Worth more than a thousand words: A Ministry Fundraiser

I've always loved pictures. Those precious moments captured on film to be forever saved when your memory one day fails you.

When I was in college I remember getting my first camera and rushing to the one-hour photo lab, getting a roll developed while I waited, and then scouring through them to see if even one was worth the price of developing.

(courtesy of Autumn Song Photography) 

Sometimes I'd get a picture where not everyone was looking but instead, a moment in time was forever inked onto paper, creating a visual memory I could tangibly hold in my hands. I still flip through old photos sometimes and memories come flooding back. Friends I've lost touch with, then remember how much I miss them.

(courtesy Bill Broere Photography)

Now that I'm a mother, pictures take on a whole new meaning. I look at the images that have been captured behind the lens of a camera and I see so much more. I see chubby fingers that have grown slender and will no longer get tangled in my hair. I see plump cheeks that have turned into distinct kid faces, no longer squishy and covered in drool.

(courtesy of Autumn Song Photography)

And when I look at pictures of my kids now, I think about how the faces I'm seeing will morph from the face of a little girl, into the face of a woman. I wonder what features will remain distinctive and which will fade with maturity and time.

(courtesy of Autumn Song Photography)

So when Autumn Song Photography and Bill Broere Photography agreed to partner with us to do a photography fundraiser for our ministry, I was beside myself with joy. Not only do both of these men capture breath taking moments from behind the camera but they both have a heart for the Lord.

(courtesy of Bill Broere Photography)

On October 30, 2011 both of these men are donating their professional services for the sole purpose of raising support for our ministry and the people of Africa.

(courtesy of Autumn Song Photography)

These two men are taking their God-given talents and using them for the glory of God's name to be taken to the ends of the earth.

(courtesy of Autumn Song Photography)

Not only will your sitting fee be tax-deductible but you will also have the joy of looking back on memories that will last a lifetime. Images that you can look at years from now and remember that two-toothed grin that has now changed into a toddler boy, then later into a young man.

(courtesy of Autumn Song Photography)

As you reflect on the joy of the blessings in your own life, you will also be blessing others with the joy of Christ's name being proclaimed to generation after generation.

(courtesy Bill Broere Photography)

If you live in the North Carolina area and you'd like more information on how you can participate in this amazing fundraiser, get some amazing photographs for your family and help take the message of the good news of Jesus Christ to the unreached people of Kenya, you can email me at:

beaverbunch (at) gmail (dot) com

Please put "Photography Fundraiser" in the subject line.

All donations from this event will be tax-deductible. We look forward to seeing you on October 30th!

Eye of the Storm (guest post by Luke)

I guess Luke figures that if I'm not going to blog, he will.

Below is a post he emailed me after a crazy morning yesterday. I sure do love this man of mine.

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We are asked many times how we raise, disciple, and shepherd many small children all at the same time. The true answer is: I feel like we fail about 99% of the time.

So………….. this morning everyone needs to be woken up so they can go to CBS (Community Bible Study). To fulfill the role as the leader of our home I want to encourage the kids and Jessica to go. One of the ways that plays out (in our home) is for me to get the kids started on getting ready to go to CBS.

Well this morning I woke up late (read – I stayed up to late watching meaningless baseball and talking to the TV). So the day is not starting well for this Type A person. I get ready and make it down stairs to work on breakfast. Ashlee and Lucas come down stairs and want toast for breakfast. While this may not seem like a big deal, this turns into making toast for about 15 minutes. As soon as you get one piece ready, they have already eaten the other piece and someone else has found (smelled) their way into the kitchen and now wants a piece. So my first instinct is to not let them have toast. You see, breakfast is normally to throw a bowl of cereal in front of everyone while we comb hair and put shoes on.

Rather than get upset and frustrated (like I wanted to) God gave me the patience to talk to my children. I said to Lucas and Ashlee, “I want to make you toast, but I am going to need your help getting Aaron and Olivia up and dressed.” I turn around and they are gone, helping there brother and sister get ready. By this time Elizabeth is awake. She quickly jumps in and starts making toast, which gives me time to get Ella ready. So I know you are thinking, where is Jessica in all of this? She is in the bathroom being 4 months pregnant on a Thursday morning (read: puking her guts up).

Up to this point I have failed to mention the kids, Jessica, my mother in law, and grandmother in law helped clean up the house last night. This in turn, gives me (Type A) the chance to get kids ready and not step on/over/under/through/matrix – things/toys/clothes/food/who knows what that was. Which in turn helps me to be more patient as the hurricane happens all around.

The underlying thing to all of this is that I have been praying over and concerned how we teach our children to love and serve others. In the eye of the storm that happened. The kids were serving each other and their parents, while their parents were able to serve each other. All with cheerful hearts might I add.

Everyone got to CBS and dad got to work a little bit late. This morning I really enjoyed my large family. While incredibly crazy, I loved every moment of it.

Trying to slow down

So, I would apologize for it being so long between posts, but honestly, I wonder what I'd be apologizing for. I'm sure none of you rely on this blog to sustain your existence so it seems so trivial for me to apologize (or stress) over it's lack of updating.

Still, I think about it (and most of you) often and wish that I had more time to blog about the things going on in our family. After I wrote my last post on being overwhelmed, I realized that I forgot to include one of the biggest reasons I'm emotionally overwhelmed.

Mid-October, Luke will be traveling to Guinea-Bissau for 11 days. He's going to visit each of the villages I visited during my trip in April, meet many of the same national (and missionary) partners I met and see for himself exactly why that trip confirmed so much about our calling to Kenya. I'm so excited for him to go, but honestly, I'm also very anxious.

I mean, he will be on the other side of the world away from me and the kids. And during that time, I'm planning on making a trip with the kids (and a helper!) so that the time passes more quickly for us here at home.

So that's a lot of the emotional overwhelmedness lately. Not necessarily stress, just lots to think about, pray over, prepare for and grow from.

However, I've also realized since writing that last post that so much of my overwhelmed feelings are fueled by my lack of time in the Word. As I have stepped back, evaluated some things in my life that I'm willing to let go of, I've realized that I've put my quiet time on my list of "Must dos" and not as my #1 priority.

Truly, most days, I forget I'm pregnant. I mean, I feel the fatigue, the sickness and the emotions (darn hormones) but I am quick to forget why I feel that way. I'll be just about to drop after a busy day and think, "What's wrong with me?" Then realize, oh yeah, I'm growing a baby. THAT'S why I feel like I could sleep for 2 days.

Anyway, I know this is a bunch of rambling, but just wanted to update since my post on being overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with life and things to do and places to go, but I'm also overwhelmed with all the goodness and blessings God has placed in our lives. I stand amazed at the grace He shows me when I fall on my face, slump in the bed and cry out to Him that I cannot take anymore. Then, He gives me just what I need to accomplish the things He has purposed for me.

And I realize that I really have all that really need, if I just slow down.

Overwhelmed

Lately, life seems really overwhelming.

There seems to be so much to do and just not enough hours in the day. There are so many things in our lives that are worthwhile, good and even purposeful that seem like heaping spoonfuls on our already full plate.

I am not a planner by nature, which may surprise some of you who only vaguely know me. Someone asked me last week, when they found out we were expecting our 7th child, "Are you just the most organized person ever?"

Uh. Notsomuch.

Our house is hardly ever clean, certainly not to the standard of the majority of my friends and yet, it really doesn't bug me too much. I don't really care if people come over and there's laundry on the couch. I figure if they have an issue with it, they can fold it. :)

However, the overwhelmedness I feel lately comes from things more deeply rooted than a disorganized house (but that is adding to the feeling, I'm sure, since we've been home from the beach since Friday and I've yet to unpack any of us).

I feel as though the Lord has called me in so many different directions and truly, I'm having a hard time juggling all of it.

Homeschooling
Student Ministry
Discipling our Children
Bible Studies
Preparing for life as International Missionaries
Loving on hurting people around us
Being a good, devoted, loving friend
Being a loving, devoted and self-less wife
Mothering our brood of kids with love and compassion

I could keep going, but you get the idea. Each of the things listed above has several different components and each of those vary in complexities.

