner out of the deal. I also googled until I became an expert on this subject. My children and I sat around for hours with mayonnaise and plastic bags on our heads. Our doorbell rang 40 times that day. As I was getting ready to wash and comb everybody's heads, Josh informed that one of our puppies that we gave away was being fought over in a custody  battle and the police might be by to talk to him. Seriously? I cannot say it enough, these things only happen to me!!!! At one point I thought the police officer had gotten there and I locked me and 3 kids into our tiny bathroom.  Later I found out Josh was talking on the phone with him. Lucky for that policeman.*

So, I share all of that to say that I now consider myself an expert and went into action. I really debated sharing this information as I figure I will lose all friends and social acquaintances, but I have written about so many aspects of motherhood that I felt this was one I just couldn't pretend didn't happen. Not too long after our first experience we watched "I Don't Know How She Does It", and there was a lice scene that made me laugh and also want to hold her and cry. But of course, not touch heads. If you have boys, the lice solution is simple, shave their heads. That's what Josh and Eli did. While they did that I smothered mine and the girls LONG, THICK, AND CURLY (kate) hair with mayo and wrapped our heads in Wal-Mart bags and shower caps. There are no words for how ridiculous we looked, but I read that suffocating the lice is one of the most sure fire ways to kill them. I won't lie, I was secretly thinking 'Die, you ugly bugs. Suffocate! Suffer!'  If you've had lice, you understand. You leave it on your head as long as humanly possible while you vacuum everything you own that is not being  washed. There are no words to explain what the laundry situation has been like in this house. None.

Kate was running fever that day and cried and whined the entire time I washed her hair and combed it. Combing is key y'all.  You have to comb that hair for HOURS. Anyway, after I covered our furniture in sheets she laid down and passed out.  Then, she woke up and we got to wash and comb all over again. You can't imagine the fun we've had in this house. Eli came home from church (of course this happened on a Wednesday) and announced that he had told everyone we had lice. Thanks Eli.

Thursday- We kept the kids home to treat again. I colored my hair because I read that that will kill them too and I needed to cover some grays anyway. Especially after this week. That afternoon I headed to dance (the girls did not) and when I got there a crowd was already waiting. A new girl was starting and her little brother was having a massive nose bleed. I was trying to get in the door, get my skirt and shoes on, get paper towels for the nose bleed, find shoes for the new girl and calm down my other ballerinas who were extra hyper. We managed to start class and before long the phone was ringing off the hook. Barbie had decided to take the day off and my assistant didn't show up. Normally I just let the phone ring and go to the answering machine if I'm teaching, but we had been under severe weather watches and I was worried someone might be calling about that. They were. Several moms called to ask if we were cancelling classes due to the weather.  I felt like I needed to talk to Barbie first, so I told them to call back later. I couldn't get a hold of Barbie. So many moms called that I just made the decision to cancel my last two classes. That meant calling everybody. I couldn't remember the password to get into the computer to get phone numbers. By this point my second class was getting there and I still didn't have an assistant. I finally remembered where the registration forms were filed and started going through them looking for numbers. I put a 6 year old in charge of stretching out the girls. It was desperate times y'all. The sky kept getting darker and parents started coming in the middle of the class to get their kids. By the end I had two girls left and when one of their moms got their she told me a tornado had been spotted on the Cape, which was about 10 minutes from us. I ushered the girls out and hauled booty home. I remembered later that I had left the computer on. I apologized to Barbie the next time I saw her and she told me she didn't know what had happened. I left the computer, A/C and the stereo on, and there was blood in the bathroom!!!!!! The nosebleed! I had never even had time to go in the bathroom. I told her it must have been like a scene out of CSI. She said she didn't know what those parents had done to me!!!

Friday-4:00am I woke up feeling terrible. Kate was in the bed with us snoring like crazy. My stomach was killing me. I moved to the couch and for some reason Sarah and Eli were already in the living room. I laid down and tried to watch TV to forget that I felt like I was DYING. Then, it happened. The puking. Eli asked me what I was spitting up. I wanted to say, "I don't know son, would you like me to send it off to a lab?" It finally stopped, but it was official, I was camped on the couch for the day. A few hours later I was on the phone with my sister and Kate was sitting in the recliner. She started saying her stomach hurt and before I could get off of the couch, she was projectile vomiting. By Friday night I was in tears asking Josh if he thought I was still a Christian and I was questioning the meaning of life. Did I mention Friday marked my 6th day caffeine free? My Mamaw had come into town the Friday night before and I still had not seen her due to the fact that apparently my house is a CDC petri dish.

