In Full Control

So there is a little southern tradition that has been passed down as long as I can remember. Let it be known that no one messes with mama's purse. Now this has been a known rule in our household. My dad is still afraid to go in my mama's purse.  He will pick up the whole dang purse, all 28 pounds of it, and carry it to her.  Go in there?  Not on your life.  My husband says there might be a fiery dragon guarding mine. He says he's not 100% sure because he's never been in there. I suppose only I hold the key to that knowledge....

So when the technician working at our house went into my purse, he broke a big rule.  Family rules.  Took money hard earned.  And lied.

I ask myself the question after this experience has (prayerfully) settled...

God what are you teaching me?

I let my guard down. I left the house to the porch for one minute. Left the throw up trashcan I religiously held for my sick daughter on the sofa for a minute. And I was distracted.

Now you know when you have children you gain a sixth sense. It's called "you touch my kids and you regret it". It's a powerful sense.

You bring that little baby home from the hospital.  You make everyone cover themselves with a blanket to hold that firstborn.  Hand sanitizer.  You might get a security system. Carefully watch the house grow through the years, so to speak. You scrutinize who comes in and out of your house. Who is around the bubble you've carefully blown around your family, inheritantly good of course.

You might choose to homeschool or private Christian school. And while those are options beautifully written into many families (including our's), and it can for some people be affective with helping children walk through aspects of growing up, I try to pause to remember...

The enemy is also within.

It's when the enemy is inside your house. You've got yourself a situation now.

He's forgotten.  He's working.  He's there and watching.  He's waiting for you to be distracted.

This human enemy took my money. And I pray the situation is over. The spiritual parallels. They will stay with me.

And before we left for church this morning, I found the perfect pink legging for the cutest sweater dress my mama gave my girls.  Hair was even brushed.  I smiled and popped a Bible DVD in the player. After hearing about the mess of kings in the Old Testament on the DVD my daughter says,

"I am so glad we aren't as bad as they were. People in the Bible were so messed up!"

I paused the DVD. I explained God used sinful people to proclaim his good grace. That the Old Testament operated minus the redemption of Jesus. Sacrifices. Altars. Sin. Killing of innocent animals for to make it right. The New Testament murder of the One innocent. Full redemption of sin offered as a grace gift.  Redeemed bodies at the second coming. The Bible=Gods rescue plan.

"Aren't you thankful those people messed up so much? I am because I don't get it right. I'm actually really messed up. Under it all, I am held together by the Maker of the universe. I figure if he's got that covered, he can keep me together. Forgiven. Redeemed. Don't you? He used sinful people in the Bible, just like us and he's changing us."

You see, we clean up well. 

And on Facebook one can live a fantastically amazing life. I like the country song, "I'm so much cooler online." Only the good pictures get published. When our kids perform nice tricks- well, they definitely go on there. (Bonus if they're actually good at that sport;)

People rarely air the dirty laundry. Good mom moments are plastered as a gold star even if it's just for our personal gratification and the moments we sin against out children? No one posts about that. No one updates statuses about depression. Anxiety. Overwhelmed. Yelling at our kids.  Uncertainty.  Sin.  The camera comes out when it's all good.  Good star moments.  Tricks.  Stars.  Coordinating outfits.  Selfies that say, "ahhhhh."

But I struggle at times, just like every mom.  I pray for sanctification.  God dredge the sin out of my heart.  Identify idols and replace with more of you.  He doesn't disappoint.  Discipline hurts but the reward to being closer to the sweet presence of Jesus, it's more of him.

We recently moved to a new house. Unsettling event taking place there.   I willingly let the enemy in.  For a short bit home didn't feel like home.

And I'm silly with my husband quoting Vanilla Ice, "Get in where you fit in." And suddenly I realize I'm not sure I fit in anywhere when I read the headlines today. Evil. Vile. Come Lord Jesus.  It seems so out of control.

But He's in full control and my home is where God is.

And it might sound hokey but at times when I feel unsettled, I touch my hand to my heart.  He's there at work prayerfully making it clean.  I continue to read God's love notes to me.  Drawing me.  Calling me to him, even through an unsettling experience.  Each day a step closer to heaven.  

Keeping my eyes wide open as I pray, Lord show me where you are working and let me in.  In my life.  My husband's life.  My girls.  Let me not be distracted by what evil happens around me, but catch us up in what you are doing.

Let me be a change agent.  

My home is in heaven where rust and moths can't destroy.  I can taste it here on Earth but one day we will all see his full unrestrained glory.

I am most certain God has a nice heavy purse waiting for me guarded by flaming swords because that just seems right.    

Moving On

It's so close I can count the times I have left to pull my van into this driveway.  How many times I have rock on that porch.  Times I will enter and exit that front door.  The one where we welcomed so many people through the years.  Where coming home from the hospital I stood with my still huge belly proudly holding those newborns. The one where my babies took their first of school year pictures.  I had no idea what was ahead, I was just beyond joyful for those little gifts and the grace gift of a house to put them in.

The door where I announced to my sweet husband our third pregnancy.  That he was going to be a daddy again.  His face delighted.  Our hearts broken when we suffered loss.  The decision to never surprise him again if I ever got the chance...

We'll take one final picture there in a couple of weeks.  It will be vastly different than the one we took there as newlyweds, pleated jeans, fantastic glasses, a flannel shirt and another pink sweater with silver sparkles.  (I still can't decide if the juniors department is the place for me...). We were so young, ready to make memories.  Establish a family.  Our new picture will be silly. With our two girls.  Moving for their future.  For our future.  Because God authored this move, and we all eagerly await his plans, because whatever is in store, it is good.

I learned to cook in that kitchen.  Literally I have come from a girl who used to open a jar of pasta sauce, boil pasta, and y'all that was homemade.  To now- making my own bone broth and deodorant that I could eat if I had to.  I had no idea she existed.  The dinners I burned there.  The buzzer that rings and my little girl comes running to taste.  The buzzer my big girl has learned to turn off. And remind me that I still have food cooking in there.

That oven baked countless dinners- holidays, birthdays.  Birthday cakes.  Oh the birthday cakes.  I still never follow the customers requests!  They come out, I ice them and I cannot stop my confectionery bus.  Glitter, sprinkles, fondant 3D.  Everyone is always surprised at the turnout and I'm always hoping two things- they are actually happy and that they don't use the word, can I type it…moist.  (I just shivered inside…)

Those silly 2 and 4 year old girls hiding daddy's Rainbow flops under there.  Both pairs.  I baked for an entire year in that oven and we finally found them a year later after yet another meal had spilled down the side of that oven.  I think that crack between the oven and counter top houses every single dinner I ever cooked.  I am quite the mess.  My babies helping me cook.  Making messes together is something I've grown in to.   God's good grace to this perfectionist healing mama having these girls wanting to help.

This house has built me.

The air vents where my little girl, two at the time, discovered and loved to hear Tinkerbell shoes drop drop drop.  How I wish I had it on camera me explaining once again to that little girl we can't do that- vacuum in hand.  (End wrapped in panty hose, in case this happens to you…)  Her little face looking up at me all serious.  Then that rascal moved on to different families of toys.  Again, same talk.  How I do a lot of talking in this house…a lot of explaining.

That precious coffee stain on the carpet that I can still sometimes see.  The one where that little girl brought me my coffee on the toilet.  Bless her heart she knew I loved my coffee, and I had left it to use the bathroom.  All proud hobbling over to give it to me.  Because kids are messy under construction like that.  We are messy sometimes when we try to do good things.  And our Daddy.  Our Loving Daddy, smiles and loves and extends grace.

They learned to walk in this house.  Down the cul-de-sac street.  Skinned knees.  Fluffy carpet to catch their falls.  A safe place to fall has been my prayer.  Lord make this house a safe place to fall...

I wonder about that third bedroom.  I wonder about this mama who wanted more children, facing a reality that this may be delightfully enough.  That third bedroom served as a playroom.  A guest bedroom, but never a nursery.  I'm not sure that I'll ever feel like our family is complete.  Loss just does that I think this side of heaven...

I remember all the hours my husband spent nailing chair rail, crown molding for those other two bedrooms.  Painting it the perfect shades of yellow (touch of gray, not-circus-come-to-town please) and pink (pale, modern, again, not so much pepto bismol).  Getting those girls in the morning and from their naps, babies giggling so happy to see me.  Rocking and reading books, singing hymns my grandmother taught me, hearing them sing  along with me.  Smelling their scent when I walk in their rooms.  Goodnight prayers that are so big for such little people.  Night lights because Light makes life less scary.  Sorting clothes and two different sizes of panties. (Did I ever know that as a mother I would use the word "panty" so much?)