Here's what our week looks like this week (after taking a week off of school last week for the beach - so taking another week off doesn't feel like an option)

Monday - "normal" day of Homeschooling, cleaning the house, making breakfast, lunch and dinner, doing some unpacking, spending time with the little kids rather than just shooing them off while we school and Women's Bible Study from 7-9pm

Tuesday - Ella has a dermatology appointment in the morning for a weird spot on her leg then the same as Monday in the afternoon with school, meals, family time, housekeeping, etc.

Wednesday - Parent's Day Out at our church from 10-2 (Yipee! I debated skipping it, knowing what our week looked like but the kids LOVE it and so do I.) Then school in the afternoon, housekeeping, meals, etc.

Thursday - Older 3 have check ups at the Doctor in the morning (Usually we have Community Bible Study from 9-11am but I made these appointments, forgetting that it was a Thursday) then school in the afternoon. Piano for the older 3 from 5-6 and Elizabeth has soccer practice from 6-7. Somewhere in there we need to finish up the school work we've not completed so far this week and of course I have meals to make, laundry, housekeeping, etc.

Friday - "normal" school day, much like Monday. Luke's men's Bible Study is in the mornings and he has a Daddy Breakfast Date with one of the kids before he heads into work.

Again, this is MY schedule and about 99% of the time something happens (someone has an issue with poop or my "morning" sickness rears its ugly head) that throws my whole schedule out of the window.

Add to the above routine preparation for a lesson for our small group of Teenagers for Sunday Nights, trying to spend time in the Word for my own sanity, trying to knock items off our checklist for Africa Inland Mission, which currently looks like this:

That's just a excerpt of the list. It goes to 56 items. And as we draw closer to our departure date of July 2012, the items become more frequent and more pressing. See all that stuff due ASAP that we've not done? Overwhelmed.


I'm dealing with emotions with personal relationships, conflicts and the thoughts of having to tell people we love things they do not want to hear. It's hard juggling it all and trying to maintain some resemblance of normal.

We also have Bible Requirements to complete and books to read and an Outbound Training Program to complete where we meet with a Facilitator every few weeks. We SHOULD be meeting weekly with potential supporters and trying to speak with Sunday School Classes and/or Churches on Sundays. (Want us to come talk to you?)

And somewhere in all that madness we're suppose to be training, teaching, discipling and loving on our kids like a normal family who is NOT leaving in 10 months. We're mentally trying to prepare for a baby due in March of 2012 while also mentally preparing to leave the country for 4 years just 4 short months after we welcome Baby #7.

What do we sell? What do we keep? How in the heck do I get everything done and not lose my mind?

If I stand back and look at the big picture I just want to sit and cry. So I tell myself to take one day at a time. Deep breaths and baby steps to the end goal, right?

But truthfully, there are days that I MUST step back and look at the big picture or else I'll never get all of it done. The non-planner in me wants to make lists and list and lists because that's what I do when I'm stressed and overwhelmed, I make lists.

But there's not really anything list, sadly. It all just sort of hangs out there in the distance, waiting on me to arrive with little or nothing to offer.

I've tried to prioritize my days by things that MUST get done, things that SHOULD get done and things I WANT to get done. It helps but the things that make our house function day to day have no impact on the long-term things that will eventually move to the MUST category. And by the time they arrive, it will be too late and we'll me more overwhelmed than we are now.

I'm emotional. Probably because I'm pregnant because I'm not a weepy person by nature, but most days now, I want cry. I want to walk away from the callings God has placed before me, throw my hands up and say, "I quit!"

But I think that's just what the enemy wants me to do. He wants me to quit. And I refuse. I refuse to turn from the things that God has called us to. I refuse to close my eyes and pretend that it's not all pressing on me at once. I refuse to turn from God as my only source of strength.

But the fact remains that I'm overwhelmed. Just flat out overwhelmed. And I don't know what to do to fix it, which makes me even more overwhelmed.

So, what do you do when you're overwhelmed?

I've cherish your prayers and any chocolate you'd want to send my way. ;)

Beach Pics

I wish I had a good reason for not blogging lately.

I guess, I do though. Six of them. Plus one tiny one that zapping ALL my energy and desire to do anything but sleep.

We went to the beach all week and got in late last night. It was a great trip full of memory making, family and friends and fun. There were 14 of us in all with friends, grandparents and great-grandmothers.

We attempted family pictures again this year. I was the photographer. It was interesting to say the least.

Here are a few of the kids that I got that were decent. But, by far, the outtakes are the most hilarious. Maybe I'll upload them soon.  But at the rate I'm blogging lately, uh, don't hold your breath.

Y'all have a great weekend.




Lucas is ticked because he's not beside Ella. Aaron is ticked because he's having to actually listen and obey.




Things about the above picture that should not shock you: 1) Olivia is talking. 2) Ashlee is closer to Ella than her own skin.




And my personal favorite.....

Please go read, then pray

Some friends of ours, who know these folks, gave me the following link.

I don't think they are open with the name of the country where they serve, but please, go read their blog and pray for the people they live along side and minister to.

It's just heartbreaking. Please pray for the people of Northern Africa. I can hardly imagine running with our children in our arms, trying to escape bombs and gunfire.

Bryan and Libby's blog.

Sick and tired. Literally.

Oh blogging, you've certainly fallen to the way side these days. Between trying to get some homeschooling done, fighting waves of nausea, resisting the urge to lay in the floor and sleep while the kids run amuck and laying down each time the little ones are napping, blogging seems to be getting the short end of the stick.

I have much to blog about and little inspiration to actually put it in writing.

I'm frustrated that I'm 12 weeks and yet the nausea and vomiting has only seemed to worsen in the last couple of weeks. And while I'm thankful that I'm not barfing every hour like I have with previous pregnancies, I am also eager to have some relief from constantly feeling green.

But I'm trying seriously hard to not complain and enjoy every second of this pregnancy and treasure it for the miracle that it is.

The kids are saying so many things that are hilarious (especially Aaron and Olivia) and I really should carry a pen and notebook with me where ever I go because I forget them so easily.

Over the weekend we were talking with the kids about Hurricane Irene. I was in the kitchen finishing up dinner and Luke was sitting at the table with the kids talking about the impending rain that was headed our way. Elizabeth was getting really upset, worrying that our house was going to blow away.

After Luke calmed her fears, he said, casually, "I was in a hurricane once when I was a kid." (His Mom was stationed in Puerto Rico for a while.)

With bewildered astonishment, Elizabeth asked, "Did you DIE?!?"

Originally I thought it was Ashlee, but when Luke and I talked about it later he told me it was really Elizabeth. Which makes it even funnier to me.

Ella is saying more and more words that are decipherable which is also hilarious. And, I've got a few really funny and cute videos I'd love to upload.

But for now, laundry and diapers and laying on the couch is calling my name.

In no specific order.

You sure have your hands full! (Part 2)

If you've not yet read Part 1 (and the comments - which were superb) then do that first.

I've heard every single one of these in the last 2 months:

"Why in the world would you want to have another one?"

"Was it planned?"

"You do know how it happens, right?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Better you than me!"

"Oh! I could never do that. More power to ya!"

"Do you just love being pregnant or something?"

"What do your other kids think? Are they jealous?"

"OH.MY.GOD. Seriously?"

"Are you just going to tell the doctor to give you a hysterectomy after this one?"

"So this is it, right? Y'all are done now?"

And those are just a handful of the negative responses I've heard since it's become public that we're expecting baby # 7.

There have been a lot of positive comments too, though. Luke and I took all 6 kids to the farmer's market on Saturday. As we sat and ate dinner in the resturant, a sweet gentleman came over, shook Luke's had and said, "I have 6 kids, all grown now. Had them all within 10 years. I remember those days. God bless y'all."

But those interactions are few and far between and I must admit that the negative ones sting quite a bit and linger more so than the positive ones.

And the shocking part of all of it, for me anyway, is that most of these negative and or slighted comments come from other believers. Christians, who are suppose to know and understand the Bible. Folks who should know all those verses that say children are a blessing, a reward, a gift!

