Memorial Box Monday: $25

I desperately want to write more often. I really do. But lately, it seems that God has answered my prayers to make me more focused, more intentional about my time with and without my children. We've been so busy around here organizing, moving furniture around, getting rid of things we don't use and having more structured homeschooling days, that blogging has fallen to the wayside.

And that's okay. It's okay that a silly little blog takes up less of my time than does my home and my children and my husband.

But honestly? I miss writing. Even though I may not be the best writer in the world, it's releasing for me. It's therapy, honestly. And when I don't have time (or make time) it all swims around in my head, often clogging up my thoughts.

I still read plenty of blogs (even though that has had to be trimmed down too) and one of my favorites to read is A Place Called Simplicity.

This family is super crazy about the Lord and about children. But if I'm being very honest, I will say that often I read what Linny writes, then walk away dumbfounded as to why I haven't heard from the Lord like that lately.

The Lord gently continues to remind me that I will more clearly hear from Him when I choose to invest time in my relationship with Him through prayer, Bible study and meditating on His word. And while I'm being honest, all 3 of those areas of my life have not been stellar lately. Relationships take work. One with the Lord is no different.

Over the course of the last few weeks, one of the things I have prayed is that the Lord would remind me exactly how I have seen him work in our lives previously. Remembering those things often triggers me to spend more time with Him, seeking His heart and direction.

He is always faithful, I'm the one who forgets.

So when Linny posted that she was doing a Memorial Box Monday post, I knew I had to join in, even if it is just this once. If you'd like to know what a Memorial Box Monday post is, you can read Linny's post  with a good explination by clicking here.

Basically, a Memorial Box is like in the Old Testament when the Israelites would set up a stone memorial for when God has faithfully provided for them. Then, as they passed that pillar again and again, they would remember God's faithfulness and tell their children and their children's children.

Today, I want to remember God's faithfulness, even in the details.

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Over 2 years ago, in August of 2009, Luke and I put our house on the market. It was the house of my dreams really. I was about 9 weeks pregnant at the time and we had felt God stirring our hearts toward missions for quite some time. We knew we needed to be out from under the debt of that house and ready for whatever God called us to do next.

I was scared. Here we were, contemplating missions, having our 6th child and listing our house for sale. It was a LOT. But, because we'd seen God be faithful in the past, we knew He'd be faithful again, even in this.

About 2 months after listing our house, we had an offer. It was contingent, but an offer none-the-less. Over the course of Christmas and into the New Year of 2010 our house remained under contract with a contingent offer. As my waistline continued to expand, my patience weakened.

Finally, about a month before my due date our realtor called and said that the people buying our house had sold their house. We settled on a closing date of March 3, a mere 5 days before my due date with Ella.

Here's where the Memorial Box comes in (as if selling a house in the 1st plummet of the housing market wasn't enough).

Since Ella was due March 8th, Luke and I decided it would be wise to find a rental and move by March 1st. I was SO SURE that Ella would come early since, you know, I'D CARRIED TWINS. Heh. That's funny now. (She wasn't born until March 23rd, nearly 2.5 weeks after her due date and I was STILL induced.)

Ahem. Anyway, the 1st way that God provided was that we found a rental only TWO STREETS over from our old house, the rent was the cheapest of any we could find. We had amazing friends who jumped in and helped us move. It was beyond what I'd call a blessing.

It had FOUR BEDROOMS and we could move in at our leisure and just let the landlords know when we spent our 1st night and our rent would begin that day.

The drawbacks to this place were that it had neither a stove or a refrigerator. We sold the ones we had with our previous house and so we were not only stove-less but refrigerator-less.

We were moving in before the closing on our old house which meant we had very little cash to go purchase either of those things since we don't do credit cards. Once the house sold, we'd be fine, until then, we really didn't want to drop $500 on them.

After all, what if we never even closed on our old house and had to move all our stuff back?

In passing, a friend casually mentioned that where her Dad works they sell used refrigerators for $25.

TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS.

Uh. Sign me up.