I remember that granola bar she ate that day in her room.  Wishing I had refreshed that infant/child CPR class because I felt so panicked.  My big girl very little back then, choking, and once again, God equipping me for a job I didn't know I could do- the Heimlich- on her little body.  Being so scared but relying on all those years of training at the church for summer day camps- all 6 summers- and I did it.  A young mom to a young child- God gently carries those with young children is a verse I cling to, because I know it's still true of me with not-so-youngs to this day.  

I'll never forget our garage gym, saving to buy those items with my favorite, and the workouts we did there.  The time we had to encourage each other.  My girls playing on the equipment. Santa even bringing them a pull up bar because Santa is an amazing Crossfit fellow.  That hard work always wins.  That being strong is not something to shy away from.  Strength, strong words, mobility is not to be taken for granted...

Those ceilings.  Those high ceilings that made Christmas limitless to my buddy the Elf husband, still putting maple syrup in his coffee, already wondering what Christmas will look like this year.  How I always had to go to the tree farm- both for fun but also to contain him.  How that one year I had my baby and stayed home, and he and my bigger girl chose the 11 foot tree.  How his face lit up as we strung lights and placed the special ornaments in the front, ones we don't like in the back.  I couldn't be upset at the blown budget, because he was delighted.  From that year on I never criticized...

The study room where I type this blog- painted a shade of yellow we chose similar to what was in his grandmother's house, we love our past and old things so much.  History tells a story and if this room could talk it- all the lessons of homeschool I have done in here!

A beautiful room turned home school disaster.  I need to call it what it is.  A disaster where I took on teaching my children at home and amid this mess, we thrive.  Amid the mess and loss of "personal time" and one income budget, and sacrificing stuff, replacing with time and love and energy, we never look back.  Our girls are happy, we are happy.  We carry on...

Looking back with very fond memories, yet moving forward with grace.  Hope.  Love.  Banking on the fact God has me.  He has us.  He has swept us up and moves us on, as a couple of people who like to "bloom where you're planted" this is a change for us.  Change is good.  We are right-sizing our home, right-sizing our life.  Right-sizing where we need to be.

We will be singing in a new location, off key with the mess, but perfectly tuned in to the Father.  

I'm taking friends and memories with me, leaving the structure of a house that we are so thankful for.

A home is where your heart is.  These people have my heart.  

Finding Time to Cook and Homemade Granola Bars

I used to make cakes for people and loved making confectionery dreams come true.  Today I still make cakes but on a much smaller scale.

Carrying on…one time a friend and I were talking about an upscale bakery in the area.  She said,

"She doesn't even turn her oven on for cakes less than $200."  

Wow.  Ok then.  So, thinking about this baker makes me consider a few things:

1.  Know your worth.  Stand firm in what you believe to be important.  Even Jesus had boundaries.  

2.  Make your time worth your while.  Which includes walking away sometimes and saying no.  It also includes giving yourself grace and learning from mistakes.  

3.  When it comes to meal prep and keeping people alive in this house, balancing budgets with nutrition and time and energy, two ideas have boosted my thoughts on time in the kitchen...

I only turn my oven on when I have several things to bake.  

I cook at least two meals at a time.  

I have a baking day, where I dedicate a chunk of time to baking.  

Plan meals ahead.  Plan ahead.  Plan.  Eating healthy and saving money requires time and energy.  I remind myself this when I really don't want to cook, shop, and really, really want to make a run through the drive through.  (There is grace of course.  But, grace upon grace is a slippery slope with fast food and sometimes makes me softer and rounder…)

I am like a bull in a china shop in the kitchen.  I LOVE MY GIRLS.  Basically, I'd prefer to be playing with them, ya know?  So I drop this stuff like it's hot...

Today we got home from church, I immediately grabbed the frozen crock pot meal and placed it in the crockpot.  Put rice on the stove with chicken stock I made from roasting my chickens.  

Put sweet potatoes in the oven to bake.  

Fried some eggs for lunch for us.  

Homemade deodorant for a few friends.  

Got the ingredients out for no bake granola bars.  We eat gluten free.  Gluten free can be expensive.  Gluten free out of a box also has lots of sugar and still is processed.  So some things I make myself. My little girl loves to make this recipe with me.  

A couple of notes:  When you are making things at home, you are saving money.  I am not a food purist, meaning, I don't use all organic ingredients all the time, just most of the time.  If you are making these, feel free to substitute as you wish.  Also, feel free to back off the sugar as you wish.  Drive your own cooking bus, baby!

Gluten Free Organic Homemade Granola Bars

adapted from a recipe from Rachel Ray

INGREDIENTS: 

1/4 cup organic butter

1/4 cup organic honey

1/3 cup organic packed brown sugar

2 cups quick cooking gluten free oats (Bob's Red Mill is what I use)

1 cup gluten free organic crispy rice cereal (I'm using gluten free Rice Krispies.  But, if you are feeling more crunchy, by all means go to Whole Foods and use their brand:)

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

2 tablespoons mini chocolate chips (Enjoy life has a dairy-free, soy-free mini chip I love!)

DIRECTIONS: 

-Mix oats and cereal together in a large bowl.  

-On the stove melt butter, honey, sugar to a bubbling boil.  Reduce the heat and cook 2 more minutes.  (I need to stress this- cook longer than you think you should without burning it.  Because if you don't, the granola bars won't stick together…)

-Mix dry ingredients with stove ingredients.  

-Lightly grease a jelly roll pan.  Press this mixture into the pan firmly.  Let it cool just a bit, then sprinkle the chocolate chips on top.  

-Let cool on the counter top.  (Or put in the freezer if you are impatient like me…)  Slice into rectangles.  Wrap these babies up and you can keep them in the fridge until eaten:)

Hope you enjoy them!  Healthy food?  Well, maybe not.  Delish?  Sure thing.  

Kid-Friendly Freezer Meals- How We Eat On a Budget

When I first started teaching, and I came home exhausted, my mom would say, "Teaching is like a muscle, Carla. It will get easier. You have to strengthen it."  She was right every single time- those 32 years of teaching just build wisdom like that.  Just like developing muscles, you literally feel broken down before getting stronger.

So come August/September I know I will be tired.  So very tired.  I plan for the tired.  Also adding the expenses of fall activities, I do this yearly challenge.  

This summer wasn't much of a break for us between my writing up the book proposal and then deciding to move and list our house within a week.  We are one tired family.  Happy?  Yes.  But newborn parent tired.

Before I continue, let me tell you why I ended up at Whole Foods.  You see, I was out of my Maca supplement (google it- amazing results are true go buy you some NOW) and I don't let myself not have at least 1.5 full bottles on hand.  It helps with my stress level, hormones, etc.  Please go buy some.  (Of course check with your doctor first…)  

I buy my Maca capsules at Whole Foods.  I was tired.  I didn't want to stop at the cheaper grocery store on the way home with my girls.  SO I BOUGHT ALMOST ALL THE INGREDIENTS AT WHOLE FOODS. I was under the influence of organic hemp seed oil non-GMO extract.  Or something like that.  Continuing...

Even with my Maca, I always always plan on my September being filled with crockpot meals.  But this year.  This year I found a winning combo.  I've made my own once a month cooking situations, using books from the library, and even have a whole board on Pinterest.   But this time, I used two different sources, added in a breakfast casserole, and really really like what I found (and tasted so far!!): 

1.  Ten Kid Friendly Freezer Meals with Shopping List

Copy, paste and print the shopping list on the above link.  

Click on each recipe on that page and print it.  (printable version makes this easier but this is time consuming- just FYI.)

Shopping:  Take a couple of days to shop so you have it all together.  Have your husband/wife watch the kids.  Remember you can sub out anything you need to!  I used all organic chicken because I was feeling particularly expensive at the Whole Foods.  Bulk shop at Costco.  Use what you have in your pantry, if you can.  Grate your own cheese.  (It tastes better, too!) 

There are two (three?) cans of things in this recipe.  You can find fresh if you need to or just work around it.  I also bought gluten free pasta, tortillas, bread, etc.  With more time, I would buy my gf pasta at Trader Joes and priced my loot at other places.  Again, your bill will most likely be cheaper than mine because of all that crazy!  

Assembling:  Get a mixing bowl to put the empty gallon-size ziploc in to fill.  It will make filling it much less messy.  There really is no order to this- take a recipe, do what it says, write on the bag with sharpie, seal it and freeze.  Your kitchen will be a mess.  This took me about 45 minutes plus cleanup. 