After reading many of your comments and an email from a dear friend, I want to say this:

Having lots of kids doesn't make me more Godly than any other mother who may or may not have a handful of kids, 1 or 2 kids or no kids at all.

Someone living in obedience to God's desires for their life is what makes someone Godly.

Not for one split second do I think that because we homeschool, because we have lots of kids or because we are being called to the mission field that we are closer to God, more God-minded or that we have a more direct line to heaven.

Jesus is the direct line. There's nothing special about us. There's truckloads of special about Jesus.

With all of that said, here's what I've resolved in this tiny little, barely functioning brain that I have.

Children have the capacity to bring out the worst in people. Especially if they're your own children.

It's true. I act and do things in front of my kids that I would never do in front of other people. I yell at them, say things that I wish I hadn't said, think horrible thoughts and wish, somedays beyond all things wishable, that they would just stop needing me.

I use the bathroom in front of them, let them see me naked, unshowered and smelly. They don't care if we have PB & Js for dinner, two nights in a row.

Our culture knows that real parenting requires less of your own wants and a more self-less lifestyle, one that most of us (myself included) don't desire to live.

This, I think, this is why people cannot fathom why we'd want to have 7 children.

Why would we keep adding to our already weighty load? Don't we know that when they're big enough to send to school we get our lives back? (heh. yeah. right.)

As a culture, I believe that we do not adequately value children. We see them as a cultural norm. You find a spouse, get married and have babies because, well, that's what people do. (And yes, I know not all women/couples desire to have kids. I'm just speaking of the norms.)

As a sweet friend of mine said this in an email she sent me,

"You know we all fill up our time to the brim with stuff--we all do. We all have our hands full of something..."

Mercy is she ever right. Some people fill up their time with community service. Some with work. Some with school. Some with less than Biblical activities like drunkenness or sexual immorality.

Just like my sweet friend said, "we all have our hands full of something." I guess I just wonder why of all the things to have your hands full of, motherhood seems to take the heat more than any other thing. Maybe it's because motherhood is often so visible.

I mean, it's hard to hide six kids. ;)

I hardly ever hear anyone telling someone who works 50+ hours a week, "Boy you sure have you hand full! Don't you know why that happens? Please tell me you'll never work that many hours again!"

And while we validate work, or community service or even a regular 'ol busy lifestyle, we often devalue and criticize a family with more than 2.5 children.

In fact, I have many more thoughts on the things people say about children in front of their own children. But, I think that's going to be another post for itself.

So, what do you think, now that you've had some time to mull it over? Do you think we are a culture that embraces children, values them and treasures them? Or are we simply a culture that tolerates them?

And how can we be the face of change if your opinion is the latter?

Link it up

I wrote my final post for the Summer Session blog. It was about Revelation.

I know.

You can read it here.

I quietly stalk the Block family. They're moving to Guatemala with 7 of their kids in the next week to do full time mission work. This post that Amy wrote sums up exactly how I feel.

This post by my friend (and fellow AIM appointee) Leah is awesome. And I agree with her 200%.

I found this post via my bloggy friend Holly. It broke my heart and made me angry all at the same time. It should be against human law for a child to live, starving, in an orphanage.

This post by Missy had me laughing out loud, literally.

Finally, I'm feeling more horrible in the evenings rather than in the morning. Which is a HUGE answer to prayer since I typically feel pukey all day long and spend 99% of my time hovering over the toilet. Yay for God answering even the simplest of prayers for me not being a pukefest.

He's awesome.

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What have you read lately that's link worthy?

You sure have your hands full! (Part 1)

She sits strapped into her booster seat, her pudgy little fingers squeezing the handle of her spoon tightly. Applesauce oozes through them as she scoops heaping spoonfuls toward her mouth, inadvertently dipping her dimpled elbow in her bowl.

Half the contents of her spoon dribble down her front while the other half goes partly into her mouth and partly on her chin.

Applesauce is painted all over the table, all over her hair and a thick coat covers the bottom of her bowl.

"Here, Ella, Mommy help," I say, scraping another spoonful from around the sides and bottom of her bowl.

"Naaaaaa-uuuuhh!" she exclaims defiantly. Not because she doesn't want another bite but because she doesn't want me to give it to her.

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Her big brown eyes stare up at me while she sits on the potty. "Where does the pee-pee go?" I ask, very frustrated. She was potty trained before Aaron yet for some reason, she's reverted to daily accidents.

"In a poddy," she says with a smile. She expels what is left in her bladder and smiles up at me, proudly.

"I di it Mommy! I get a chocky tip Mommy!"

I stroke her face and tell her I'm proud of her and her tiny frame swells with pride. She's more pleased with my adoration than any piece of candy.

Later, she tells me before she has an accident. I make a mental note to praise her more often, even for the trivial things.

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I can't blame him for being upset. All they want to play is girly things and he's the odd man out most of the time. I'm eager for Aaron to get a tad older so that they can go play boy things together. He sits with a furrowed brow, upset that they just want to play dolls and he wants to play Toy Story.

"Bubby, have you asked them if you can play with them but not be a girl doll?"

"They don't like me anymore. All they want to play is games I don't like!" He's hurt. I squat down, look him in the eye and say, "Well, maybe you could play a boy game by yourself. Want me to get the blocks so you can build a fort for your army men?"

His face softens. It's not his first choice but it will do. Soon, his sisters are playing blocks with him and the doll incident is all but forgotten. Until tomorrow.

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He's whining and crying. Again. It's hard because I feel like that's all he ever does. Whine and cry, whine and cry. I ache to hear real words come out of his mouth. Real 3 year old words.

"Moooooooooommmmmmmm. I anna nodder juuuuuuuuice."

"I'm sorry Bud. You've already had one already. Maybe after nap."

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooo...... Moooooooommmmmm I anna nodder juuuuuuuuuuuice!!!"

I crack my neck by leaning my head from shoulder to shoulder. Tension releases.

"Buddy, I've told you. Not now. You've already had one cup."

Wails ensue. Fits progress until he's a flailing snake on the floor.

"Please go to your room if you chose to throw a fit."

Increased crying as he trots down the hall. He cries for over 20 minutes and my patience are pushed to their limit.

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"Elizabeth, can you please comb your hair before we leave?"

"Mom! I already did!" she insists.

I glance at her hair which is plied on top of her head with numerous bobby pins and barrettes. On one side, a huge blob of hair hangs out, sliding down the back of her neck onto her shoulders.

"Well, I think you missed a spot. Can I help you?"

"Fine! I'll fix it again." She turns and goes back upstairs, only to return a few minutes later with and equally frazzled hairdo.

I sigh, knowing that if I correct her styling again she'll break down into a puddle of tears and say that I don't think she's pretty.

I decide to save that battle for Sunday morning, when it's important.

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Her red hair whips into Ella's face as she shoves her face as close as humanly possible to another person.

"Juggy, juggy, juggy! You a precious girl! Yes.you.are!"

Ella protests and flings her body away, knocking Ashlee's cup over. Water glides across the table and falls onto the floor below, soaking everything around it.

"Ashlee! I've asked you numerous times to please not play with Ella while we are eating. She cannot eat and neither can you. And now, your drink has spilled. Again."

She looks at me with blue-green eyes, full of sorrow.

We clean up her water and everyone resumes their mealtime conversations. Less than 4 minutes later....

"Ella JOY! Ella JOY! Shuggy, shuggy, shuggy! I giddy, giddy, giddy! You love sissy! Yes you do!"

Ella screams, eager for Ashlee to stop squishing her body against hers.

Forks hit the floor and food flies across the table.

"ASHLEE! Please! Stop!"

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I've been thinking a lot about how to react to someone who tells us that our hands are full. After writing the above scenarios (all which have happened in past 48 hours) I can't say that I disagree. And with baby number 7 on the way, I can see how our hands will only get fuller.

Yet while their comments carry truth, I'm not really sure how to respond to people's remarks. While there are certainly times when I need a break from my children, and times when my patience is so thin you could blow bubbles through it, I truly cannot say that I'd rather my life be any other way.