I woke up Saturday feeling like a new woman and I told Josh that if I had to take a barf bag and wear a shower cap, I was getting out of the house!!!! We had a fun, busy weekend and life was beginning to feel normal again. Today we went and voted. Tonight, Josh is in the bed. Yep, it's his turn. I'm just going to go bathe in Lysol and sleep with a surgical mask on. If I were you, I'd just be glad you are only a "blogging friend" and not someone who has had physical contact with us. Get on your knees and thank God. And, if you are someone who has had physical contact with us, God bless you. It was nice knowing you. I totally understand if you never want to come within 30 feet of us. And if you do, dress appropriately.

Photo courtesy of Google Images

Burn, Baby, Burn

Some of you may remember this post when I talked about a diet I was starting for health reasons. Well, I relapsed and let's just say that Christmas left me begging for my life. Or a Motrin. Or 90. So, I'm back on the wagon and FOR GOOD. I learned my lesson. With that said, last time I only gave up dairy, sweets and caffeine. Only. :)  This time, I'm giving up red meat and I'm *trying* to give up wheat, too. I wasn't sure how this would go over with my hubby whose picture you will find if you look up "carnivore" in the dictionary. But let me tell you, he has totally jumped on board with this diet. You know I've wallowed in pain and been totally useless (and maybe a bit moody) when Josh is googling this diet and going to the grocery store for me. For me the only way I can stick with it is 1. Trail mix. Raisins suddenly taste like cheesecake when you give up sweets. 2. Celery with peanut butter. It's my new crack. 3. Lots of fruits and veggies that are easy for me to grab and go.  Well, apparently Josh's way of coping with this diet was a turkey. A 23 pound turkey y'all!!!!

*Let me just stop here and tell you that this is two times the size of the turkey we fried when we spent Thanksgiving  with my sister and FED 9 people!!!!*

So anyway, I really like turkey and apparently Josh does, too. :)  I stayed home from church yesterday feeling like snot  not feeling so great and Josh asked if I would check on the turkey and remove some of the foil so it could cook on top. Ok. I could do that. Surely I could drag myself off the couch for 5 minutes. Well, let me tell you.....I did as I was asked to do. But it turns out the pan the turkey was on wasn't quite big enough for it. The juices started overflowing and before I knew it, the entire kitchen and dining room were full of smoke. I opened the kitchen window and headed back to the couch. If I was not in my first day of caffeine withdrawal I probably would have come up with a way to fix the problem, but I was in fact on day one of caffeine withdrawal and I was perfectly content to sit in a smoke filled house as long as I could sit. Or lay. 

About 30 minutes later Kate was the first one to come in the door. She was barefoot. "Where are your shoes?" I asked. She answered, "Daddy has them. My feet were hot."  Oh. Well that makes sense. Don't we all take our shoes off at church if our feet get hot????? She then made her way to the kitchen where she proceeded to say, "HOLY SMOKE!" About that time the rest of the gang came in and started waving their arms and asking what was going on. Eli started yelling, "STOP, DROP AND ROLL!!!!" Josh started opening more windows. And doors. That led to Kate walking outside and announcing that she saw Bigfoot over at the church. Then Eli suggested getting out the peanut butter to trap him. And that made me want some more celery with peanut butter. But first we needed to eat some turkey. :)

Photo courtesy of Kansas Fire Equipment Co., Inc.

Gift idea for the Fidlers-family packs of fire extinguishers and an extra set for guests.....

Mompetition

We were loading up in the Jeep when Josh asked Kate if she wanted him to tell me about her day or if she wanted to tell me. Uh-oh. You may remember from this post that the last time a conversation started this way, it wasn't a good thing. My stomach started turning and Josh started telling me that when he picked Kate up her teacher wanted to talk to him. At this point I was on edge. Way back a decade ago when I began the journey of motherhood it never occurred to me I would have to worry about teachers wanting to talk to us about anything bad. Because you know, my kids were going to be perfect. :)  Well, almost 10 years and 3 kids later, I was worried! To build the suspense and DRIVE ME CRAZY, we stopped to get a drink at Mr. Cheap Butts and Josh told me he would tell me what she wanted to talk about after he got our stuff. AGHHH!!!!! It was driving me nuts. I started trying to pry it out of Kate, but all she would tell me was, "I didn't get paddled today."  Well, at least that was a relief. Finally, Josh returned and I gave him .5 seconds to get in the vehicle and tell me what happened. He started telling me that when he got there Kate was looking for her folder and Mrs. B. had it because she wanted to talk to him. I frantically grabbed Kate's backpack looking for her folder. Did she get a frowny face??? And who knew that as a 31 year old woman I would be so concerned over the idea of getting a frowny face? After dragging this story out for EVER, Josh told me that basically Kate's teacher was really impressed with some testing she's been doing and she wanted us to know that Kate is really smart and she was amazed at how quick she picks stuff up. *sigh of relief*

