Four years into homeschooling and we are still on a rollercoaster. Up and Down. Around we go.
Each week is a series of highs and lows. I can't do this. I can do this. I love this. I _ _ _ _ (insert a four letter word that starts with "H" and rhymes with late that we try not to use.) I tempt myself with thoughts of a brick and mortor school. I daydream of waving good-bye to the bright yellow bus and actually having TIME. Then I realize that homeschooling GIVES me time to do what matters most to me. Sure, some days I feel like I have been dragged through the day, while others, I have the proverbial "bull by the horns". Busy. Bored. Well, no not bored. Never ever bored. Dirty. Clean. Organized to dis-organized in minutes flat. A cycle of opposites that is never mundane.
Rollercoasters are thrilling, stomach tingling, and exhilerating. Just ponder the names of the top roller coasters -- The Beast, The Intimidator, Goliath, The Terror, and Desparado. Have you ever heard of a coaster with a name like, Peace, Lazy River, or Princess? No! The big name promotes a bit of fear in and of itself. I'm thinking of a name change for our school -- Adrenaline Academy. It fits. Like a real coaster, sometimes I just want off the ride! They are scary and dark especially when I can't see what's around the corner. Other times I am left feeling a little sick to my stomach and I just want to park myself at the nearest bench. The adrenaline rush is over.
Homeschooling brings about those same emotions. The thrill of teaching Middleson to read. Watching Oldest soar right past me in technology is amazing. Babyboy's desire to mimic his big brothers tickles my tummy. And, all this togetherness brings about an unexplainable joy. But, what about tomorrow? Am I doing enough? Have I covered all the bases? Am I forgetting something? Weariness sets in like a fog despite my efforts in being prepped and ready to go. I want to "retire" and put my kids on the nearest bus.
All in all, (for us) homeschooling is a gift. It's hard work. Anything with worth takes work. I think of training for a long running race. Sometimes the run is effortless and enjoyable. Sometimes I drag my legs around forcing them to take another step. But, when I cross the finish line it is ALL VICTORY and NO REGRET for the hours of training, the pain, or the early mornings. Homeschooling is more thrill than shrill. More ups than downs. Worth the price of admission. Ready to roll....let's go for another ride.
Mommyontheboysturf with her three sons
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Treasure Hunt
"Mommy, where is my puppy with the pajamas on?" Babyboy pleaded. For clarification's sake, it is a stuffed bear with a real-baby-boy sleeper on.
Instantly, my mind mentally rewinded the day trying fo find the last glimpse of Babyboy's favorite stuffed animal. Bike ride. Outside. Nap. Late lunch. Post office. Library. Bank. Kroger. Thrift store. SCREEEEEEECH!
Our first "pop" was into the thrift store to find some gently used books. Since we were "popping" in, I decided NOT to take the stroller and nodded in agreement to taking puppy in. That was my first mistake. You can't look through used books at a thrift store quickly. There is no rhyme or reason to the way books are shelved. You don't take a stuffed animal into a thrift store because like finds like. Babyboy's puppy suddenly multiplied to stuffed ducks, bears, and frogs. All I could see was a deep scour in the shower upon arriving home. Oldest and Middleson also did their fair share of sliding around the cement floor while I found some wonderful books on my treasure hunt. We found a 1969 copyright of "Around the World in Eighty Days". Cha Ching!
After seeing the time, we popped out of the thrift store as quickly as we popped in. I can vividly see NOW that puppy did not exit with us. At the time I was more concerned about keeping my three boys alive and into the van safely while carrying an armload of books, my keys, my wallet, my phone, and my sunglasses. Note to self: Take the stroller anyway even when you don't need it for a child. It acts as purse with wheels.
Then a myriad of errands took us all over our little town and back home for a very late lunch. Naptime. Bike ride. Dinner. Bedtime. Puppy is missing. Emergency.
I 9-1-1 the thrift store. "We were in the store this morning and we left my son's very special stuffed puppy. Well actually it is a bear that we call a dog, wearing a sleeper." I rambled giving way tooo many details. "What is a sleeper?" Miss Clerk asked. She clearly never had a baby that came with a registry checklist that says you need 8-10 sleepers. "It is like a full body suit with arms and legs and snaps." I described. "Let me check." After what seemed like a long time, she gave me the terrible news. "I'm sorry, I can't find anything like that."
Babyboy sobbed. It was sorrowful. "Puppy is my best friend. I know. I have an idea. Maybe next time we go back he will be there for me." Dagger in the heart. There would be no more puppy to go with us everywhere.
Supermom to the rescue. Already pajama-ed and ready for bed (yes at 8:30 pm), I threw on my clothes and left the house on a mission. Daddy and I even prayed before I left that we would find this prized possession.