I love my kids. I love being their mother. I love that we're a crazy, chaotic wild mess and there's always someone needing something.

I had a sweet, well meaning lady ask/tell me the other day that if I was just going to have the doctor give me a hysterectomy after we had baby number 7.

No lie.

She's a nice lady. I respect her as an elder woman in our church. I just think the thought of 7 kids blows her out of the water. And why shouldn't it?

I mean, it's a lot of kids.


I had great plans to make this a post about my feelings about people telling us our hands are full. But after writing all that is above, I'd like your input. What do you think when people tell you,

"Man! You have your hands full?"

or

"Better you than me!"

or

"If we'd have had our 2nd child first, we'd have stopped! But never seven!"

I want to have an answer to those questions that are glorifying to God, yet also honest and not necessarily canned. I want to make people think about what they are saying and why they are saying them.

Your thoughts?

Tune in for Part 2 sometime early next week as I read your thoughts and continue forming my own.

Happy Friday!

Blood is proof

If you’ve been around kids much, you know how it works. They fall off their bike and for a split second, they’re fine. Until, that is, they see the blood. Once they see those red droplets spring to the surface of their skin it takes their little fall to a whole new level.

The same is true for busted lips. Our kids seem to be in a phase of frequent injuries. Maybe it’s because it’s summer, or maybe it’s because they’re all so young, but injuries are a daily occurrence. Someone will trip over something and smack their mouth on a toy, or the floor or their own knee. A little whimpering begins as they walk to me holding their mouth. It’s not tragic until I pull back their lip for a closer inspection and the pool of red liquid spills out, and they see it. Suddenly, they’re rocketed to a whole new level of pain and suffering.

I understand it. As a mother, when my kids fall down or slip I don’t typically rush, gasping for air, to their side. I found out many years ago that my level of reaction directly impacts their dramatic response to boo-boos, especially if it’s a minor scrape or bump. Most times when one of our kids takes a spill, I casually walk over to them and I try to remain calm while inspecting them, asking them quietly, “Tell me where it hurts.”

But even on my most amazingly calm mothering days, once I see blood in a large quantity my heart flips, my stomach turns and suddenly my outlook on their injury changes. My heart thumps a little harder.

Seeing blood sort of does that to you, doesn’t it? I know movies that are rated R because of graphic and violent content often have copious amounts of blood and gore involved.

After all, people can die and there can be hardly any visible blood at all. I’d wager a guess that most deaths occur without the horrific shedding of blood.

So what makes Hebrews 9:22 so relevant then?

“Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.”

The writer of Hebrews has just finished a lengthy section on the old covenant and the law. In verse 18 he says, “not even the first covenant was inaugurated without blood.”

It seems that blood is required by God, no matter which covenant His people fall under, to forgive and atone for sins.

Why is that? Why blood? Why not the hides or skins of animals? Why not a lock of hair? Why not bars of gold or precious jewels?

The truth is, blood is life.

Blood is proof.

Living things need a certain volume of blood to sustain life. Without blood, our life slips quickly from us. Blood provides a certain proof that damage has been done to the body, that injury has occurred, that pain and suffering have most likely been involved.

Jesus could have died in many other forms. God could have ordained for him to die in numerous other ways: leprosy, cancer, malaria, dehydration or a simple infection.

But instead, God chose to hang Jesus on the cross. He chose for Christ’s sacrifice to be made public. He knew that blood needed to be in the equation so that all could partake in the transforming power of forgiveness with the shedding of blood.

Christ’s blood was proof. Proof that the sins were atoned for once and for all.

“For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with the ashes of a heifer, sanctify for the purification of flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to serve the living God.” (Hebrews 9:13-14)

Christ’s blood is a purifier. It is an atoner. It is the final proof that life was lost, sacrifice was made and new life has been given.

No lock of hair, skin or hide, sacrifice of goat or bull could ever prove what the blood of the Living King has sealed for eternity.

Blood is final. Blood is redeeming. Blood is proof.

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This entry was cross posted over on our church's summer session blog. Are you reading along? If so, how's it going? Only 2 more weeks!

Das Not Funny! Friday: Catfish bait

Oh mercy y'all, it's been way too long since I've written a Das Not Funny! Friday post. So many funny things happen around here every day. I laugh and try my best to remember them for longer than 37 seconds. Rarely do I ever remember them long enough to make it to the computer to get them down.

Paper is a lost cause around here. Do you know how many scraps of paper there are in my house thanks to my "crafty" kids? I think they're starting their own confetti making business.

Anyway, over the 4th of July we spent copious amounts of time at the lake. My Mom relayed to me the following interaction between she and Lucas.

Typically, as soon as the oldest 4 kids have on their life jackets they commence jumping into the lake from the dock, splashing wildly then swimming to the steps and repeating until they're water logged. One afternoon, the older 3 were sunscreened and lifejacketed up and the girls were already splashing and swimming. Lucas paced back and forth, up and down, side to side on the dock.



"Lucas," my Mom urged, "go ahead and get in."

"Meme?" Lucas responded, "Will you check my butt? Sometimes, you know, I don't wipe so good."

Lucas begins tugging at his swimming trunks while standing on the pier, stooping over for my Mom to get a good look.

"Lucas," she says, "let's go inside and I'll check you, okay? But not out here."

They walk inside and as soon as they enter the house, Lucas begins tugging at his swimming trunks again, struggling with the strap of his life jacket that is still securely snapped between his legs.

"Come on, Buddy, let's go to the bathroom." my Mom says, wondering why Lucas is so suddenly concerned with the cleanliness of his backside.

The make it into the bathroom, unbuckle Lucas' life jacket and he whips his shorts down, stooping over for my Mom to inspect his bottom.

"All clean Buddy!" my Mom says.

"Oh good," Lucas sighs, "because catfish, they like really stinky stuff. And sometimes, I don't wipe so good and my butt gets really stinky."

Sometimes, actions speak louder than words

Philippians is rich with practical, life-applicable truths. Four short chapters with numerous famed scriptures, so common that often casual church goers or even non-believers can loosely quote them.

To read the rest of this post that I wrote for our church's Summer Session, click here.

Happy 7th Birthday Elizabeth!

I hardly know how it happened. I blinked a few times and somehow, seven years went flying by.

At her first breath, she changed me. I went from being just a regular woman to being a Mother.





Just like that, I was everything to somebody. And the tiniest person I'd ever held became everything to me. I wish I could say that in the last 7 years I've taught her lots of things. But the truth is, in 7 short years, she's taught me most of the really important things I hold closest to my heart.

My baby, my very first baby is 7 today.

And what a treasured joy she is to me. At 7 years old, Elizabeth has the most tender heart of any child I know. She loves fiercely, freely and wholly.





She's easy going, laid back and yet, totally detail oriented.





She's always wanted to have a collection of some sort. I think she's finally found her niche with her collection of bracelets/hair ties. Seeing her arm full of them makes me laugh because she is such her mother's daughter.





I find myself performing the constant balancing act of allowing her age-appropriate freedoms and still keeping her closely tucked under my wing. She's determined to be independent, almost as much as I'm determined to protect her fragile, gentle heart.









Laughter regularly spills out of her, both because of herself and because of others. She's joyful and loves nothing more than a night with her family, some good laughter and maybe a few cupcakes thrown in for good measure.









And she is really, sassily silly. She knows how to make me laugh even when I'm in the worst of moods. She can turn on the goofiness and both of us are laughing in no time, enjoying the sweet release that only a hearty belly laugh can bring.

















She's a deep thinker, who loves the Lord with intention. She challenges Luke and I so much in many aspects of our faith because of her trust, understanding and belief in His power.




How I love this biggest girl of mine for so many reasons! Far too many to put into a simple post. She reminds me so much of myself, but then on another level, makes me stand in awe at the young girl she's grown to be.
I'm so proud to be her Mother and so blessed that God chose us for her parents. She hasn't stopped changing me since that first breath nearly 7 years ago to this very hour. And I pray that she never does.
Happy 7th Birthday Elizabeth! I love you so very much!