****We have a family of four.  These meals will be two night special for us!!  So, 10 meals is really 20 dinners for us!!****

2.  Paleo 10-lunch prep, I cannot find to save my life.  So I will just get this together in a jiffy and take a little shot from the hip.  It's a nice way to start eating less grains.  A nice gentle way to eat Paleo and clean.  And cheaper than eating out.  

Add this to your shopping list from above:  Rice, 2.5 lbs ground turkey, 1 medium red onion (I used shallots), 1 bunch of scallions (I omitted), garlic (I used Trader Joes crushed garlic), organic frozen pepper mix (you need half this bag for the breakfast casserole recipe below), bunch of cilantro, BPA-free entree containers

Ok, call the lazy police on me- I did in fact boil the rice on the stove (2.5 cups dry).  BUT, I put the entire raw ground turkey, shallots, garlic, half bag of peppers, cilantro, in the crockpot and cooked 6 hours low while we were away.  Stirred with a spoon and broke up the turkey.  Done.

Take 1/2 cup of the rice, take some of that delish turkey mixture, and put both in those entree containers.  Call that a healthy Paleo lunch friends.  Husband ate that today and said it was awesome.  And, nobody is judging if you eat this for dinner!  

3.  Easy Cheesy Breakfast Casserole

I had a pound of sausage in my freezer.  This recipe sounded so good!  AND IT IS!!

Add those ingredients to your main shopping list, too.  You will not be disappointed.  I baked this in a 9x12 casserole dish.  So like 6-8 servings?  We ate it for breakfast this morning, probably tomorrow morning, and I will freeze the rest in individual serving sizes:)

BREAKDOWN OF COSTS:

Whole Foods (minus the Maca supplement, with gluten free pasta, Against the Grain bread- amazing, but a treat for us, grain free tortillas- also a treat)  $181.16  

Harris Teeter (ground turkey, pork tenderloin, random spices I needed) : $48.72

Total Costs:  $229.88 = 20 dinners, 10 Paleo lunches, Breakfast Casserole (6-8 servings)

And remember, I shopped at Whole Foods and Harris Teeter without coupons:)  

PS:  Ask any questions you have about all that, and I will be sure to answer them.  I cooked the Sundried Tomato Chicken recipe today and it is so very good!!  Get excited!  

Move

When I was pregnant with our first child, it was quite the experience.  Like most honest soon-to-be parents, you wonder how you'll shape up as a parent.  In layman's terms, "Let's not screw this one up, dear."

So when the minister at the church came over to discuss parenting, baptism, etc, we were all in.  He said, "For my oldest I prayed for an adventurous spirit like (fill in the blank Bible person still can't remember)."  And I'm like, "Oh that's precious."

He left and I panicked.  "Sweetie, my prayers are simple.  Lord, please keep this meal down.  Lord, may I be able to bend over and tie my shoes."  You see, I had no deep prayers.  I had no vision for this baby other than she may love pizza and cheeseburgers, pickles and Tums.  Tums and cheese and crackers.  And gatorade.  Lots of that nutritious beverage.  Until I threw them up and can't eat that brand to this very day.

I just knew I loved her already, her kicks when her daddy talked to her, and that I was going to be on the ride of my life with him, my favorite best friend.  So far, having these two girls has been even better than I imagined.  And it gets even better...

Let's carry on…so when people named their children in this said church, there was always some deeper meaning in it.  Like I had to crack open a Latin meaning book to decipher what the story was.  I LOVED this kind of prophetic beauty, but when people asked why we named her what we did, we said, "We liked it" like no effort was involved whatsoever.  Lazy American way.  (The big girl was named in the hospital, on the fly as the lady brought the forms for us to sign.)  Let me add…we did find her name on a family tree from waaay back in the day.  Family name.

God knows I love a good giggle.  Like when I tried to tell a joke in Spanish today that wasn't even funny in English and I am still laughing.  Or when I tried to consign some clothes at a store last night and the lady said, "Umm we need dressy clothes" and sent me to a mom consignment store.  Now, I probably need to add I forgot I was in a dirty t-shirt.  With greasy hair.  And flip flops.  I'm not sure I would even consign my things...

So in January as he and I were planning and dreaming, he said, "Move."  And I asked him, "You mean off the bed?  Because this is what we do. We sit here and I try not to fall asleep.  It's our thing."  And he said back, "Move."

So I told him that was cute and all.  But I was fine where I was.  We live in a nice little street, nice neighbors, cute little bushes.  My problems are hidden, vaguely mentioned in this here blog, but enough to get by.  We are members of a growing church.  We have routine.  We sleep through the night and thankful for the roof over our heads.

Then my veins started hurting in the back of my legs.  (Someone is reading this and thinking that is an "old lady" problem.  No no, you are overlooking that it actually was a backup of superpowers in my legs needing some shaking.)  What made it better?  Running.  A lot.  Moving.

Members of our family started packing up and moving different places.

I wrote a book proposal that was considered by a publishing company about a topic dear to my heart and wide-eyed open, meeting women along the way who opened their hearts up to me.  It became this project bigger than me, stronger than something even I could muster up, and I'm waiting to move.

Then he told us to look for houses.  In three different zip codes with our agent, bless his sweet heart.  Then he told us the location.  And we got our house ready in less than a week.  (Act of God right there.)  I am about as exhausted as having a newborn and my children are not allowed to eat in the house until it sells.  (I wish I were kidding.  Reality is this:  I let breakfast slide.  Mkay?)

So this is all fine and good and here's the thing:  When God moves, it isn't always convenient.  I am homeschooling in the back of my van (down by the river…).

Some say it isn't the best time for selling.  So here's the second thing:  When God moves, don't question it.  Press on without fear.  He brought you to it, he will bring you through it.  

The third thing:  When God says move, look for ways he is confirming your steps.  Pray to see him at work.  He's constantly working, whether or not you have eyes to see.

He is moving.  The goal:  to move with him.  He can't steer a stagnant ship.  Take that first step out.  Test those waters.  Then move.

Oceans Deep

As we walked towards the waves rolling, giving the water a toe check, I looked towards all the blue. Looking out on the water.  Far.  Limitless.  Deep.  Freedom.  The water felt strong and brushed over my feet angry, carrying sharp, broken shells.  Taking the sand from beneath me.

"Sweetie, be careful. The water is strong." I said offering up only one cup of weak coffee answers.

Then I realized like every home school mom, I could make this a lesson.  Not take the easy way out and give lazy, pat answers.  "I mean the water is not strong in itself, the current is strong."

We've talked about rip currents.  My husband dutifully teaching my swimmer girls how to swim parallel out of the current.  Not to fear going in the dark ocean for fear of the jellyfish.  That everything in life requires risk and most of the things we worry about never come to pass.  Play in the waves.  Sing songs and throw your head back and laugh and get sandy.  Go all in.

I repeated the same thing when my little girl asked me to fish for minnows. "The current is strong. It is hard to catch them right now. Just wait."

Water is not strong. It is alive and carries microorganisms and parasites to inflict harm. Carries disease when it is stagnant. Alive and moving it carries life through our bodies and is critical for our well-being.

The current of Gods love is unstoppable. Like the minnow you get caught up in this divine love. You have to fight your way to stay in the current. 

Sometimes you swim alone. 

But you are always always carried by his love. The current protects you from the one who walks around like a roaring lion to devour you. It makes you harder to catch.  In fact, in this Great Love we can never be plucked away from God.

There's freedom in the current. I am swept up to the divine plan for my life. It does not require me to conspire, but dream. It is an active faith and one that is expectant for this love power current.

God is moving. He is working. Am I looking? Have I stepped out bravely to swim in the deep?  To follow Jesus in the dark, to stay with him there even when you quiver a bit, transforms you to brave.  Makes you confident, not leaning on crutches that will fail you, but a Savior who redeems.

I'm taking swim lessons as an adult. I look like and feel like a, well, a moron in my swim cap and goggles. I take them anyway and listen to my teacher.

I'm signed up for a triathlon in the fall knowing full well my money is on my college friend, the gymnast, diver, who is joining me on this adventure. Who I told to swim on, bike on, run on, and cheer me on at the finish.  I'm telling her to please win the race.  I'm telling God, please may I just finish and not die, dear Lord.

I carried my book proposal to two publisher meetings, sharing not only my shortcomings, opening my heart up like surgery, but also the story of my right fallopian tube, and a baby dream that never was. I spoke with a quiver and a shake.

I presented my proposal to a publisher.  She read my words and cried.  This story. This message of divine hope through loss.  It connects two separate lives and one professional, suited up stiff to bring good stories to market, one mom in need of grace who is there because of obedience to this love call, not really sure how she got there to begin with, only knowing the One who called her.  Uncertain to where it might end up but the experience, the change, is what drives the ship.