I entered the store like it was the emergency room, desperate for help, and racing with the clock. The store closed in minutes. I was ready to pull bear/puppy from the arms of anyone who dared try to buy him. With the meanest face I could muster I searched every nook and cranny. I still saw the evidence of our visit earlier that day. Our stack of rejected books still lay neatly. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE BEAR???
Next I headed to the stuffed animal bin, clawing my way through every stuffed thing I told my kids NOT to touch. Suddenly. My heartrate increased. My breathing quickened. Those black eyes and the cute little nose. Surely there isn't another one with a red bow. That's right. THIS was the bear that Daddy sent to me back in the days when he was trying to get my attention. This wasn't just any bear. I FOUND HIM! With a whoop of victory, I headed to the infant clothes to solve the rest of the mystery.
Like Inspector Gadget I reasoned that a store clerk found the animal shortly after we left. Obviously they thought a child found a sleeper from the rack and cutely attired the bear while mommy or daddy was shopping. WRONGO. That isn't the way it happened. Hmmm....the stuffed animals do not have a pricetag, but the clothing DOES have tags. I bet the sleeper got sent to the backroom to get tagged. I pleaded with Miss Clerk to go to the back and look for a sleeper.
"What is a sleeper?" she asked for the second time. I described it in full detail ADDING that it was very sentimental because Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy ALL came home from the hospital in that article of clothing otherwise known as a sleeper.
12 verylongminutes later she emerged with THE sleeper!! Whooo Hoooo.
I left the store singing praises and speeding just a touch. For someone who is a full abider of the speed limit, this shows my exuberance and excitement in getting home. I pressed the pedal to the metal and went 37 in a 35mph.
A grand reunion was celebrated upon returning home! Today puppy/bear and his sleeper are laundered and heavily doted on by all! Babyboy's prayers were answered.
Oh the love of a parent for their child.
Oh the love of God for me. He'd do anything for me. He did everything for me.
He pursues me when I don't know I am lost. He puts me back together and He cleans me. He reunites me to Himself. He celebrates who and whose I am.
The Greatest Treasure Hunt I know.
Instantly, my mind mentally rewinded the day trying fo find the last glimpse of Babyboy's favorite stuffed animal. Bike ride. Outside. Nap. Late lunch. Post office. Library. Bank. Kroger. Thrift store. SCREEEEEEECH!
Our first "pop" was into the thrift store to find some gently used books. Since we were "popping" in, I decided NOT to take the stroller and nodded in agreement to taking puppy in. That was my first mistake. You can't look through used books at a thrift store quickly. There is no rhyme or reason to the way books are shelved. You don't take a stuffed animal into a thrift store because like finds like. Babyboy's puppy suddenly multiplied to stuffed ducks, bears, and frogs. All I could see was a deep scour in the shower upon arriving home. Oldest and Middleson also did their fair share of sliding around the cement floor while I found some wonderful books on my treasure hunt. We found a 1969 copyright of "Around the World in Eighty Days". Cha Ching!
After seeing the time, we popped out of the thrift store as quickly as we popped in. I can vividly see NOW that puppy did not exit with us. At the time I was more concerned about keeping my three boys alive and into the van safely while carrying an armload of books, my keys, my wallet, my phone, and my sunglasses. Note to self: Take the stroller anyway even when you don't need it for a child. It acts as purse with wheels.
Then a myriad of errands took us all over our little town and back home for a very late lunch. Naptime. Bike ride. Dinner. Bedtime. Puppy is missing. Emergency.
I 9-1-1 the thrift store. "We were in the store this morning and we left my son's very special stuffed puppy. Well actually it is a bear that we call a dog, wearing a sleeper." I rambled giving way tooo many details. "What is a sleeper?" Miss Clerk asked. She clearly never had a baby that came with a registry checklist that says you need 8-10 sleepers. "It is like a full body suit with arms and legs and snaps." I described. "Let me check." After what seemed like a long time, she gave me the terrible news. "I'm sorry, I can't find anything like that."
Babyboy sobbed. It was sorrowful. "Puppy is my best friend. I know. I have an idea. Maybe next time we go back he will be there for me." Dagger in the heart. There would be no more puppy to go with us everywhere.
Supermom to the rescue. Already pajama-ed and ready for bed (yes at 8:30 pm), I threw on my clothes and left the house on a mission. Daddy and I even prayed before I left that we would find this prized possession.
I entered the store like it was the emergency room, desperate for help, and racing with the clock. The store closed in minutes. I was ready to pull bear/puppy from the arms of anyone who dared try to buy him. With the meanest face I could muster I searched every nook and cranny. I still saw the evidence of our visit earlier that day. Our stack of rejected books still lay neatly. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE BEAR???