I called her Dad and asked about a fridge. He had one. On a whim I also asked, "Do you by chance have a stove too?"

He did. FOR TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS.

Incredible and only the Lord.

Right now I'm struggling to remember the faithfulness of God. I'm struggling to see how we're going to have a baby, raise support and still get to Africa sometime before the turn of the century. But God is always faithful. And I just need to keep remembering that He's never left us high and dry. He's never left us without perfectly providing exactly what we've needed.

He's never not shown up. Ever.

And I trust that He'll do it again and again and again.

His own flesh

Maybe I could blame pregnancy hormones.

Or maybe I could blame being tired from being gone,  homeschooling our older 3 children or just having 6 kids ages 7 and under and being pregnant.

Or maybe I could blame it on the rain (I mean, Milli Vanilli did, right?). I mean, it DID rain a lot here lately.

But I should probably own up to the fact that my flesh just wanted to be mean.

Y'all I've been a real snot to my husband over the last week. Actually, more like a week and a half. I've been rude, stubborn, selfish, prideful, hateful, angry, selfish, easily annoyed, selfish.

Did I mention selfish?

And the thing is, he really didn't even give me a good reason to be mean and selfish.

Unless you count breathing.

Or talking.

Or just generally being in my presence.

Then, OH SWEET MERCY, then Tuesday happened.

Our oldest 3 kids went on a Thanksgiving adventure with my parents. They left bright and early Tuesday morning and I set my pregnant mind on getting our house in some kind of order. My darling, ever-patient-with-me-husband did exactly as I asked him (not so casually or nicely, mind you) and disassembled and moved an enormous bunk bed that was in the big kids' room. We'd purchased a smaller set and Amanda and I had plans to set it up on Tuesday. And we did. We set up bunkbeds, rearranged rooms, half-assembled a small dresser. You know, did LOTS.

Then Tuesday night, we got the bright idea to go do some Christmas shopping. About and hour or two into our escapades, the day hit me. Or so I thought.

Cold sweat, chills and extreme nausea and fatigue.

We headed home and for the next 12 hours my husband held back my hair and brought me cold rags as I battled the WORST stomach virus I've ver had.

He, as a result, had to take the day off Wednesday while I recovered from my all night pukefest.

Slowly on the mend, Thursday was better and somehow I managed to be a little nicer to my husband who had served me so graciously over the last 24 hours, despite my hatefulness the week before.

And then TODAY. I knew Luke was planning to work this week. I mean, he'd just taken off work for our Colorado trip and for his trip to Guinea-Bissau so taking off time at Thanksgiving was not really an option. Especially since he'd played nurse all night and day Tuesday and Wednesday.

But this morning, he got our three littlest darlings out of bed, fed and dressed them all before I stumbled into the kitchen. As I stumbled toward the coffee pot, he looked at my disheveled self and said, "You can go back to bed if you'd like."

"Huh?" I said, sure I'd not heard him right. "What time are you going to work?"

"I'm not going to work today," he said as a big smile spread across his face.

"What?" I said, in disbelief.

"Yeah. I'm going to take the babies and run some errands. Why don't you go grab lunch or something and take the day off? Just be back by 3:00 because you have somewhere you need to be."

What-tha?

At 3:00 I found out that my darling husband had scheduled me a prenatal massage. The BEST massage I've ever had, mind you. Then after my day off and afternoon of pampering, I went and did more Christmas shopping with Amanda.

Seriously.

HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG, so this wasn't suck up behavior.

Then it hit me.

He was living out Ephesians 5. Despite my nasty attitude, my selfishness, what I deserved, he was loving me as he loves his own flesh.

Why? Because of his love for the Lord.

Y'all, my man isn't perfect. Trust me. Earlier this week, I probably could have listed off about 10 of his flaws. Quickly.

But he loves me. He sacrifices for me. Even when I don't deserve it.

Even when I'm hateful and selfish and mean.

Just as Jesus Christ Himself loves the church and sacrificed his own flesh for her.

My prayer tonight is that if you've never experienced that kind of love, that you'll seek it out and find that Christ loves you much more than any human man could ever love his wife.