His love current sweeps you up. It brings you to shepherd, to love, to extend grace.  From the shallow to the deep recesses of the heart.    

Like my husband when I forgot the beach bag.  Walking up to the dunes, a several block trek back to retrieve, "You've been through a lot the past two months. I'm going to get it. I understand."

Or the woman I met at the conference who was rescued from years of sex trafficking. She believes the only way she could forgive was from the only one who could forgive her fully, enough to die on a tree.  She bravely tells her story and is caught by this love.  Carried by this love.  Transformed by grace.

Grace measured at the cross.
Love strong enough to move stagnant waters.
Faith deep enough to dream.
Hope in the gray, glitter where the pain meets Jesus.

I am not worthy, Jesus. I am not worthy but may your love flow strong. Making the meek speak your name and hard hearts softened by your grace.

How We Eat Paleo/Traditional on a Budget- Roasted Chicken

I'm not a homesteader. I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV.  However, I read and research food and nutrition a lot.  Food can be medicine or a slow form of poison.  A large percentage of Americans are malnourished.  Now we may not have distended bellies, but things have a way of expressing themselves through symptoms.

I sound like a lot of fun, right?  Well, friends, I have seen first hand the power of good nutrition, and the rub with not being able to afford some ideal things.  One way I've tried to marry whole foods with our monthly budget is making a lot of stuff myself using good ingredients that pack a firm nutritional punch.  I'll pause here and say you might have more money, you might have more time.  Pick your battles.  (We have one salary and I homeschool.  Not sure where that puts me...)

So, once a month I have a chicken roasting day.  From these two chickens I can make 4 meals for my family plus enough broth for the month for rice and other recipes.  (Links to recipes I love are listed at the end. ) This is how it goes.

First I buy two organic chickens from Costco.  (Chickens from a local farm even better, or your budget might call for regular chickens.  Just be prepared that conventional chickens are pumped with water so the weight on the package is the same as their organic comparison, however the organic will yield more meat.  The conventional chickens will shrink.  True story.)

 Get out your roasting pan.  (My $5 beauty will one day be replaced with a finer version.  Until then I carry on.)  Preheat your oven to 450.

Pat those babies dry. (This will make it crispy delicious.)  If your birds have a bag of "stuff" in them, that's the cats meow for nutrition.  I won't tell you what the contents are exactly, but you have to eat them.  Put the contents of that bag into your crockpot immediately after getting them out.  Do that with the second bag o' stuff, too.  Cover it with water.  Set the crockpot time on low 12 hours.

                                           

Rub the chickens with sea salt (Himalayan sea salt is also good.  Both types have more nutrients than table salt.)  Place them nicely in the pan.  (They cook better if you treat them well and throw in some sweet talk.  Research never lies.)

Cook the chickens for an hour or until your meat thermometer reaches done.  I threw some apples and butter in a pan for dinner while I waited.  Sprinkled some cinnamon on them, some water, etc.  

Eat that little piece there at the end.  (You will thank me.  You're welcome.)

Let them cool a bit and take the chicken off the bone.  Now, as you debone, put the bones (not the skin) in the crockpot with the other stuff.  Let the chicken bones cook for at least until you get back from Bible study.  (Oh man, sorry. That's what we are doing.) Now I don't flavor the chicken. If you used a rotisserie chicken precooked from the store it will add more flavor.  Sometimes I will do that if I am pressed for time. (The reason for cooking the broth so long is this- you want to soften the bones and joints so you consume more collagen.)

After the time is up, strain the bones and you have some broth that is out of this world.  
Now, from here I do this pattern. 

Day one- We eat the chicken right off the bird and I make the broth.  In the evening I transfer the broth to cool for a few hours in a glass bowl and then freeze in freezer  bags or ice cube trays.
I set aside some broth, take the extra chicken and make...

Day two- Sweet Potato Apple Soup in my crockpot, Chicken Noodle Soup on the stove, and Bowtie Chicken Alfredo or some other chicken/pasta bake for dinner that night.  I freeze the soups in individual bags for a quick warm lunch treat.  Last winter I was so sick and literally thanked the Good Lord for frozen homemade soup every bite.  Chicken soup for the soul.  

Rest of the month:  Ice cubes for thinning sauces and the broth makes rice sing.  It literally sings.  (Or maybe that was just my family as they ate it…)

So my two chickens (around $23 together), yielded multiple meals and I used the whole bird.  The whole thing and drained that carcass of nutrients for my family.  My daughter who has been sick lapped up the broth like a little doggie.  It made all of the work worthwhile.  

Under the Influence

We had a lot of things going on this weekend.  I dutifully planned ahead.  Family coming in, swim team practice and then swim meet, my big girl's party.  (Did I mention they dream up cakes and I delight in making cake dreams come true?  We love cake.)

I split up the cake making over several days.  I did the party favors and planned party food.  I wondered about that little one in the big time swim meet.  I told her it was a race.  We gave her no option and she didn't complain.  She loved every minute.

So when I was volunteering after the meet, enjoying some lady time as my kids had left already, chatting and meeting new volunteering swim meet friends, you'll never believe what happened.  A wasp came from my blindside, landed on the tip of my nose and STUNG THE MESS out of me.  I ran to the bathroom, my face started swelling, my eyes got red and dear Lord I was dizzy.

My new friend got me an ice bag.  I grabbed my phone and sent out an SOS text.  Please come get me. Stung by wasp.  Please.  Quickly.

So my dear husband came quickly with medicine to get me.  As I sat to wait for him I just needed to cry.  I didn't because people kept asking me if I was ok.  I told them yes but knew the nose.  The nose, the face, the eyelids.  Huge.

The girls knew not to ask mommy about her nose.  Daddy prepared them.  "Ok girls.  Mommy got stung by a wasp.  It hurts very bad.  Please don't ask questions.  Her nose is very big."  All I could think about was the nose.  The nose will be big.  It will be bigger for tomorrow's party.  The eyes?  My brother-in-law bless him is visiting.  He can fix the eyes.

So of course they asked all the questions.  ALL the questions.  To the point daddy filtered them all.

Laying in bed, nasty sweaty from another sweltering swim meet (they don't disappoint), I called mom.  She was driving home with dad, she called my sister.  I called my sister.  My sister came and she took me to Urgent Care.  She is a nurse practitioner and basically the bees knees with medicine and taking care of me still, her little sister.  After shop talk with the other physician (please Lord no more talking, more work please) they decided to give me a steroid shot.

The shot that hurt as bad as the bee sting.  In the hip-de-dip.  Right in my cushion place.

My face immediately started going down.  And I started getting so very happy.  I laughed at everything.  So funny.  So happy the balloons we picked up from the grocery store almost went to the ceiling and I almost walked out of the store without paying.  That's called shoplifting.  I almost shoplifted on the steroid shot and it was hysterical.

So we drove home and I was very cautious with the knife that cut our dinner.  Our steak marinating BLED all over our fridge.  Into the tempered glass.  We figured we'd get that cleaned when we were done feeding and eating.  We fed, my sister bathed my girls, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law put their littles down.  Austin and I cleaned the blood up.

We took out the tempered glass.  We held the glass.  We laughed at our day.  Then the glass shattered into a million pieces through the kitchen, dining room, great room, in my shirt, in between my toes.  Slivers of glass.  Chuncks of glass.  Glass in my…well you get the picture.  Glass storm.

My sister read the books to my girls at bedtime, my sister-in-law directed me to work on the cake while she worked on the fridge, that the cake was most important as it was for my big girl.  My brother-in-law and husband cleaned up glass.  And cleaned.  And cleaned.  They got the fridge cleaned, the floors cleaned, the disposal cleaned.  You cannot imagine the glass.

And I finished the cake.  I thought it all was funny.  So very funny.  I finished the cake with all their help. (Well my brother-in-law ate the icing that fell on the floor so he filled an important role.)  I looked at this cake, my favorite cake ever, and I got teary.

And I became so very thankful for my family who carried me through this day.  

My sister who is my very good big sister worker for all things right for me.  My sister-in-law that moved the water cup so I didn't spill it yet again and basically did things I didn't even see to ask- knowing I needed them done.  My brother-in-law who had made the joke I needed to burn some crazy energy cleaning the house, well darn if he didn't eat those words and clean it without being asked.  My husband, who made the meat tenderizer paste and got the ice and made me lay down and just loves me.  He just loves me.  My mom that works from afar and let me cry and will pick up the party food tomorrow.

I wanted a perfect weekend.  I forgot things at the grocery, it was so busy I only tickled my nephews a handful of times, didn't play any chase games, we had things planned out the wazoo, but I wanted it to be perfect.