Miracle after miracle

Today we had our first visit to the OB/GYN for the new baby. It was an appointment that, for me, seemed to be the turning point for a lot of the things on the horizon of our lives.

You see, normally I don't start feeling the yuck of pregnancy until I'm about 9 - 10 weeks pregnant. When I was pregnant with Elizabeth I remember, vividly, the 1st time I threw up. Christmas day 2003.

I'd felt FINE up to that point and was certain that I'd be one of those women who felt nary a moment of sickness while I blissfully carried a child inside me. (I have those friends and sometimes - like when I'm hovering over the toilet -  I hate them.)

My Mom made the best Christmas morning pancakes and I justified my overconsumption of them with the fact that I was eating for 2. Washing them down with a nice, cold glass of milk seemed to be the best idea I'd ever had. Until approximately 30 seconds later when I threw every bit of it up. Upon exit, the milk was still cold, y'all.

Awesome, huh?

With Ella I, again, thought that maybe I'd side-step the months of toilet hovering thinking that maybe she was a boy. I was coasting into week 10 and had only felt momentary nausea, but nothing to stop me dead in my tracks.

Then it hit me like a freight train and the next 14 weeks I puked so much that Ashlee would hover over the sink, make wretched noises and feign "growin' up."

So when the pregnancy sickness hit me this time right at about 6 weeks I was shocked and then perplexed and then stunned. The only other time I've ever been sick that early was when I carried the twins.

With Lucas and Ashlee, my body's 6 week alarm went off and the months of toilet hovering began. At the time I didn't really think much about why I was sick so much earlier than I was with my previous pregnancy. At my 13 week ultrasound, we found out why. Baby A (Lucas) and Baby B (Ashlee) put to rest any of the questions I had about why I thought I was dying due to lack of food.

Flash forward to about a month ago. I found out I was pregnant this time super early. Weird things were happening with my body and I just knew. When the nausea kicked in at 6 weeks, I naturally began to let my mind drift to the what if.

Twins? Again? Could it be?

So today came as sort of a turning point for Luke and I. I called my OB last week and all but begged the receptionist to ask the Dr if I could have an early ultrasound. Truth is, if we were having twins our July 2012 departure date for Africa could.not.happen.


(I have several markers for another multiples pregnancy. Previous multiples. Over 30. Some other marker I can't remember now. Drastic memory loss (ha, kidding). Multiple pregnancies. A SUPER early positive pregnancy test.)


Some days, I was okay with that. "If we have twins and can't go, I'm okay with that," I'd think.

Other days, or maybe in the same day, I'd think, "But if we have twins and we can't go, what does that say about the certainty with which I felt our calling? What does that say about all I know about how the Lord speaks to me?"

Over the last month, I've questioned God. A lot. I've questioned if He is who He says He is. I've questioned if He'll do what He says He'll do.

I felt today had the potential to be one of those turning-point days in my relationship with the Lord. If I saw two babies on the screen then surely something was wrong at the core of my relationship with God.

One baby and my heart would be crushed a little, knowing the joy of twins and longing for that again.

Maybe it's stupid to stake so much on an ultrasound or on the number of babies in my womb. In fact, it was.

But I still learned much about my God today.

As the wand swept across my abdomen and ONE tiny baby was revealed I saw a miracle. The flicker of that sweet one's heartbeat flashing back at me.

A miracle. One after the other. With each little flicker. One that I pray I will never take for granted.

I never ceased to be amazed by the mercy, character and love of our great God as he pours upon us miracle after miracle after miracle....

Fresh Eyes

I don’t typically love it when people use well read scriptures to make a point. Often, I just want to ask them if they know of any other scriptures to prove their point.

And, let me tell you this little secret, okay? Lean in real close.....

Sometimes, when I’m reading my Bible and I come to those familiar passages of scripture..............I skip over them.

*Gasp*

I know. Total sinner.

It’s true though. I have a tendency to want something new. Something shiny. Something profound. But, one of the things the Lord has revealed to me over the course of this summer reading session is that He alone can make familiar scripture new, fresh, shiny and profound.

If I give it a chance.

So when I got to 1 Corinthians 13 I was tempted to just skip ahead.

It’s read at nearly every wedding (or at least it was at mine) and I can loosely quote it without much effort.

But today, reading it was different. I realized, too often, I entertain my family, I tolerate my family, I even accommodate my family. But do I really treat my family with love? The love that is described in 1 Corinthians 13?

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” - 1 Corinthians 13:1

Today, I didn’t speak in tongues (well, not the appropriate kind anyway) yet I told my children at least 5,783 times to (please for the love of God) speak nicely to one another, while I was doing the exact opposite.

Clang. Gong. Call me a cymbal.

“And if I give away all that I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing” - 1 Corinthians 13:3

Yesterday I thought, “All I do is work, work, work, work, work for these kids. Fix their food, get a snack, pour a drink, change a diaper, wipe a nose. And they don’t appreciate me one bit! Maybe I should just sit on my duff all day and then they’ll see how much I do for them!”

Here I am. Nothing gained. And I can guarantee you my children picked up on my lack of love.

“Love is patient, love is kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

This week, I’ve certainly been impatient. “I’ve told you too many times. STOP YELLING!”

More than a few times I’ve been less than kind. “Why can’t you just focus on what I’m telling you?”

I’ve been envious of the seemingly easy life someone else has.

I’ve been rude. “Why are there perfectly clean clothes in the dirty clothes bin? Do you enjoy making me do more laundry?”

I’ve insisted on my own way. “Please just stop doing that and get over here and put on your pajamas. I can see your Thomas train. I’ve seen it before. Please, hurry up!”

Irritable? Me? “Your behavior is totally getting on my nerves, kid. Totally.” Maybe just a touch.

How could a mother possibly rejoice in wrongdoing? “I’ve told you not to stand in that chair. When you fall off, it’s going to hurt and I’m not going to feel sorry for you because I’ve told you to get down several times already.”

The rest of 1 Corinthians Chapter 13 promises us that prophecies, knowledge, tongues and the partial will all pass away one day.

But love? It NEVER ends.

God’s love never ends. It never ceases to be poured upon me. Even when I’m rude, impatient, hurtful, insistent, envious and boastful.

Never ending love poured upon me while I’ve shown very limited love to the people I love the most. Oh Jesus, how unworthy I am of You! How your word refines me when I allow myself to delight in it!

And to think, I would have totally missed this had I just skipped over those familiar verses.

I pray the Lord gives each of us fresh eyes as we encounter Him on the pages of Truth.

I like to link it, link it

Sometimes you just read someone else's blog post and think, "Dude. If it weren't against a few laws, I'd totally steal that and post it myself."

Instead I'll just link.

This post by Missy at It's Almost Naptime will get your wheels turning about the Caylee Anthony story. I didn't follow the trial but I agree with what Missy says.

Amy and her husband Todd are moving their large family to Guatemala to be missionaries. This post she wrote about taking their children on the mission field is superb. She's basically been reading my journal.

I totally relate to this post Mary Grace at Books and Bairns wrote about feeling lonely while surrounded by tons of people. It's an odd phase we're in right now, preparing to move, loving the people in your life yet looking ahead to life without them. It's strange to say the least.

Finally, this post by our friend Neil on our church's Summer Session Blog speaks greatly about how the Bible has changed his life. And I feel the exact same way. God's word refines my heart continually and draws me to Him, wooing me with His love.

Hope y'all had a superb weekend and an awesome Monday.

I'm gonna go spend the day trying to school our children and NOT throw up. Both incredible tasks worth every ounce of my effort. :)

Suffering. Endurance. Character. HOPE.

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
(Romans 5:3-5 ESV)

I want hope and power via the Holy Spirit. I want to know God’s love intimately. I’d even like a healthy heaping of hope.

But you know what I don’t want?

I don’t want to grow my character. I certainly don’t enjoy practicing endurance. And, without a doubt I do not want to suffer.

Who signs up for that?