And you'll relish it in His extravagant love. Just as I am relishing in my husband's love for the Lord, which has been poured out on me, despite what I really deserve. Both Christ and my husband love me extravagantly. Like their own flesh.

Doing nothing

The plane hit the runway hard. I tried not to giggle when I felt Luke's body tense as the wheels of the plane rebounded and hit the runway a second time.

It was the ending of a long, beautiful, quiet and totally relaxing weekend. One that went by much too fast and yet incredibly slowly all at the same time. How is it that time can do that to you? How is it that the days can seem long but the weekend seem short?

"We'll remember the quiet, the peacefulness, the rest, this whole weekend a week from now when we're back home and the chaos has set back in, right?" Luke said, almost sheepishly.

He was serious. It's so easy to forget the refuge you've just enjoyed as six precious, screaming, emotional children are hanging onto your pants legs and wanting their needs met instantly.

My parents were rockstars, taking control of our small army of children, dispatching them to varying locations of family and friends, feeding, bathing, filling cups and putting kids to bed. Their generosity has continued to baffle me in the days since we've been home.

After all, they gave us that trip last Christmas. I was sure they'd say it had expired long ago. But instead, they continued to urge us to go, take a vacation, spend some time away from the kids, be alone. They were equally excited for us as we were excited to go.

We chose Colorado because we love the mountains. We chose a quiet little town because we wanted someplace quiet, without the hustle and bustle of a busy ski resort town.

It never takes me long to remember just why I fell in love with this man I call my husband. He's thoughtful, gentle, strong, considerate and he always makes me laugh harder than anyone else. Over the course of the weekend, I just kept thinking about how I wanted our own children to know and understand a love like that one day.

I'm not going to pretend our marriage is always sunshine and rainbows. In fact, since we've been home, I've been less than cheerful to my husband. He's not really done anything in particular wrong.

Unless you count breathing.

Which has annoyed me at times over the past week. As has every other aspect of his living.

I blame hormones.

At any rate, as I think back on our 4 days alone, in the middle of no-where Colorado, I think about how we did absolutely nothing and yet had the best time ever. No kids to distract us, no must-see attractions. Just lots of sitting and doing nothing.

And I realized that I'm so thankful that I can sit and do nothing with my man and still feel like it's been the best day of my life.

I can't think of a clever title about the Rockies that doesn't sound like a beer commercial

Last Christmas my parents generously gifted us with a vacation.

An all expense paid vacation for two. Just me and Luke (or is it Luke and I?). Anyway, Ella was a nursing 6 month old, I knew that my trip to Guinea-Bissau would come about the time she was weaned. And well, there was all that other life to be done somewhere in the midst of babies nursing, mission trips, schooling and such.

Finally, we have booked our vacation. The trip included airline tickets, hotel accommodations and even spending money and childcare. Seriously. We are just so blessed.

I've never been much of a beach bum myself and I love, love, love the mountains. Over the course of 11 years of us being together, I think I've finally converted Luke. So rather than head to someplace warm and tropical we are heading the mountains. The BIG mountains. We live near the Appalachian mountains so we figured we needed something to compare them to.

After much debate and looking at tickets and travel time, we settled on Colorado. Rocky Mountain National Park here we come!

We leave late Wednesday night and don't return home until late Sunday evening. Our children and dog will spend copious amounts of time with their MeMe and PawPaw and we'll get to sleep late, enjoy mountain air, sleep late, make spontaneous decisions on dinner, sleep late and hopefully see lots and lots of snow.

My soul is aching for some down time with my husband. Time for us to laugh with each other, talk about our dreams, goals and desires, pray over our future and that of our children and just hang out. We've reserved a tiny little cabin in the Rocky Mountain National park and I couldn't be more thrilled at the idea of settling in and not leaving for a couple of days.

Over the course of the last few weeks, we've made decisions for our family that have reduced much of the stress I was previously feeling. And while I'm not yet able to fully discuss some of those decisions, I will say that knowing we have a plan and that the plan is one to a happier, less stressful home is freeing.