And as I sit here at 11pm at night, reflecting on the day, it couldn't have been more perfect.  

I wanted to honor my sister-in-law as she recently lost her mother.  We ended up laughing more than I can remember today.  Her mother would be so very very happy we did.  She was right there with us in spirit.

Tomorrow morning we are going out to breakfast, partly because we are all afraid to have me creating things under the influence of steroids.  Very very good steroid (legally administered) shot.  We will go to a place my sister-in-law and her parents used to eat at every time they visited.  Her then boyfriend now husband likes the blueberry pancakes.

My then boyfriend now husband likes those same blueberry pancakes.  This time we have our children.  We'll try to get their picture in front of our meeting place, our university, which holds a dear spot in our hearts.

I'm convinced more than ever family is about the heart motive, the intention, not so much the presentation.  It's messy.  It's meant to be.  It's beautiful.  And it's mine.  Claiming it all and laughing as I go.  Passing on this legacy to the littles.  

Rise Above

My mom has lots of sayings.  These identifiably southern beauties are from her many years of living.  I used to make fun of them with my sister but friends now I just chalk them ALL up to her wisdom because she has lived her truth well.  I'm packing 35 years y'all.  I genuinely understand things more because these sayings are tied to life experiences.  (It is worth noting I think she's the origin of my love for linguistic jazz.  Playing with words.)

Here are some of my favorites, and I make no promises about future blogs with these because they all have a story and are just down right awesome.

"Birds of a feather flock together." (This was originally from my grandmother who used this often.  We pass these things down like that in this family.  Essentially watch who you hang out with.)

"Well, that's his little red wagon and he's going to have to pull it."  (Consequences, friends.  There are consequences from our actions.)

"I didn't know him from Adam." (That's a good Southern one right there.)

"Different strokes for different folks." (Also an amazing 90's TV show.) 

"Nothing ventured nothing gained."  (She uses this one the most I think.  She is always venturing and trying new things.  She's a doer and does until success is reached.  Thankful for this quality.)

"He/she is skating on thin ice."  (Cautionary phrase.  She's a teacher.)

"People are different."  (Perhaps the most intellectual one but so appropriate when extending grace with things we don't understand.)

"In a pickle."  (Shakespere original.  Very helpful.)

"Well garden seed!!"  (Jesus loving curse words right there.)

"Mercy!!" (Again more of the above.  Used often.)

"Every barn needs a little paint."  (My grandfather used this one often.  It's so true whether you agree or not.)

"Glory be!" 

"For Pete's sake." (When something surprises her this comes out.)

"Walking on eggshells."  (Being careful with certain people are around as to not offend.)

"Your halo is slipping."  (When I did something growing up she'd say this as cautionary humor.)

"She's shining her halo."  (More angel humor for the one who is feeling oh so good about herself.)

"Don't air your dirty laundry."  (It's totally useless to air it dirty, as are careless words and random acts of making a stink of yourself.  Grace. Transparent grace, yes.  Waving freak flag, no.)

"I always was glad you saved your uglies for home."  (Meaning, I'm really glad you didn't get into trouble in school and I could handle your bad behavior at home.)  

One of my favorites has been when she has said to me, "Carla, rise above. You are going to have to rise above."
I need to tell you that I don't often like the situations that I explain before she says those wise words.  In my history of being a daughter, they've usually come from situations of pain.  Heartbreak.  They mostly always involve interpersonal relationships.  Her next comment is usually, "I want to beat them up for you."  Mute point here. (Amen if you're a mama or in a position of caring for another's soul.)

One of our favorite beaches is an island developed by a wise businessman. He purchased the entire island and began to sell the plots of land, one by one. In 1954, Hurricane Hazel came through the island and completely covered it sound to sea. Of the few homes that were there back then, his was the only one remaining after the storm.  In fact, it still stands there today.

He built his house on a hill.

The rains came down and the floods came up and his house on the hill stood firm. (Hand motions optional to those who know that one.)

His house is perched above the flood waters, intentionally built for protection from the storms.

I'm reminded of a friend going through a difficult time right now. She is facing some intense pressure she has to pray her way through.

I'm thinking of her wise words.  The way she greets Jesus first every morning.  The way she uses Scripture to fight for her.  I see her rising above.  I see her being mocked and yes, I want to beat them all up, but instead I pray.  I connect with her and I hear her heart.

Her rising above isn't belittling those around her. It's praying for her enemies.

It isn't expressed with sarcasm, that nasty form of pride that puffs up and pushes away, it's words of love.  Prayers of grace.

Rising above she understands she is not in control or knows the distant future.  It's intimately knowing a very good and all powerful God who sees and hears and knows.  He has a plan and she knows it is intended for good.

It's not her fighting with gloves on.  It's her wise words to me, "I am standing still and He fights for me."

Life is messy, and, well, God isn't done with us.  God sometimes steers us away from one path and into another.  He all the time is teaching us.  

Rising above looks like wisdom. It's remembering who holds your head up above the flood waters so your crown does not fall.  Rising above attracts you to people who support you in your path.  Rising above isn't just survival mode, you are in a position to thrive.  Be productive.  Glorify our Maker.  Watch with anticipation where He leads next.  

Royalty friends.  In Christ wearing his seal you are royalty.  Royalty acts wisely.  Royalty looks to the throne for confidence.

Royalty always rises above.  The floods are coming and so are my prayers.

The Grey Shoes

It's Mother's Day ("Mudder's Day" if you ask my five year old) and I am sitting here alone.  The quiet time with God and writing helps me process and become better for the loud, usual times around here.  I believe my husband has taken my girls to get me something, and, well, that's all fine and good but I am just happy.  I'm content.  I'm thankful that I just feel fulfilled with these people God has given me.

Now I will tell you that a little nip and tuck would be nice, ok?  Well, except that when you start fixing one part the rest starts looking worse, or so I hear.  (Like the plastic version of "If you give a mouse a cookie"?)  I liked my idea of saving for a little lift for the girls until I had unexpected surgery and let me tell you general anesthesia is no joke.  So now I just embrace it all.

This same tummy I work hard to try and flatten?  It housed two precious babies for nine months.  Right under my heart.  The stretch marks on my sides I like to call "tiger tried to get me but I was too fast and got away.  Rawr!"  Mine on my lower belly?  That second little one was a long, long baby and she just kept dropping.  I call those "drop um like they're hot".  (Because battle scars are oh so hot, in case you didn't know.)

I have a bellybutton scar and five additional scars from the removal of my third precious baby who sadly didn't make it.  I don't blog about this often so bear with me.  I'm not sure how, but going shoe shopping with my mom the other day brought this all on.  And, well, God asked me to write about it so here we go.

If I am ever in need of anything for my wardrobe, my mom comes to the rescue.  Her store is Belks- Modern, Southern, Style.  We go and we shop and we browse and we meander.  She always knows what is fashionable both for all ages.  It's just her thing.  Sometimes she needs to pry me out of the house.  It's not that I don't like being "put together", as she says, it's just I'm not quite sure where my wants and needs intersect sometimes.  If my shoes fit, and they still feel good, I overlook their ratty appearance.

So when we went shopping the other day, and I found a pair of tan leather flats I loved, I just wasn't sure if I really needed them.  So my mom asked, "Carla, when was the last time you bought dress shoes?"  So I went through my dress shoe list.  There are the amazing black flats I had to get from Payless way back before kids.  I got those beauties in my husband's small little hometown.  (I had forgotten my bag at home and had no clothes or shoes and my Type A freaked out but I love those shoes.  He works all things for the good and He sure does in the form of women's shoes.  Someone is giving me an amen I can feel it.)  Then there were those great gold flats from Target that I got on clearance but really should have gotten a half size larger because they are beautiful but useless.  Just dang useless.  

Then she asked me about my shoes I was wearing.  I looked down at the grey shoes on my feet.  They suede ones with the rhinestones on the top.  Bedazzled like an 80's beast.  Then I said, "Oh mom.  I got these after my OB appointment.  Remember when you watched the girls?  I called you from the parking lot."  

These grey shoes reflect so much of me right now.  I have hung on to those shoes.  They are starting to get ratty, I've thought a couple of times perhaps I should donate or toss them.  But I have hung on.
Down the road from the doctor's office was a shoe store where I could decompress and I found the glitziest pair of grey suede shoes I could find.  Comfortable enough.  Grey.  With a glimmer of hope.  Just like I was feeling.

I went home and had no answers for my mom or husband.  The doctors are still surprised I made it through my particular miscarriage.  I am meant to walk this earth longer and thankful to God, is what I thought.  My shoes never made up for this loss but I sure did try.