Lately, I feel like the Lord is hard at work procuring in me hope. But, I think I’m missing it. You see, I feel a lot lately like I’m suffering. I even feel like He’s hard at work sculpting and shaping my character. He sees a blemish in me and makes it glaringly obvious that it’s an area of my character that needs refining. Bring in the suffering. I meander along, enduring it, but not necessarily growing my endurance. And you can be sure that I’m not rejoicing in it one bit.

I think that the Lord is holding up to His end of this refining process. He’s ordained the suffering and refining my character. But I am not willing to do more than endure it. Which should not be confused with building my endurance. Truly, I’m not holding up to my end of this process.

About a year ago, a friend of mine talked me into running my first ever 5K race. By nature I am NOT a runner. In fact, even when I was a college athlete in prime physical condition I loathed running. Still, this sweet friend of mine encouraged me and helped me train for this race.

With every training session, I endured the pain. I pushed through the shin-splints. I logged the miles and miles of pre-5K runs. But it wasn’t with joy. In fact, I thought about faking an injury just so I could stop. (I didn’t.)

After all, I’ve always said that my favorite part of running is the stopping at the end.

Race day came and my sweet, marathon-running friend trotted happily beside me while I endured 5 kilometers of a race I wasn’t even sure I wanted to run. She chatted and I fought vomiting. The finish line came in sight and suddenly, I was joyful.

Not because I had spent hours training. Not because I had grown a friendship to a new level. Not because I had strengthened my body and challenged myself to grow. All of those things would have been awesome things to be joyful about.

I was joyful because it was almost over and I could go back to my normal life of hating running and never doing it again.

Unfortunately, I look at Romans 5:3-5 in much of the same way. During the suffering, I don’t stop and take joy in what the Lord is doing in my life. I don’t joyfully look upon the fruits of my character building. And I often miss the hope poured into me by the Holy Spirit.

Sadly, I spend all of my time looking for the finish line. Praying for the suffering to end. Hoping not more in the Lord but in my own capabilities for a finished result.

I pray that I can begin to look at life’s trials and sufferings as character growing, endurance building and hope breathing seasons in the Lord. Romans 5 clearly states that the end cannot come without the means.

What are you simply enduring right now? How can you turn it into a season of endurance building instead? Allow God to refine you and in turn, pour His love into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.

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I wrote this post for the Summer Session Bible Reading plan my church is doing. If you're reading along, what do you think? If you're not, it's not too late to start!

A link to a post about having a big family

The half-question/half-comments have already started. (I say half-question/half-comments because I don't think people really want an answer from us. Instead, they want to make a comment and make it seem like they are being careful and concerned.)

"You know how that happens, don't you?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Are you trying to be like the Duggars?"

While the vast majority of people congratulate us, it's usually followed with, "Y'all are crazy."

If loving our kids and following God's desires for the size of our family makes us crazy, then I guess we are.

So this morning when I read Kate's (from Savvy Little Women) post, I was so encouraged.

Not because they're considering purchasing a trampoline.

But because of this link to a post on John Piper's blog.

Seriously, go read that. It's awesome. And convicting too. Convicted my socks right off.

Happy Monday y'all!

Das Not Funny! Friday: Super Hero Squat

Welcome to a video version of Das Not Funny! Friday.

Y'all, superheroes have been a big deal in our house for a long time now. Remember that time Lucas was being a superhero and punched Luke in the junk? That still makes me laugh out loud, no matter how much my hormones are out of control.

Anyway, Lucas waxes and wains between wanting to be a superhero and wanting to be a cowboy, whose cap gun isn't nearly as lethal as his death stare.

The stick horse makes the picture.

Most of the time, the big girls will play "Super Hero Squat" with him. Last week, the older 3 watched something on TV where the superheroes wore masks. It took our superheroing to a whole new level.

I spent a ridiculously small amount of time fashioning the worst masks on the planet. I secured them to my children's heads using elastic headbands. I tied towels and various other fabrics around their necks with hair ties. Clearly I was trying to break every rule of Strangulation Prevention 101.

But my kids were happy.

When Luke called on his way home from work, I asked if he wanted to tell the kids about the new baby that night at dinner. We decided we would, but we wanted it to be in a creative and fun way.

Don't you dare judge us for our lack of creativity. I had about 20 minutes and 12 hands all over me while I brainstormed my heart out. This is what we came up with.... (You may have to view it full screen because I'm a genius and recorded it on our iTouch, not even thinking about it being so stinkin' tall.)

Who's Gonna Hero Up? from The Beaver Bunch on Vimeo.

Things I love about this video.

1) The look on Luke's face as I pan the camera around to him, whilst asking him if we have another superhero. In his Type A mind he's thinking, "Woman! We did NOT rehearse this. WHAT SHOULD I DO!?!"

2) At 0:49 seconds in and Aaron and Olivia begin their tirade of questions and attention gainers."Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!!!"

 I also love that our other children are completely unfazed by their chaos and continue on with their life, like it's normal.

3) "MOMMA'S BURFDAY!" Eh, so not everyone hits the mark the first time. Maybe she should change her name to something besides Super Speed.

4) At 1:40 Lucas punches Elizabeth for saying we need another boy. Obviously he's not willing to share his Super Hero status.

5) "Before your Anniversary?" That would be seemingly a good question, except I'm willing to bet she has no idea when our Anniversary is.

6) The yelling to say, "STOP YELLING PLEASE!"

7) The random bowling pin at 2:14 and how I didn't miss a beat. (It was courtesy of Aaron, by the way.)

8) The Ella Goat eating the baby's foot. And her subsequent response.

9) "Do, do, do doot, doot! I'm gonna have........................................" Insert the longest pause ever while she counts her siblings. Almost like she's never counted them all before.

10) "Can I be a big brother again?" Followed by, "Wooooohooooooo! BAM! BAM! BAY-BAY!"

and finally, perhaps the thing that makes me laugh most,

11) "CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE."

If you ever wondered what a typical evening is like for us, this is it. This is real life y'all. REAL LIFE. Perfectly displaying each of their personalities.

Happy Friday!

Anything but common

I love the ESV version of Acts 10:15. “And the voice came to him again a second time, "What God has made clean, do not call common."

Specifically the fact that the Lord references the unclean, or unholy foods, as “common.”

Is it just me or does it cross anyone else’s mind that they are just....common?

I’m a common Mom, living a common life. (Yes, I know we have 6 kids. For us, that’s common.)

Or maybe for you, you’re just a common person, working a common job. Your job isn’t fancy and you’re a creature of habit. You have worn the same shirt to bed since 1983 and you like it that way. By all standards set by the world, you’re common.

Or maybe you’re a rockstar during the day, but when you come home, your house is normal, your food tastes the same as everyone else’s and really, your life is just.....common.

Heck, even Clark Kent was common when he wasn’t leaping tall buildings with a single bound. Right?

But you know what? I think the enemy whispers the same lie to all of us, no matter what day job we hold, no matter how many kids we come home to, no matter what our salary is or how flashy the car is that we drive. No matter if you flip burgers for a living or flip out $100 bills to pay for your breakfast.

It starts as we begin to feel the Lord drawing us to a closer relationship with Him. We see clearly that God is calling us to be set apart, to walk differently, to speak on a more candid level about our faith, to love the people around us that are really hard to love.

For each of us, this calling is different yet deeply personal. Maybe God’s calling you to start a lunch time Bible Study at work. Maybe He’s asking you to walk across the street to that cranky old lady and be her friend. Maybe He’s nudging you to tell that family member, who rejects everything about the gospel, the truth of your relationship with Him. Maybe He’s moving you to increase the size of your family. Maybe He’s beckoning you to the mission field.

For whatever God is desiring for each of us, He equips us to accomplish His work with scripture, confidence and authority by the Holy Spirit. Secure in our new task, we cinch up our pants, take a step out onto this new ground and the lies begin.

“What are you doing? You can’t do this. Why do you think you can? Don’t you realize that you are nothing special? This is huge and you’re just so.....common.”