I feel like this little get away is a the 1st stage of us finally letting go of some of the fullness in our life and looking forward to what God has placed on our plate. We were making decisions based on what we felt we needed to accomplish rather than what God desired for us to accomplish.

At any rate, the next time you hear from me (at least on the blog anyway) I will be snuggled down under some warm blankets, hopefully sipping some hot tea while the world outside is slowly covered with beautiful white snow.

Approximately 53 hours until our plane take off. But really, who's counting? (Oh wait, I am.)

Mission: Organization

I am not an organized person by nature. My VERY organized, structured, sterotypical Type A husband would agree that I'm about as far from a natural organizer as possible. Even when I was a kid I remember my room could be a wreck and yet, somehow, I knew exactly where things were.

That's true now too. I know where things are, usually. I can nearly always tell my husband detailed directions on how to find something that's, in his eyes, missing.

"It's on the counter where we used to have the fish tank in a blue basket."

Just before Luke left for Guinea-Bissau he was searching for a watch. I gave him those instructions and he came back later saying, "If you have time, could you find that watch. I didn't see it."

I went to the location I had told him, looked, and it was there. It was just in a blue basket under another blue basket. But still, right where I knew it was.

Even though I could totally function on a day to day basis with my personal (and often chaotic) style of living, I'm beginning to realize that with our ever-expanding family, real organization is key to having a thriving, enjoyable and even manageable home.

In fact, while we were gone out of town and Luke was in Guinea-Bissau, I had someone come and clean our house. That was on Saturday. We got home Sunday and by Monday the house was a wreck. By Tuesday, I didn't even want to be home.

I want our house to be a haven for our family. I want it to reflect the love and joy I get from having such a large family. I want it to be a peaceful retreat from work for my husband and a loving, organized, clean environment for my children (and myself!).

But y'all, this comes so unnaturally for me. And by unnatural I mean it would be like a shark eating seaweed or a horse walking on its back legs.

I have great ideas for organization. I have even tried a few of them. I've tried Fly Lady. My BFF Amanda sent me this book and I'm slowly reading through it, gathering ideas and desiring (desperately) to implement them.  I've tried bins and sorting and chores for our kids. I've tried systems and procedures and processes and what-not.

It all lasts about 2 weeks then we seem to have chaos hit our lives (sickness, travel, new baby) and then BOOM, we're off the wagon again and back to a cluttered, poor functioning house.

If you're a super organized, very clean living person, I'm sure our house would drive you nuts in about 57 seconds. Don't get me wrong - our house isn't up for an episode of Hoarders, and for the most part it isn't gross (I mean our kitchen/dining room floors stay pretty nasty) but it's just cluttered and unorganized and generally messy.

I found this blog where she's posting about 31 days to an organized home. I'd LOVE to try it but, honestly, I don't want to invest my time making our house more organized if we can't stick to the plan. Maybe I should try Fly Lady again. Or maybe there's another system or life-style change I could try.

Really, I just want to ask you:

What works for you to keep your home orderly, tidy and clean?

Whether you have 10 kids or no children, I find that this is an area where everyone likes new ideas, tips, tricks and methods.  I'd love any ideas, sites, references or links you could provide!

Thanks!

Dance Party

We like to dance in our house. A lot.

Notice I didn't say we are good dancers, we just like it. Olivia has never met a song she doesn't like and typically busts a move anytime there is any sort of melody playing.

Too bad she's too concerned with seeing herself on the computer to really show y'all her skills. This is currently our family's favorite dance song. We listened to it approximately 2,357,691 times on our road trip last week.

Enjoy. I personally think everything about this is hilarious.


Dance Party from The Beaver Bunch on Vimeo.

Military wives must be as tough as their husbands

11 days ago I took Luke and 5 other men to the airport. Their goal? To take the gospel to the unreached people of Guinea-Bissau, West Africa.

Over the past week, the kids and I have traveled over 1,500 miles visiting friends and family in Tennessee, Mississippi and Arkansas. It was an awesome distraction and I must admit the traveling wasn't nearly as hard as the last 2 days have been with us being back at home and Luke not being here.