So I wear these shoes.  Year after year.  Three and a half years have passed now.  They really are a great color.  Grey goes with pretty much everything (feel free to correct me) and well, the glitter.  There is hope in the glitter.

There is always hope in the glitter.  

I told someone the other day that becoming a mother isn't about the baby years.  It's about the growing years.  It's not about when they are four months, but 14 years and older that we hang on to.  It's seeing them grow in front of us into the person God intends for them to be.  It's about the grace God gives us just to be a part of it.    

It's also about growth for us mamas.  It's not about me as a mama to a little baby, it's about learning how my baby grows and helps me become a better parent and become the woman He intends for me to be.  It's about counseling those little lives and in turn having God do heart surgery on me.  Teaching me more of him.  Drawing me to himself even if my prayers are simply, "Lord, help me." It's bringing me to a state of humility that I don't have all the answers, but I am connected to the One who does.

So these shoes are getting donated.  My mom has politely asked me to do so.  She is right.  They are ratty.  They are well-worn, a little tear stained, and well, it's time.

This side of heaven I didn't get to meet that little one but the loss of his/her life has surely met my heart.  It has met me with so many lessons learned, with gratitude paving the way for my future.  I will surely thank that sweet one in heaven for my growth here on earth.

Even though the life has passed, the love lessons continue to rain from heaven.  

I thank God for how it has brought my husband and I closer.  I'm at a place of daily thankfulness for our two babies on earth.  The ones that are shopping for me something.  They will probably wrap it all pretty with a bow and proudly give it to me to open.  Tell me they chose it special.  That they love me and goodness knows they may never know how much I love them.  They just may never know.

They are my gift this Mother's day.  

God has turned my grey into gladness.  My mourning into thankfulness.  It may not seem like it at first, but with the hope eternal there is always some glimmer in the grey.  Sometimes it's hard to see, but it's there.  

Happy Mother's Day.

Feel the Crunch

Hmm.  So I just need to sit back and document today.  This mama has learned so much educating my children off the beaten path.  Learning that has not even included my children at times.  So when I found an outdoor center to take my children to, I jumped on it.  Mostly- well, we've been done with our curriculum and we just need to play.  We love the outside and these children need their minds filled with more things than mama can give.  (Still praying they remember the good and not the "mama hide your crazy":)  

So play we did.  We drove up to the day camp and although I could still hear the distant highway, I felt like we were definitely in a more peaceful place.  The man who greeted us wasn't wearing shoes and had a hole-filled shirt on.  He led my girls to field games.

I stayed back just to hang out because I figured these folks are really groovy and maybe I need to be here.  It was calling me.  They welcomed me with open arms and well, we just did it.  We did the thing.  Half-day camp.  Walked deep into the woods to logs circling a fire hearth.  Guitar played by a man covered in mud.  Man clad in plaid playing the tambourine.  We shared what we were thankful for.  We sat in our thinking spots, directed to use our senses to hear the sounds, feel the earth, touch the flora, smell the forest.  I did all that while I texted my husband.  I told him I would pay out of pocket for this experience on my own.

It's not every day that you see a grown woman welcome a bug to crawl in her hair.  And while my oldest was telling a leader that we had a ton of inchworms in our trees I was praying Lord, please don't tell her daddy went on a rampage and tried to kill them all with whatever poison solution he could find, spraying the air with machine gun precision. Please Lord.  I already don't fit in here, as she directed my daughter to place the inchworm outside of the circle to preserve its life.  I sat in my preppy workout clothes and pearl studded earrings.  Ann Taylor Loft sunglasses.  Fit bit attached religiously to my left arm with my nice shoes on with the inserts for my geriatric ankle.

I tried to fit in.  I mentioned to the lady leader about her bare feet, "You are into grounding, right?"  She said yes and sometimes tries to grocery shop barefoot.  You see, I've read about this stuff but I can't really tell you I've completely dived right on in.  (The research is there, I have yet to take a step.)

One of the mamas eating a Larabar letting her child lay on the ground, "I have a homemade recipe for those with my Vitamix."  She loves her Vitamix and travels with hers too.  She wants my recipe.  See, not so different.

So when my phone went off during circle time, I was embarrassed.  I mean, really, how disrespectful can I be?  It was like a church service, and you know the church people give some ugly looks for that kind of deed.  No dirty looks.

I was feeling ok, then my littlest says to the man in mud, "Ooh.  That guy is agusting." No one responded so she needed to say louder, "That man is a gusting!!"  And one more time as she sat on my lap.  "He is agusting!"  So I said, "It's for the bugs.  He needs it for the bugs." If anyone was offended, no one said a word.

So this is the thing.  I love crunchy.  I actually love all kinds of people and I'm really quite preppy as evidenced with today's happenings.  I have these daughters that mostly match.  They love their hair braided.  Nails painted.  Compared to these kids today, they're not crunchy.  I have a husband who really isn't crunchy and refuses my homemade deodorant (but willingly will let me make him some shave cream).  After battling parasites from international travel, I live a shoe-filled life.  Wash your hands after you dig in the dirt.  Watch out for the poison ivy and if you can't identify it, just stay away.

I want to demonstrate to my girls that they are unique.  Fearfully made with a purpose.  Those around them?  Regardless of how similar or different they are, there is a reason for their paths to cross.  To connect.  To live and love and yes, feel different.  Feel the rub with others and reach out in love.

What I learned today is that I am needing to give up more to God.  Maybe this jump isn't that clear to you reading.  But these events were evidence- the discoveries each child had, the leaders stopped to listen in amazement.  The children running through the woods playing a game, needing to dart from poison ivy?  Well, that was part of the fun.  Finding a snake and holding it.  Yes, holding it.  Singing a song in a circle in the forest, letting our thankfulness emit from our mouths, and going barefoot.  Going the heck barefoot and using duct tape for bandaids.  (I am not making this stuff up.)

Letting go a bit.  Stopping to listen.  Turning our phones off and just being.  This is not far from what God calls me to do.  Very different and yet so similar.

So I'll continue to place my girls in these situations where they need to find their bearings and feel different.  Learn from others.  Collect friends like bouquets and know you can never have too many flowers.  The different ones add delight to the bunch.  Letting down their social barriers and connecting.  And giving handmade deodorant to those in their paths who need it.

Gold Rush

My oldest recently had a really fun event she participated in and by default checked something off my "really cool" list.  She met an Olympic gold medalist and received kids triathlon instruction from her.  I am proud to say I kept my cool when I shook her hand and my daughter has a new hero.  I coveted her ripped body and then I went home to a bowl of Cheetos. (Hey, gotta start somewhere.)

I probably should add that we didn't just drop her off and run. Well, it was at our gym so we hung around, lifted, I did a Zumba class, etc. We also ran to the window every chance we could get to see her. I watched her ask for sunscreen because the sun was getting hot.  I watched her struggle with her bike, get help from her new hero, get a high five, smile, and carry on. I watched her do things I would have never in my wildest imagined God had planned for her, clad head to toe in pink, my little girl.

So she got home and I needed to know details. I wanted to hear about her experience. I wanted to know what she saw, how she felt, what she learned. I needed her words.

I saw a lot of her morning there. I was wondering about her experience with this new hero. Among these big kids with the fancy bikes and helmets that alone cost as much as our yearly beach trip.  Her bike had streamers and was most definitely not Olympic. It was heavier than the other kids.  It was awkward and it scraped her and she had to work harder. Did she notice? More importantly, did she care?

And I giggle at my questions.  I want in on her life. I tell God these girls are just about the best thing he could have ever given me and my sweet husband. I tell my husband that I will always be the mom at the window until the day I die. I will always wonder what's going on.  Can I help make it better or coach them to better pastures, and do I need to let go?  (Then I pray, Dear Lord, give me the wisdom to let go when I need to, but, thankfully my girls are quite clear themselves in this matter:)

God told me today that's how he feels. He wants my words. He wants me to tell him everything. He wants my heart, my life because he is the greener pasture.

He's not letting go either. People are his finest work. His best creation.
I am the apple of his eye. My loving my girls and hanging on their every word hearing their hearts is a very small, tiny image of a very big God with my whole every being taken care of.  My whole being is wrapped in his love and his grace and he is not letting go regardless of anything.  

Just this week I have had words of praise for him come from my lips.  I've giggled in his joy and I've tasted a salty tear or two and just told him all about it.  How I know he is sovereign and wonderful but, the pain.  Like my little girls heavy Target bike with the streamers and the scrapes around the ones that are more qualified with the bikes.  The nice bikes that make them something.  Things sometimes seem harder than they need to be, Lord.  