You might think that this information caused me to swell with pride. Well, maybe a little. But it also caused me to pause and realize how far I've come (or fallen, however you want to look at it.)  The truth is, with Sarah I knew she was brilliant and advanced and I had two sets of grandparents confirming my beliefs. I had the normal parental expectations for greatness. Now, after having made the decision to hold a child back a grade and having another paddled before she even starts going to school for a full day, I just hold my breath and hope we get through the day. And I had to laugh a little because the day before this happened, my friend Philip had sent me a message with the word of the day: 

mompetition
	January 17, 2012 Urban Word of the Day The one-up rivalry that moms play making their child seem better, smarter, and/ or more advanced than yours. May involve two or more moms and any number of children, even full-grown. She engaged me in mompetition insisting her son walked at 6 months and implying my son was slow for his age

Okay Moms, show of hands. Have you ever been part of a mompetition? I think we all have. Being the slacker that I am, I dropped out early. I am not one of the awesome moms who kept perfect records of every milestone of their children. I remember that Sarah sat up by herself when she was 5 months, only because it happened on Christmas Day. I remember that Eli and Kate both started walking before they were 1, not because I was thrilled that they were advanced, but because by then I knew that life is never the same once your child becomes mobile and that you never sit down again once it happens. And I like to sit down a lot.

Unfortunately, mompetition doesn't end once the physical developments of infancy do. It just changes. It turns into whose child makes the honor roll, whose child has the cutest clothes or whose child is the most talented, creative, athletic, etc. You find yourself doing things like building huge veggie trees because your child always ends up in classes with the children of "that" mom who runs a bakery and always makes the best goodies for class parties. Wait, is that just me?

I am competitive by nature. Just ask anyone who has played against me in Wii bowling. :) And I think that healthy competition is a good thing. There is a time and a place for it. I've had to realize though, being a mom isn't one of those times. For two reasons. First, my kids are real, live people with their own thoughts, feelings, abilities and personalities. It's not fair to expect them to be a certain way because another child is, or to use their achievements or awesomeness to bolster my self-esteem. Not their job. The second reason is that we as moms DO NOT  need something else to stress about. Am I right, here? I mean really, between sleep deprivation, picky eaters, sick days, homework, and trying to find a way to get fingernail polish out of the carpet, who needs more pressure? 

Here's what I've recently realized that I wish I had realized 9 years ago. This is not a contest. There will be no trophies or ribbons presented to us upon high school graduation. It will not matter how early our child rolled over or if they were the first kid in their class to learn to tie their shoes. It will matter that instead of being taught to compete with their classmates they learned to love them and appreciate each of them for the special qualities and talents they possess. It will matter that they learn to value themselves as unique and special rather than running themselves ragged trying to win the next award or be the top of the class. It will matter that they learn to work with people instead of against them. 

And that brings me to the greatest downfall of  mompetition. In a time in our lives when we need all of the support and encouragement we can get, we tear each other apart with jealousy, snootiness and one upmanship. I just read this great blog post and I thought it brought out something none of us wants to admit. That there is a part of us that wants people to be jealous or to look at us and think we are the mom who has it all together.  We've all been part of that conversation where "that mom" is praised for whatever reason, be it that she cooks all organic meals or that she can wear skinny jeans. But the truth is that at the end of the day, even the mom in skinny jeans doesn't have it all together. 

I'm pretty sure I gave up my nomination for "that mom" as soon as I started blogging. Sometimes I wish I could go back and start over and only blog about our sweet moments or post pretty pictures. But, by now y'all know me well enough to know I do good to get any pictures!! Personally, I'm waving the white (slightly yellowing and wrinkled because it stayed in the laundry pile too long) flag of surrender on the competition thing. If you need a mom to be greatly impressed with or to inspire you with educational activities and healthy snack ideas, I'm probably not for you. But if you need a place to go to feel better about yourself, I'm your girl. There is no perfection here. Just lots of learning lessons the hard way, trying to love the good AND the bad, laughing when it's funny and crying when it's not. 