I knew that he did a lot for me, around the house, helping with the kids, keeping me sane... you know, normal stuff. But I guess I never realized the details.

Until he was gone, I realized that I can't remember that last time I made the coffee.

Or took out the trash.

Or had to bathe the kids all by myself, multiple times in a week.

Or fed the dog.

Or put gas in the van.

I know those are just simple things, but they are simple things I took for granted.

And, y'all, I'm blessed with incredible friends. I got so many texts this week from people reminding me that they're praying for us. Then yesterday after church I realized we only had a splash of milk left. That wouldn't bode well for us the next morning. I sent out a tweet stating our "crisis" and said maybe I'd take all 6 kids to the store with me. Within minutes I had 2 friends text me offering to bring milk over.  Then, about 10 minutes later, my awesomely amazing friend Amanda was on my doorstep, gallon of 2% in hand.

Y'all, only God designs friendships like that.

The whole week I just kept thinking (in addition to how amazing my friends are) about military wives and how they do this day in and day out for months, sometimes years, at a time.

I have a few friends that are military wives and I've always felt called to pray over them but once more God allowed me a small glimpse into their lives and I know that I need to desperately be on my knees for them as they endure the time between when their spouses leave and when they return.

Y'all I had it so easy. 11 days. That's nothing. And I had a full time helper, my friend Grace, who skipped 2 days of college and took the rest of her fall break to bless me with her help and company.

I pray that the Lord reminds me often the sacrifice military spouses make and to pray for them earnestly. I hope you'll join me and if you know the spouse of a military serviceman or woman that you'll encourage them yourself.

I'm convinced that military wives must be as tough as their husbands, if not tougher. ;)

It's just about noon here and Luke will be home in about 7 hours. I'm so ready I can hardly stand it. Dear Lord, please make this day go by quickly.

Das Not Funny! Friday: It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a turd - in the bathtub

It's happened with every single one of our six kids. Still, every time it happens it grosses me out to the point of gagging, pregnant or not.

Ella is at the stage now that no matter what she eats she manages to smear it all over her body such that no washcloth can dare make a dent in her sloppiness. Typically after breakfast and lunch she requires a quick bath to scrub off all the sticky.

Earlier this week, I plopped her in the tub, added some bubbles and went back into the kitchen to quickly wipe off her booster seat and the table where she had fingerpainted with her Cocoa Puffs.

Approximately 1.5 minutes later I walk back into the bathroom and begin scooping full cups of soapy bubbly water over her head so that we could wash and continue with our day. About 3 scoops in, the bubbles part like the Red Sea and there is a turd. Chillin' on the bottom of the tub like Pharaoh's army. Ew. Ew. Ew.

Not only have I submerged my own hands into the poop water but I've also washed my child in bubbly poop water.

Not good.

I take my naked 18 month old out of the tub, stand her on the rug and drain the tub. I clear the debris out of the tub then realize I need some cleanser to clean out any hidden debris. I decide that I'd rather not have my naked, soaking wet, poop-washed baby sprinting through the house, so like a good mother, I close the bathroom door behind me and sprint down the hall to the kitchen to grab some Castile soap.

Soap and brush in hand, I dash back to the bathroom. My hand rests upon the door knob yet I am unable to turn it.

My sweet, darling, naked, slimy, poop-water covered 18 month old has LOCKED THE BATHROOM DOOR. I should have known. Pushing buttons is her new hobby.

"Ella!" I yell, "Ella! Unlock the door!" I jiggle the doorknob.

From the other side of the door I hear, "Eeeewa! Eeeewa! Ubba daaa!" as her pudgy little fingers rattle the doorknob, mocking my every move.

I knock on the door. "Ella," I say more softly, "open the door Sissy."

To my surprise, I hear her say, more softly, "Eeeeewa, ubbbba daaa ssssssss," as she gently knocks back to me the same rhythm I just tapped out to her.