When my dear one struggled on that field, doing these bike drills Olympians perform to win, and couldn't keep up, our hero came alongside her.  She helped guide her.  She high-fived her and set her up for success.  Taking one step at a time following her words.  Keep steady.  Lean when you need to but don't go off course.  Stay steady. 

She autographed a book for my baby girl.  "Keep smiling all the way to your dreams."  She wrote that because my girl smiled all day, in the good and the struggles, she said.  I know my girl and believe it was because this special hero knew how to encourage.  How to walk alongside and help.  Give high fives.  Challenged her to get better and train her body to perform.  

Do I feel wanted.  Desired.  Needed.  Loved?  Very much so.  By a God that always sees, wants to hear, and never stops loving and guiding me to greener pastures.  To himself.  

Oh My Word So Many Eggs

So I woke up groggy this morning as my sweet husband gave me something to help my allergies. I seriously would open my eyes and then they closed again. Halving the pill. I will halve the pill tonight. I told him there are better ways to shut me up.  Like just fill my mouth with chocolate cake.  It's his professional duty to keep my body drugged like a well run machine.  Grace.  I'll give him grace just this once since he's so cute.

So I stumbled out and the girls were already ready, eagerly watching out the window.

So things happen so quickly when you have kids. I had forgotten we had egged our neighbors last night.  (yes, already forgotten)

You see yesterday after church we took our annual trip to the dollar store and Food Lion, bought 9 dozen eggs, filled them and hid them in the 9 houses with kids on our street. What resulted was a very early huge egg hunt.  (And I pause here to say that the implant people who moved to "cool" Durham should know downtown isn't the "real" Durham.  You need to visit other parts of Durham to see real Durham.  Like the Food Lion where I saw two men singing gospel, three people drunk, and several ladies in high heels coming in for things for their big Sunday lunch.  Durham hasn't always been whatever you want to call downtown and exists outside of the fancy places, just FYI.  Carrying on...)

Because my kids are young and they really only need to remember princess names and what I forget in my day to day business, clearly they had remembered where they hidden each single solitary egg.  (I should pause here and say please put a "surprise egg hunt for an entire street of children" on your bucket list.  Oh my word the fun!)

I must say they did a good job! The house with the middle schooler was the most impressive. My five year old had taken an orange egg and hid it in an orange tulip.

My little one waited by that window watching, smiling, wondering. Would they find that orange egg?

I feel bad. Those kids must have been out there for at least 30 minutes. In their jammies looking for that 12th egg. My girl stayed by that window giving me the play by play while I ingested my coffee (I needed a direct IV line this morning), leaving my third child named Latte close by my side.

The sheer delight when they found the egg! She was pleased. I hope they feel the lesson we wanted to teach. It really is better to give than receive.  It's a hard one to teach, an easy one to learn.  I suppose we try to set them up in positions to give.  Submit to one another.  Honor one another above yourselves.  I prayed this Easter, Lord, please teach me to teach them how to give.

So another egg hunt happened tonight for my girls.  (Number 5 but who's counting at this point…) This one was an underwater egg hunt.  We knew there would be prizes.  We knew the little one would get eggs on the ramp in the shallow end. We knew the big one would blaze past kiddos and load 'er up.  Yeah, I did my coaching.

"Sweetie, your grocery store bag is useless until you need it at the end.  Honey, to get the most eggs, baby, just stuff them in your suit."

"Really mom?"  says my daughter incredulously.

"Yes baby.  Just go down to the bottom of the pool like you love to do and start a stuffing.  Women do it all the time.  Just stuff stuff stuff.  Ok?"

The prize?  It was one of those HUGE plastic wrapped gift baskets.  She had her eye on them from the beginning.  She had a plan and she knew she was a strong swimmer.  The competition was stiff.  Those kids didn't mess around.  But in the end up came my big girl, suit full of eggs.  She glanced shyly over my direction and started putting them in the bag.  Happy to have had a good plan, but curious why her mama is so freakin crazy sometimes.  (I'm sorry- let's just use the word creative.)

So she knew she had a lot of eggs.  But she glanced over at a sweet girl who had no eggs. She tried her best and was upset.  So my girl quickly gave her a portion of her eggs.

The winners were announced.  My girl would have won.  If she had looked away instead of in the eyes of that sad, sweet girl.  If she just didn't care.  If she was just seeking out for herself.

She looked at me confused and said, "Mom, I would have won."  The other mom ran after me and made sure she told me, "Are you her mother?  She gave her eggs to my daughter who had none.  You should be so proud of her.  She gave up winning."

I told my confused baby, "You could have won.  Sure.  You could have looked over her.  Blazed your way to the winners table to get that prize.  That would have made you look successful.  Sure.  You'd have a prize. But this is the thing.  You are successful when you listen to your heart, that gentle voice that is loving.  Kind.  Looks after those around you.  Honors others.  You were successful today.  You didn't get that prize.  But you learned a more important lesson firsthand- the pain of sacrifice and the joy of giving.  You did it sweet girl.  Just remember with God winning doesn't look like the world's view of winning.  You are winning with each act of obedience.  Each step towards love."

So it is at Easter, on Good Friday, demonstrated in a children's egg hunt, shown to the world in a small act of kindness but true sacrifice to a seven year old.  Success looks like winning, but true success looks like dying.  Hung on a cross for the sins of the world.  A God that lovingly watches over us.  Is with us.  Speaks to us.  Gave us his Spirit to know him more.  Gave us Words to direct, guide, and direct line of communication to through Jesus.

He is the Treasure that I seek.  

Five Easter egg hunts and yet one egg is still lost in our front yard with chocolate candy in it.  If it's found come winter when we are putting out the Christmas lights, I will remember sacrifice and the anticipation of blessing.
Hope deferred and love sent.
The pain of sacrifice and delight of things found.  

When Fearless Doesn't Look Like What You Think

Today I ventured to the homeschool store.  It's always a treat to be in curriculum heaven and just get things done.  This day I took my children.  (I somehow ended up with 10 assorted fruit erasers and forgot the thing I traveled to get which fits perfectly into where I am right now so moving right along...)  

In between my "don't run in the store!" and "go to the toy room," catching myself from transforming my voice over to "run, she looks like she's gonna blow!" I overheard a fairly pregnant woman (how pregnant- fairly) talking.  She was considering pulling her child out of school and wasn't sure how she got to the store, or to this point, but there she was. She looked a little bit lost. 

Now, being that I am Carla, and I usually wear my heart and words on my sleeve, I just felt so much.  I felt so very much and remember freshly what she feels like.  So, clearly, I needed to join because my feeling was gushing outside of my body.  (Now, I need to say something to the introvert readers.  I will never understand you.  I may love you and squeeze you so hard you cry, but I will never understand you.  I don't understand your ability to hold your tongue.  I don't understand why you don't like attention- especially when attention is called-for, and I don't understand your lack of showing emotion.  I will continue to love and squeeze the ones who remain by my side and put up with me, but I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND YOU.  I will continue to make you open up though because the world needs to hear you.  At this point say a little prayer for my dear husband who gets to live with me.  Ok then, carrying on...)

Her sweet second grade son was being bullied.  He was making himself throw up to keep from going to school.  (If adults did to other adults what other kids were doing to him?  Yeah, that's called assault and, well, you get arrested.  The school did "the best they could" or so they said...)  So I didn't say this to her, but I saw it in her eyes.  I have felt that uncertainty.  I have felt that nudge to break from the norm despite being glued to generations of "the way it is done".  My situation was different, but I remember reaching that decision.  (She didn't even own a denim jumper either.  I checked…)

For whatever reason, we end up in this place of breaking.  Most of it is breaking on the inside, but it hurts nonetheless.  

I looked at her blank in the eyes and told her she was his one and only mother.  She can change her mind about his education method.  (Read, she can change her mind.)  She was not going to ruin him or desocialize him or break him.  She can change her mind back the next year.  But maybe he needed some coaching?  Some tools? A new surrounding? Maybe she needed to claim her status as Mama Hen and do the the thinkable to most- withdraw her child.  I didn't lead her either way, she needed empowering.  I just said,

"You can be fearless."

I saw her taste my words. I saw her lean in and her eyes got teary and she was feeling them. She was getting a taste of freedom. Freedom from her heart breaking daily for her son.  Freedom from what the grandparents had to say or the lady in line at the grocery store asking, "Why aren't your children in school?" or the person down the street checking off to make sure you have your curriculum covered (Music?  Check- as if you needed their approval.) Or the person that says "Wow, I mean your kids are really well-adjusted to be home schooled."  (It doesn't matter if they haven't said it yet, they will.  It happens to most of us.)  She knew no one would agree (and she didn't even make her own laundry soap...)