I'm going to finish by telling you something that Eli did that really made me think. Every week since school started he had been making 100's on his spelling test and I would proudly display them on the refrigerator. Well, one Friday I had been busy and hadn't checked his folder. I walked past the fridge and noticed he had already put his spelling test up. But something was different. No 100/A this week. Nope. It was a 67/D. I was in shock. A little disappointed. Then, it hit me. Eli didn't realize I had been putting those tests up there because of how proud I was of his grade. He just thought I was proud of him. And you know what? I am. I'm just proud of him. Of course, it's not okay for him to make that grade every week, but he hasn't. He's gone back to his A's. But it is important that my kids know I'm still going to love them and be proud of them, even on an off week. Especially on an off week. Moms are the same way. Sometimes those off weeks are when we really need the most love and encouragement. Sometimes us moms are the only ones who really get that. Let's stop the mompetition and instead of using our knowledge and experience to brag or beat each other up, let's use it to hug, support, educate and hold each other's hands on this journey. From what I hear, it's not going to get any easier!!!!!!! But we have great reasons to persevere and cheer each other on!

Preachers Get All The Women

In case you think that little kids are the only ones who say the darnedest things, let me assure you, they are not. I could write a book about my experience working with Hospice if it weren't for the confidentiality and the fact that I was so incredibly sleep deprived during those days that I know I've forgotten more than I'll ever remember. But, there are a few of my patients and a few encounters with them that I will never forget. Ever.

The first made the comment that inspired the title for this post. I had a, how should I put it? I had an  amorous man for a patient that on occasion would ask me to leave my husband and marry him. Before you start thinking this is cute, let me tell you he begged his nurse, too. He wasn't my only hospice patient lookin' for love. I had quite a few men who ranged from sweetly flirty to deeply creepy and disturbing. I will say this, for most of these guys who were home bound I was the best looking thing around. Sad, yes. But I will be honest and tell you that I desperately depended on their compliments to offset the painfully honest older women I visited who would tell me things like, "Your hips just keep spreadin' and spreadin'." My self-esteem has still not recovered from the roller coaster of hospice work. :)  Anyway, when the flirtations would begin to turn creepy and disturbing I would pull out all the stops to dissuade it.  Being married and pregnant or postpartum most of my working career was no obstacle to these lonely men. They would offer to take in my kids, too.  I would usually break down and confide that my husband was a preacher and it probably wouldn't look great for the preacher's wife to move in with another man. Some guys seemed to take it as a personal challenge to flirt with me more. One patient just said in frustration, "Preacher's get all the women!" Josh and I still laugh at that declaration four years later.  Poor Josh, all he got was me. :)

I didn't always tell my patients that I was a preacher's wife. I wasn't actually supposed to share very much about my personal life, but I'll be honest. It's hard to go into people's homes at least once a month, sometimes more and learn very personal details about every part of their life without disclosing some things about myself. I learned that the fact that I was a preacher's wife would be met with 2 distinct reactions. People either LOVED that I was a preacher's wife or, they weren't so thrilled. Let's face it, people usually either love or hate preachers. It's just how it is. Well, I still remember a patient who had a not so thrilled reaction when he learned I was a preacher's wife. I have to set the scene for you. As Sophia from "The Golden Girls" would say: Picture it. Waynesboro, Mississippi. 2007. I was 7 months pregnant and it was July. It was hot as all get out. I got papers telling me I had a new patient. I was warned by the home health aid that the yard was very overgrown and there were probably snakes and that snakes are drawn to pregnant women. (It's why I haven't gotten pregnant again. :)  I had never been given a patient in this town and soon learned that it was an hour drive. I made the drive and trekked through the yard as fast as my big ol' pregnant self could move and was welcomed into a home that would make a great episode of Hoarders. I don't say that judgmentally. Believe me, it was not the only house I went into in that condition. I made myself a space and sat down to begin my assessment. It was a very sweet lady who was living with her brother in law who would later be put on our service as well. He sat in the corner and grunted. He was nice enough to show me the gun he kept hidden in his sock. I felt so safe. There is nothing like a dementia patient with a weapon. Anyway, my sweet patient answered my questions and as we got to the spiritual assessment she told me that the gun totin' grunter in the corner was a deacon. I thought that meant it would be safe to share that I was a preacher's wife. I thought wrong. He was quick to tell me "All preacher's care about is money!" Can I just tell you now, I was not in the mood for that particular response. It took everything in my being not to go off on him and tell him that that was exactly why I was out driving hours a day in record heat while I was on the verge of popping out a baby, because my husband was all about the money. Nevermind that we had taken a 50% pay cut when we went into ministry. And that was with me working. I was a tad furious with him. I knew he had dementia and was not in his right mind, but I also knew that his words represented exactly how many, many people feel. I know, because he's not the only one who has made that kind of comment around me or Josh.