This copycat knocking and jiggling of door handles continues for the next 3 or so minutes until I realize that my darling, naked, poopy-water covered child, who knows how to open doors and has done so many, many, many times against my better wishes, is NOT opening the door any time soon.

And why should she? I mean, what more fun is it than a game of copy cat with an hysterical Mommy?

I grab my car keys, praying our house key somehow fits the lock of the bathroom. It doesn't but it does manage to turn the knob just enough that I hear the click of the lock popping out the other side of the door.

I push the door open and find my slimy, naked, smiling babe standing beside the tub, bottle of bubbles in her hand, looking at me wondering why in the heck it's taken me so long to get back in the bathroom.

Y'all, it's never a dull moment around here. Ever.

Being holy

It's probably no secret that I pretty much adore my husband. I mean, I agree that he has flaws and he messes up sometimes. But, generally speaking, I could spend all day talking about how wonderful he is and how much he blesses me.

In fact, when we went to Candidate Week the psychologist, about 10 minutes into our 3 hour session, leaned into me and said, rather pointedly, "You over idealize your marriage. Which is odd because the rest of your scores seem to indicate that you're a pretty direct and blunt person."

I looked her in the eye and as nicely as I could say it I responded with, "I don't over idealize my marriage. I simply know how blessed I am."

My husband is selfless, strong, loyal, gentle and hard working, characteristics that many men do not choose to display. He is not afraid to tell me, our children or the important people in his life that he loves them.

Today, my man (along with 5 other men) leaves for 11 days to travel to Guinea-Bissau, West Africa. I went to Guinea-Bissau back in April. I'm so excited that Luke will have the opportunity to visit the places I went, meet the people I met and, most importantly, share the Gospel with unreached people. He gets the amazing privilege of sharing the power of Jesus Christ with people who may have never before heard His name.

A few weeks ago, I emailed several of the men in Luke's life who encourage him, challenge him and walk the road of brotherhood in Christ with him. I asked them if they'd like to write him a note to encourage him while he's half way around the world, disconnected from everything that's normal to him.

As the emails began to flood my inbox I couldn't resist reading each letter as I printed and sealed them. Every single time, hot tears stung the back of my eyes as I read the words of other men, writing to encourage this man the Lord has blessed me with.

They see it too. They see him, know him and love him.

Most of these men have seen Luke at his worst. Short-tempered with our kids, low on compassion for me, unshowered, unshaved and, even one of them, unforgiven.

Yet here they are, sending in words of confirmation, encouragement and conviction to this man they consider a friend. In fact, more than once they referenced him as their brother. Not just in the context of our faith, but in the context of their own families.

They see it too. They know him, flaws and all and they see it too.

I couldn't contain my tears as I stuffed envelopes, labeled them for each day of his journey and packaged them in a neat pile. Tears spilled over onto my cheeks as I thought about the time, the care and the ways these men have poured into my husband.

I stuffed in some additional cards from our oldest 3 kids, cards they've written, colored, stickered and sealed with copious amounts of tape.

Love. Poured onto paper for this man I have the privilege of walking through life with.

Over the last several weeks, I've prayed this scripture over Luke and the 5 other men that left today for Guinea-Bissau, West Africa.

Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”

(1 Peter 1:13-16 ESV)

For the past several months, I've watched Luke prepare, as best as he can, for this trip. He's studied the scriptures, prayed hours upon hours, received shots and prayed over me and the kids. And, in turn, I've seen a level of holiness exude from him that I've never seen before.

Will you join me in praying this for the men on the team and that the Lord will prepare the hearts of the people in the villages to hear about the greatest plan of Salvation the world has ever known?

I too would cherish your prayers as the children and I travel over the next week. We're getting out of town while Luke's gone so we can stay sane and (hopefully) make the time pass quickly.

Thanks friends.

It's a.....

With Ella, we didn't find out her gender until she was born. It was fun not knowing if she was a he or she for the duration of my pregnancy. There was great fun in finding out if we were having a girl or boy with the 1st words my doctor said upon her delivery.