If you are doing the right thing, you will feel resistance.    

If you are in these difficult situations, breaking from the norm, with naysayers surrounding your court, it looks daunting.  It seems overwhelming.  You feel the burden of the way things should be.  You know the task at hand is an important one.

You also know you need to go forward. You sense the break, the fire starting to blaze a new trail with a new frame of mind with a new Center. You can sense the freedom on the other side. You know it is possible.

As it is with Jesus.  The more I let go, seek Him, and know His Person, I feel the fear leaving and the peace freedom taking over.  

Most people's day to day doesn't reflect their fearlessness.  Your fearless might be silent.  It might be loud and obvious.  The hurtful cracks in your heart always let the light shine in and lead to a place of joy.  

Fearless is not a destination, but a reframing of the mind.  God's work.  Kingdom work.  A constant state of prayer before God.  

Lord, make me fearless.  

Namaste, Jesus

I conquered a fear recently that is blog-worthy.  I completed my first yoga class without doing any of three things I felt sure I would do:  

1.  Pinch someones bottom.  Wildly inappropriate, I know.  (It's just this thing.  There is a bottom straight in the air, asking to be pinched.  Go ahead and judge.  But don't bend over around me.)  

2.  Tickle a foot in my vicinity. (In a yoga class, especially a crowded one, feet just go this way and that.  Tempting me to do very childish things.  Sorry.  I'm just an honest person.)

3.  Pass gas.  

The girls were equally excited for me so we got mommy some sushi.  (My thyroid condition makes me crave seaweed.  Maybe I really am a mermaid?  This would delight my girls for sure.)

I love my gym I have been going to.  Surrounded my older people.  Retired and grouchy, some of them.  Retired and patient, sweet smiling, warm-loving, some of them.  Me aspiring to be like them, all of them.  Their mobility.  Their stamina.  Their moving through.  

I confessed my fears publicly to the ones warming up before the yoga class yesterday.  They were kind enough to tell me I had placed my mat front and center, not back and center, like I had hoped.  For this they are part of my heart.  (I do not wish to be the instructor of a class I fear I will expel gas in.)  They told me that I was welcomed, not to worry, and they would guide me along even if the unthinkable happened.  

So look around I did.  All the moves.  All the poses.  All the strengthening and the holding and the legs shaking.  It wasn't easy.  

Namaste, Jesus.  I'm here.  I'm quiet before You.  Speak into my life.  

I had several prayers and talkings to during that 45 minute class, moves I couldn't master, words not spoken but prayed.  Lord my legs are criss cross, my hands are open.  I'm listening.    

Lord, make me broken.  Make me feel like I am not complete, not all-together, not perfect.  Make me delight in my insecurities and my inabilities and boast in Your saving grace in my life. In loving my neighbors help me realize my neighbors are those around me, broken and with needs, too.  

Lord, make me empty.  Allow me to empty myself before you.  Each breath I release may Your Spirit fill me up.  Where do I need to be emptied of myself?  Do Your kingdom work in me.  

Lord, make me lonely.  Create in me this puzzle piece that only You can fill.  You are my treasure and my delight and as I sit and pose in this class may I always keep You front and center.   May I know when I am not seeking You because it hurts.  Draw me into You.  

Lord, make my paths well-worn to You.  Make me grow through the years seeking You.  Aged in years like the precious souls around me, following You, walking with you, going deep with You in my old years.  May I be able to say when my time comes to see you face to face, "I have fought the good fight."

Lord, make me be in this moment.  The air goes in like Your rushing Spirit.  Running in and through me, all around me, in my family.  Make this moment be full of You, enjoying You, low before You.  

Breathing.  Being.  Living.  Enjoying.  Most importantly, loving alongside my Precious Maker of all good things.  

Namaste, Jesus.  

In Remembrance

I need to take a moment and reflect on a precious life, a reader of this blog, who is now with Jesus- my sister-in-law's mother. She was a regular reader and once told me she wished I would include pictures of my girls, of which I still have yet to do. If I do in the future, I will nod to this wonderful lady who not only encouraged me but encouraged the masses.

I first met her when my sister-in-law, her daughter, and I were planning our weddings. Her attention to detail was impressive, and she wanted the day to just be perfect. (I need to add that her husband had the same heart, but of course, let the two of them decide on the sparkles, crystals, and details.) She knew how to have a good time and enjoy those around her. I think I laughed the entire wedding reception because people like her have really great friends.

I watched her relationships grow through the years. She became a grandma, perhaps her favorite role yet. She named all of her grandson's toys by name. A particular giraffe squeaky was not "giraffe". She decided one day he looked like a Frenchman, so his name followed suit. That sweet two-year old boy called it by name and she would just throw her head back and laugh.

She got on the floor and played with both boys, who definitely had her heart. They kept those boys and loved those boys and lived for those sweet grandsons. She was the most loving grandmother one could find. As it should be.

She was a vibrant lady, with an infectious laugh, and a wonderful smile. An encourager. Full of energy and light. Everything she did she attacked with exuberance. Wherever it was, she carried an enormous amount of energy. She was small in stature and larger than life. An energizer bunny. She was beautiful and stylish and graceful. She amazed me with her stilettos at the baptisms and her dangle earrings around her grandsons. Fearless, graceful style.

Her smile filled up her face. Her laughter filled up a room. People in her presence couldn't help but be happy. We celebrate her life. We celebrate that she has met our Maker face-to-face. She is in a beautiful place that fits her well- positive, glorifying, uplifting, ever-shining, happiness.

Don't Be Unreasonable

My oldest will begin Latin next year as a part of her curriculum. Why Latin? Mother tongue, baby. From it languages are easily explained. I remember loving studying the history of the Spanish language in college thinking man oh man I wish I could have learned this sooner! It is beautiful to me how one Latin word was altered to the various languages like a family tree. Omissions, additions. In Italy one time I ordered pizza and secured a hotel room speaking Spanish. We struggled a bit but the order was correct and we got the room we wanted:) The hotel manager and I hugged. We did it! Cousins. Language cousins.

So when God takes me deeper with Him with studying language in Scripture, pair that with speaking to my heart, with some practical guidance, now we are getting somewhere! He knows I eat it up.

I'll be honest with you. Ok, lean in. Sometimes I wonder why we're teaching our girls to turn the other cheek, forgive, love anyway, sacrifice. Listen here, the world they face is daunting, rough, unforgiving. Now individuals, sure, there are kind people. But in general, Are we raising doormats?  Should we teach them it's all about them.  Elbow your way to the top? Put yourself first.  Don't look back.  Step on someone if you have to.  It's life.  "It is what it is."  (That phrase is waaaay overused.)

So we know we're not. Honestly. We're raising them as Jesus asks us to. How do I know? He talks to us and tells us and sometimes (prayerfully I hope more than I think) we're smart enough to listen and when we fall He gently corrects us. Imperfectly beautiful conversation. Lord-guide-us-and-make-us-willing-to-listen conversation.

There is this Greek word "dorean" That I cant get out my head. It literally means "freely, as a free gift". It also means "without reason". It is used a few times in Scripture (Matthew 10:8- sacrifice "freely you have received, freely give") and (John 15:25- Jesus said, "they hated me without reason") combining those two meanings, references, we have through Jesus received "unreasonable grace". Grace upon grace. Unmerited favor. Gods Riches At Christ's Expense.

What I've learned from this is give sacrificially. Teach love. Unreasonable grace. To the best of my ability. Lord help me please.  

One more instruction though that Jesus gave his disciples was Matthew 10:16- "I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be shrewd as snakes and innocent as doves." Greek word shrewd= prudent, simple, practically wise. Innocent= without any mixture of deceit, without any defiling material.

The way to recognize the counterfeit truth is to know the Real truth. To recognize what is not right because you know the Maker so well. "Your Word is Truth" is a verse we all know in our house.

So I suppose you could say we're teaching the girls to be unreasonable. Praying they know Jesus so well that they recognize when less appealing things come their way. When deceit is at their front door. When Wisdom wins and leads them to the right path. Gently calling them to Himself.  Loving them in spite of their sin.  Making the plans for them good.  Well.  Unreasonable.

This could look like several things. Having girls I feel vulnerable.  I don't see that as a weakness though. Their tender hearts will change the world, so I pray dear Lord. May I teach them to be grounded. May I remain grounded, in your Truth. Conversing with Truth. Open to Truth. Loved unreasonably by Truth. Turning this unreasonable grace outward. Where it belongs so that others may feel Him, experience Him, know Him, too.  Jesus wasn't a doormat, but poured out His life because connected to God, and there we find are no limits.