Again, I don't really like talking about money. All I'm going to say is that NOTHING in my life has offended me more than people implying that Josh and I went into ministry or have made other choices in our life based on money. For one, if you checked our bank account, you would just laugh at that idea anyway. Two, as imperfect and flawed as Josh and I are, the one thing we have prayed and cried and agonized over is being where God wants us to be. Regardless of how hard that might be. Regardless of what it might mean for us financially. Regardless of what it means for us emotionally, mentally, spiritually or socially. 

I share this, because while we do not do ministry for the money, there are often times when it can feel very unrewarding. There are times when you begin to question if it is worth the sacrifices you've made. If it is worth the time you invest. If it's worth knowing that 97% of people don't truly get what your life is all about or why God is such a big deal to you. You go to bed and wonder if makes a difference in even 1 persons life that you've chosen the road of ministry. Because really, if it's not even making a difference in 1 persons life, maybe we should go back to our plan A, which meant a lot more money, security, and comfort for us. 

We don't have a huge church. We don't lead big conferences or write books. We have a sweet little congregation that longs to be revived and see it's community changed by the light of Jesus. We have wise, seasoned believers and we have kids who come from homes that redefine most people's idea of "broken". We have a community of addicts, mentally ill, physically handicapped, and spiritually blind people. We have a neighborhood with old, run down houses with tenants who move frequently. We live in a community where when you tell people where you live they say, "Oh" and you know what that means. There are some wonderful people who live here and they will tell you that the neighborhood is not what it used to be. There are countless kids who are neglected and hungry, in more ways than one. 

Those kids are the reason that I feel more sense of purpose than I have ever felt in my life. From the day we moved in those kids found their way to our house. I know it's because of my kids, not anything Josh or I have done. Most of those kids have already moved away, but one boy has become our 4th child. Our doorbell rings every school day at 2:45 without fail and most Saturdays about 10:00. (We had to have a little discussion about what time he showed up on Saturdays!!) He's eaten many meals with us, suffered through playroom and bedroom clean-up, gone to church with us, watched movies with us, and even gotten us in trouble with neighbors. :)  I struggled when he first started coming around. He's older than my kids. At first we thought he was completely rude because he would not speak to me or Josh and then we learned that he had some mental and developmental challenges. He was loud. He smelled bad. During the summer he would come to our house wearing the same clothes for days on end. He needed a haircut. I'm telling you the truth when I tell you I had to really pray that God would help me love this kid. I would get mad at his parents. They would drop him off and not be home when we would take him home hours later, after our kid's bedtimes. We would see his mom out places and she wouldn't even acknowledge us. He's spent so much time at our house that he's seen it all. He's seen me hollerin' at my kids, and not the "we're out in public so I'll pretend I have patience" hollerin', the "I feel like snot, I'm miserable and y'all are driving me crazy" hollerin'. I can't tell you how many times I've figured that I scared him off for good. But I'll never forget the day I said something about being mean and he said, "You're not mean. You're nice." And I wondered how much worse he had seen in his life. I remember the first time I heard him really laugh and I wondered if he laughed when he was at his house. I remember the first night he went to church with us and I realized his mental challenges when he couldn't find the right page in the hymnal. 

Well, I have to tell you. God has worked in his life. It's the only way to explain it. He is a different kid. He looks different. You know how God changes some people and they just look different? And while I hope that our family has been a positive influence in his life, I know only God can get the glory for the kind of change I've seen in him and his family. His Mom speaks and waves to us. She smiles, something I never saw her do for over a year. He ate supper with us tonight and the kids went to watch TV while Josh and I sat at the table and talked. I looked and saw him in the middle of my kids and I realized, I love him. Like he's my own. And my heart did little flip flops of happiness about the work God has done on my stubborn little heart.  

We didn't see him much over Christmas break and again I worried I had done something to upset him. But, as soon as school started back, he was back. And this time, he brought us something. One of the greatest gifts I've ever received.

It's a jar with cookie mix. Josh said I can never make them, we just have to save it. :)  I know that this may mean very little to most of you, but for us, it was like being given a million dollars. It wasn't just cookie mix. It was evidence that a change has happened in people's hearts. It was evidence that God took some people who had been the recipients of many different people and church's generosity and gave them a desire to give back. It was evidence that maybe God had done something in just one person or one family's hearts. It was evidence that we are exactly where we are supposed to be. 

I don't know that preachers get all the women. But seeing people's lives changed, that's pretty cool too! :)