And it occurs to us that maybe we are just a common person. Fear grips us, the idea of radical change baffles our minds and we become sold on the lie that we are common.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

When God meets us where we are and invites us to know Him in a deep and intimate way, we shed all things common about us. We shed the sin of our commonality and our past self. We shed the inability to be used for the glory of the Lord.

In essence we become quite uncommon. In Acts 10:15 the word common is used interchangeably for the word unclean. And I’d like to assert that when we buy into the lies the enemy so fervently yells in our direction, we are also buying into the lie that we too are unclean.

My friends, if you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, nothing could be further from the truth. And do you see the amazing parallel between being unclean and being common? Whether you consider yourself unclean or merely common, you are placing yourself in a position to accomplish nothing for the glory of God.

The truth is, whatever God is beckoning you to at this moment it is worth pursuing. Don’t let the enemy’s lies of your worthlessness, your uncleanliness and your commonality rob you of the joy found in obedience to God’s purpose for your life.

Flee from a common life. And when the enemy begins to whisper to you the lies and pains of your past and tries to convince you that you cannot possibly accomplish all that the Lord has laid out before you, remind yourself that you are anything but common.

Because, “For what God has made clean, do not call common.”

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Chime in and see what else is being blogged about over at the Summer Session blog. And if you're reading along, how's your Summer Session Reading going?

Once upon a time

Once upon a time, there was is a little girl.



She is the cutest, most adorable little 2 and a half year old girl her Momma ever knew. And she LOVES life.


She loves to talk and sing and talk and sing and talk and sing and talk. All of the time. Nonstop. All of the time. Always.



She is silly and happy and knows nothing about volumes that are appropriate for being inside. She loves fiercely, hugs often and affectionately and (aggressively) mothers her "little" sister frequently. (And by "little" I only mean in age. She and "little" sister wear the same size clothes, which is super convenient for their Momma.)



Her Momma loves her more than she can explain, even when she drives her Momma to the brink of insanity. Her laugher abounds through her house and rings in the ears of her family. She loves to eat, talk, be silly, sing, talk, jump, run and do all the things a two and a half year old knows is borderline questionable.



But most of all, this little girl makes her family feel so blessed. Blessed that God would choose them to be her family. Blessed that even though she didn't grow in her Momma's belly, she was chosen to grow their family. Blessed that she's going to be a big sister, again, because she's just so good at it.

And mostly, just blessed by her sweet, joyful, hopeful, always lively spirit.

And they all lived happily blessedly forever after.

Just like my Granny

All my life, people have told me that I'm just like my Granny. When Luke and I first got married, she told me something that, at the time, cracked me up so much that I really didn't think too much about it.

She said, "Jessica, you know, we're fertile people. All your Grandpa had to do was throw his britches across the foot of the bed and I'd get pregnant."

Turns out, I am just like my Granny. And baby, I'm glad that I am. ;)

I wonder about Lazarus

Below is a post I wrote for today's readings for the Summer Session. Are you still reading along? If so, how's it going? If you've not yet started, it's not too late. Join us! This week's post is taken from my readings in John Chapters 11-12.

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I wonder how Lazarus felt when we walked out of the tomb. I wonder if when his body jolted back to life, if he was disoriented and confused. I’ve done that when we’ve been on vacation and I wake up abruptly in the night and can’t figure out where I’m at. But I’m guessing four days in a tomb wasn’t quite the same as a vacation for Lazarus.

As he stumbled past the stone that was holding his body (and his odor - thanks for pointing that out, Martha) in, I wonder if he was smiling beneath the wrappings. Were his eyes fixed on his beloved sisters or on his beloved Savior?

As Lazarus reclined at the table with Jesus and the disciples as he watched his sister anoint their Lord, I wonder if he told of what he’d experienced in his four days of death. I wonder if he recounted for his friends the moment he realized he was indeed dying and then, the moment he realized he’d been risen from the dead.

But mostly, I wonder how Lazarus felt when he found out that the chief priests were plotting to kill him because his story was leading others to Christ.

Was he afraid of dying once more? Did he run and hide? Did he remember his final moments of his first death? Was he like me and forgot all the things the Lord had previously done for him and instead panicked and allowed fear to wash over him?

Or, did he continue to recline at the table? Did he smile at his persecutors and remember with fondness The Lifeblood that previously redeemed his once-dead body? Did he walk boldly through the markets, knowing that death had lost it’s sting?

Often, when I face a time in my life that, from all appearances, seems to be a crisis I forget rather than remember.

I forget the triumphs of the one who has rescued me time and time again. I forget the one that took this once-dead body of mine and rose it to new life. I forget all of the things the Lord has already proven to me, even though no proof was ever required of Him.

I forget that He has already conquered the world. And even if it seems as contradictory as a second death for an already resurrected Lazarus, it’s for His glory alone and my job is simply to trust and endure.

I wonder which side of the emotional pendulum Lazarus’ emotions went as he discovered the chief priests’ hatred for him. Did he swing to the side of fear or to the side of faith? Did he shut down and abandon all that he’d known to be true, or did he embrace his past, the statement his life made for the Lord and endure every persecution with joy?

Put me in Lazarus’ sandals and I’m not sure which way I’d lean. I pray for the Lord to increase my faith but often, increased faith only comes through increased testing.

How about you? Which way do you lean when the pressure comes to call?

Chock full O' Nuts Controversy

A couple posts ago, I asked if you were ready to hear about the deep, spiritual truths I learned on my trip to Guinea-Bissau. Resoundingly, you all said you were. However, two comments in particular stood out to me. Before I move on to describing my experiences, I want to address those comments first.

First of all, my friend Wendi (who went on the trip to Guinea-Bissau, too) reminded me that it was more important to get God's input than anyone else's. I love having a friend who always points me back the Lord and His desires. Thanks Wendi, for doing such time and time and time again.

Secondly, Lisa had quite a bit to say. You can read her full comment by clicking here, and scrolling to the comments section. It's pretty lengthy, but well worth going back and reading what she has to say. I'm going to address some of her comments and points in this post and will only copy and paste excerpts (or maybe even a dissection of sorts) of her comment. However, please don't just take the portion I have copied and use it as a jumping point if you'd like to join in the discussion. I really believe it's worth going back and getting a feel for the spirit with which Lisa's comment was intended.

I didn't perceive Lisa's comment to be offensive, rude or disrespectful in any way. However, she does pose some interesting questions about the spiritual realm and her experiences in Africa.

Let me preface the rest of this post by saying this:

This is my experience in Guinea-Bissau. I'm not claiming to know much, if anything, about Africa as whole. I can only comment on the limited experience I have from a 10 day trip to Guinea-Bissau, West Africa. Specifically the village of Canquelifa, where I spent the majority of my time. HOWEVER, while praying about how much of my experience to share in such a public forum, I did ask other folks, some who are missionary kids (now grown) - some former missionaries - some current missionaries - what their experiences are with the spiritual realm. Every one of them agreed that it does exist and it is active and that they had experienced it to some degree. Each of the people I spoke with told me of differing areas of spiritual activity. Some spoke of seeing the heavenly side of the spiritual realm (in Africa) while others spoke of seeing the dark side of the spiritual realm.

There are several points I want to discuss in light of Lisa's comment.

For starters, Lisa said,

I must admit I am always uneasy at how easy it is for westerners to experience the dark spiritual realm during mission trips to the “dark continent”. In my 25 years living there amongst the citizens – i.e. having them as neighbors, going to school and working with them (without the benefit of the usual segregation where missionaries tend to live in their own little “pockets” away from the “natives”), I never saw or experienced anything in the dark realm.

Lisa, I hope you understand that I do not in any way want to discredit your experiences. But, they are just that. Your experiences. And truthfully - examining your experiences against the backdrop of Scripture - I'm going to go out on a very shaky limb here and say that if you "never saw or experienced anything in the dark realm" then maybe you are fooling yourself. Because, really, I don't think your feet have to be on African soil to experience the dark side of the spiritual realm. In fact, one of the things the Lord reminded me of on the 1st night of our stay in the village was a dream I had when I was a very little girl. A dream that was so vivid, that 20 years later I can still remember details (and I can't hardly remember what I had for breakfast yesterday). I believe the Lord was confirming that the enemy does, indeed, attack me most openly in my dreams and that, indeed, what I was sensing was the presence of evil (both in my dream so many years ago and in the moment that I was currently in).