We found out Elizabeth's gender (our 1st born).

With Lucas and Ashlee, well, finding out that we were having twins was surprise enough so we didn't feel like we needed any more surprises. :)

We didn't even know about Aaron or Olivia until we got the call for them on the days they were born.

So not finding out Ella's gender until her birth was new for us. Exciting even.

With Beaver Baby #7 growing inside me and with each little flutter of kicks, we'd planned not to find out Baby #7's gender until his or her birth as well.

That was until couple weeks ago when Elizabeth asked me why we couldn't find out what Baby #7 was.

"Well," I said, "it's really up to your Dad. I don't care either way if we find out or if we wait. But Daddy likes to wait."

A few days later Elizabeth quietly asks Luke, "Dad? Can I change your mind about something?"

I think Luke panicked at first, wondering what she could be wanting.

"Can we please find out what the baby is? Pretty, pretty please?"

Over the course of the last week Elizabeth has continued to prod steer trick beg persuade Luke into finding out this new baby's gender.

Today, was our "big" ultrasound, the anatomy scan where the option to find out the baby's gender was, well, an option.

In the waiting room, Luke's soft side won out and he looked at Elizabeth and asked her, "Well, do we want to find out what the baby is?"

She was beside herself excited. And so were Lucas and Ashlee.

That is, until the doctor scanned and then announced,

"It looks like it's a GIRL!"

Then all of Lucas' hopes and dreams were crushed when he realized he'd have FIVE sisters and still only ONE brother.

Y'all pray for him. :)

We couldn't be more blessed or pleased.

Das Not Funny! Friday: Work it out

I finally have managed to remember some of the funny things the kids have said lately. What better reason to have a Das Not Funny! Friday? I can think of not one more reason. Plus, blogging is fun.

Lately, Ashlee has begun old-school preacher length bedtime prayers. She is uber careful to include each person in our family. Including Brinkley. The dog.

"And dear God, please help Momma not frow up so much. And help her to work it out."

"And dear God, please help Daddy not to get frusterwated. And help him to work it out."

"And dear God, please help Aaron not to cry all the time. And help him to work it out."

"And dear God, please help Woocus not to hit and push. And help him to work it out."

"And dear God, please help Ewizabets not to be so bossy. And help her to work it out."

"And dear God, please help Wivia not to pee in her pants because it frustwates Mommy. And help her to work it out."

"And dear God, please help Ella Goat not to bite people because biting hurts their feelings and their skin. And help her to work it out."

"And dear God, please help Bwinkley not to bark so much because she's loud. And help her to work it out.

------

Ella has starting talking. It's so cute. Except when her answer is "Nuh." (No.)

I asked her if she wanted to contribute to today's post.

I bet you can guess her answer.

"Nuh."

------

Aaron has to be the fastest pooper ever. Not that I'm complaining since he does that in the potty exclusively now.

Yesterday while we waited on the older 3 to finish up piano lessons, we went outside to play on the playground. Naturally, as soon as we get down there, with no point of re-entry to the building he has to poop. We make a long trek around the side of the church (up a hill) toward the unlocked door.

Please keep in mind I am carrying Ella, who weighs just as much as her older brother and sister, at a whopping 27lbs, while Olivia insists on hopping/jumping/flinging her body forward no matter where we are going. And with no specific speed.

Aaron is walking on his tippy toes, butt cheeks squinched, hand firmly grasping his backside.

We hustle, hustle, hustle (I use that word loosely) up the hill, inside the building and back down the stairs so Aaron can use the toilet.

He sits and approximately 20 seconds later this conversations ensues.

"Mom. I done. Come wipe me."

"Buddy, push some more out okay? Get it all out."

"But I all done. I already gone."

"Just a little more, okay? Make sure it's all out."

(Fake grunt) "It all out now. Noooooooooo more poop is in my butt. Come see!"

Uh. No thanks. I trust you. I'm sure you worked it out just fine, all on your own.

Y'all have a great weekend.

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.

------

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.

-----

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.

-----

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.

-------

"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.

-----

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!"

-----

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....