Lisa, I pray you don't find that offensive. But, truly, even in America before I ever set foot in Africa, I had experienced evil. Granted, God certainly used my time in Guinea-Bissau to open and give clarity to my spiritual eyes but the truth is, I've been in the presence of evil before. And, I'd bet that if you're being honest too, you have as well. No matter what continent you were standing on.

A sentence or two later, Lisa went on to say,

The only experience with witchcraft any of my school mates [She's referencing a previously mentioned boarding-school she was a student at - I'm guessing? Please correct me if I've misunderstood, Lisa.] ever had was what was found in the pages of western novels! My African friends would always be surprised that we had things like Wiccans in the west and not understand our fascination with the occult and eastern mysticism.

While I agree that the Africans I met were typically astounded with our fascination with the occult and demons, in particular our celebration of Halloween, I find it hard to digest that any of your African friends would deny the existence of witchcraft. I'm not for one split-second suggesting that any of your African friends participated in witchcraft, but I'm sure they know it existed. And if they didn't, I'm truly shocked.

You see, all of the people we encountered in Guinea-Bissau knew there was a supernatural battle and the power in spirits. It wasn't because they spoke crazy things or looked like crazy people. In fact, neither of those are the case. BUT, if I had to put a percentage out there, I'd wager that nearly 80% of the people in the village we were in had some sort of involvement with the witchdoctor. And it was obvious. Because, either they themselves, or their children wore amulets. See those yellow arrows below? They are pointing to amulets that are tied onto this sweet, beautiful, precious scared-to-death-of-the-white-lady-with-the-camera, princess.

Amulets bought from the village's witchdoctor and include spells, potions or who knows what else on/in them to keep away evil spirits and to bring good luck. But the truth is, those amulets don't ward off the evil, they attract the evil.



But I don't for one second blame that Momma for doing her best and whatever she can to keep her baby safe. It saddens me deeply that she is unknowingly exposing her baby to darkness. And I explained such to her. But she wasn't prepared to hear what I had to say.
And this baby wasn't the only one. Nearly every child we saw had amulets of some type on them. Some were less visible and tied around their waists, under their clothing. Others, more obvious like the sweet thing pictured above. And I know that the people in the village of Canquelifa believe in their power.
One young Momma, who looked to be about 17 or so, offered her life up to Christ. In fact, I had the privilege of praying with her, along with our translator Ruthie. The timing wasn't right to discuss with her the amulets that hung around her 6 month old baby's neck. But the next day as we made our rounds through the village, I saw her. Ruthie and I went to speak to her. Ruthe translated as I explained that now, with her being a new creation in Christ, she didn't need the amulets for her baby. She said that she's went to the witchdoctor to get them because her baby had a rash on her face. We explained that God could heal her baby, but He may not. Yet either way, the amulets were attracting evil to her baby rather than providing protection. Immediately she got a knife and cut them off. This was NOT characteristic of the new believers in the village. Most would tell us that they'd cut them off later, undoubtably, never following through.
Y'all, this was no small demonstration of faith for this young Momma. You see, this young Momma lived with her own Mom. As soon as her Mom saw what she had done, she grabbed the amulets from her daughter and told us, not-so-nicely, that she'd tie them right back on her grandbaby after we left.
If the people of this village didn't believe in or practice witchcraft, why were the amulets so prevalent? Why were they so fervently clinging to them? Again, I don't claim this is the way for all Africans, but for this group of people it was a way of life.
Lisa continued with,

I have always wondered if it is easy to experience the dark spiritual realm while in Africa based on the prissm through which we westerners view Africa – the dark continent where witchcraft and evil spirits run rampant! Thanks to national geographic, hollywood's depiction of Africa and missionaries war stories...

Oh Lisa! I know you are correct in how most westerners view Africa. And, it breaks my heart deeply. Some of my own family views Africa that way and, truly, it crushes me...and angers me.

Believe me when I say that I believed, before I ever went, that Africa is beautiful. Not only the landscape, but her people. I fell in love with Africa's people before I ever touched her soil. I can't explain how or why but I did.

Honestly, I expected to experience the supernatural while I was in Guinea-Bissau. I FULLY EXPECTED that I would see and experience things that I had never seen or experienced before. But, even that didn't meet my expectations.

You see, I expected to see the MIRACULOUS not the darkness. About a year or so before I went, one of the teams from our church went to one of the villages we've partnered with to plant a church. One of my husband's very good friends saw a New Testament miracle with his very own eyes! Indeed, he and another man prayed over a lame man and the lame man GOT UP AND WALKED AWAY. Neil (my husband's friend - and also the husband of my good friend) brought home the man's walking stick. I don't remember specifically how long the man had been lame but long enough that his thumb had worn a spot in the stick that he used to walk with. I'VE TOUCHED the not-so-lame-anymore man's former walking stick. I've ran my thumb across the wood that his thumb had worn smooth.

THAT is what I expected to see. Not the darkness. In fact, before I left the darkness never even occurred to me. Yes, I expected to see the supernatural. But not like I did. But I've found that God likes to surprise me more often than He likes to prove me right. But yes Lisa, I agree, and find it disturbing, that most western people view Africa as a dark continent. It makes me want to leave this country so much faster and prove to the people watching us that Africa is BEAUTIFUL and worth sacrificing a few comforts for the salvation of her people.

Then, Lisa reaches into my journal, plagiarizes my thoughts ;) and says the following,

To me, it appears as though we westerners never look at our own sins through the prism of the spiritual realm, but somehow the same sins in the “dark” continent and in Asia can only be attributed to this realm and not man’s fallen and sin nature.

I agree. And let me tell you all, America is out of control with the labels. Now, I'm probably going to start a whole 'nother debate but can I just go out on another limb?

I have some illnesses that run in my family. Sure, there are times with these particular illness can be situational, seasonal and sometimes even chemical imbalances. But the fact that this same illness has plagued my family for GENERATIONS should make me stop and recognize that it's probably less of an illness and more of a oppression from darkness. And I should be doing everything in my power to release my family from this bondage!

I know. Gasp! I said it. Out loud. But you know what? I think it's true. And not just for my family. Now, I am NOT saying that mental illnesses aren't serious. I'm not saying that they're not legitimate. But I do believe that Americans are very quick to get a prescription for their woes rather than renouncing the dark powers that potentially have a hold on their lives. I wholly agree with Lisa that Americans (and westerners) don't give enough credit to our own sin, fallen nature and the darkness that creeps around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. People! Our enemy is real. Why do we discredit him so much in our western world? THAT is why I desire to speak the truth about my time in West Africa.

(Cue the crazy lady stares and eye-contact avoidance on Sunday Morning. I'm ready. Bring it people. My family isn't any more messed up than yours. Let's all stop pretending, okay?)

Lastly, Lisa mentions that she cannot find any biblical evidence for the dark spiritual realm only existing in one geographical area.

Well, Lisa, I think you'll agree with me on this one. There is, in fact, one geographical area that is predominantly suppressed by the dark spiritual realm. It's little sphere of dirt and water called Earth. The enemy is called, among other things, the prince of the power of the air - meaning HE'S EVERYWHERE. And y'all he's out to get us, whether we chose to see him, believe he exists or give him any credit for the evil that surrounds us. He's not just chillin' in Africa or Asia. He's in the country you live in, the state in which you reside, the city you buy your groceries in and sometimes, even knocking on your door.

True, we are indeed driven by our own sinful selves and our fallen world. But he's after us. He's seeking to destroy us. He's looking for a foothold to drag us down. He's got authority over demons and forces and darkness beyond what our little minds can comprehend.

He's real, whether you like it or not. But, we should all take heart. Because, like Dave Ramsey says (and I'm gonna paraphrase here)...

"It's all going to be okay. I've read the back of The Book. It's okay guys. WE WIN."

So, what do you all think?