Next I headed to the stuffed animal bin, clawing my way through every stuffed thing I told my kids NOT to touch. Suddenly. My heartrate increased. My breathing quickened. Those black eyes and the cute little nose. Surely there isn't another one with a red bow. That's right. THIS was the bear that Daddy sent to me back in the days when he was trying to get my attention. This wasn't just any bear. I FOUND HIM! With a whoop of victory, I headed to the infant clothes to solve the rest of the mystery.
Like Inspector Gadget I reasoned that a store clerk found the animal shortly after we left. Obviously they thought a child found a sleeper from the rack and cutely attired the bear while mommy or daddy was shopping. WRONGO. That isn't the way it happened. Hmmm....the stuffed animals do not have a pricetag, but the clothing DOES have tags. I bet the sleeper got sent to the backroom to get tagged. I pleaded with Miss Clerk to go to the back and look for a sleeper.
"What is a sleeper?" she asked for the second time. I described it in full detail ADDING that it was very sentimental because Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy ALL came home from the hospital in that article of clothing otherwise known as a sleeper.
12 verylongminutes later she emerged with THE sleeper!! Whooo Hoooo.
I left the store singing praises and speeding just a touch. For someone who is a full abider of the speed limit, this shows my exuberance and excitement in getting home. I pressed the pedal to the metal and went 37 in a 35mph.
A grand reunion was celebrated upon returning home! Today puppy/bear and his sleeper are laundered and heavily doted on by all! Babyboy's prayers were answered.
Oh the love of a parent for their child.
Oh the love of God for me. He'd do anything for me. He did everything for me.
He pursues me when I don't know I am lost. He puts me back together and He cleans me. He reunites me to Himself. He celebrates who and whose I am.
The Greatest Treasure Hunt I know.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Multi-tasking vs. Single-tasking
Every mom learns the language of multi-tasking the second her precious child is born. All of the sudden, this 8 pounder needs to be changed, fed, burped,and rocked. As subsequent children are born, her multi-tasking vocabulary expands even more as she attempts to meet the needs of more children. It's a requirement at times, but not always.
Unfortunately and fortunately, multi-tasking is my first language. My native tongue. Of course, multi-tasking has its benefits, but it also has its pitfalls. I love to accomplish. The more I multi-task, the more I achieve. I recall coming home from the grocery store when Oldest was an infant -- holding him with one arm, propping a bottle in his mouth with my chin, and emptying grocery bags away with my "free" hand. Accomplish much? Yes, I guess so. But, I missed watching him swallow as he guzzled his milk. I missed the way he gazed at me when I looked at him.
Slowly, but surely, I am learning the language of single-tasking. Focusing on the moment, that thing right in front of me. Whether it is a task or a child or a conversation. There is something to be said for focus and living in the moment. I think multi-tasking makes me believe if I hurry through these moments, there will be more time for focusing at the end. That's the lie of multi-tasking since there is always more to do.
When I drive my car without the distraction of a cell-phone conversation, I am enriched by conversation with my own children. Often we use that time to pray together or just to talk. Really talk. I don't want to miss out on that.
When we go on a bike-ride or walk, it is tempting to "plug in" to my I-pod and engage in a podcast or song. I can do that when I am alone. I miss questions like, "Why are the leaves on the tree brown instead of green?" I miss the hoops and hollars of two brothers racing down the street on bikes.
On the homefront, multi-tasking tends to make mistakes. Recipes gone bad due to a missing ingredient. Boiled-over jam. A hose left on. A boy in the shower way too long.
I am paraphrasing from the book, "A Thousands Gifts". What often comes to mind is a paragraph Ann Voskamp had on hurrying. She said that being in a hurry empties the soul. Nothing good ever came from being in a hurry. When I am in a hurry, my kids are in a hurry. Hurry causes stress.
For me, a by-product of multi-tasking is being in a hurry to do one more quick thing. I'm learning the value of sitting and making no plans. The blank "to do" list is a beautiful thing, like a clean slate or a freshly-washed load of laundry. It is an invitation to live un-hurried and just enjoy this moment! Living life fully-engaged and realizing there is time to do everything God has on my plate for today. Jesus was never in a hurry, right? He constantly did the next right "thing", not the next right "things".
I'll continue practicing this new, foreign-language. It won't be perfect or without the need for interpretation. My vocabulary will continue to expand as I explore this thing called single-tasking. Perhaps I will accomplish more by doing less.....or accomplish more of what is truly important anyway.
Time for breakfast with Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy. I'll notice the "everything" on my bagel --- poppyseeds, onion flakes, sesame seeds, and fluffy cream cheese. I'll note the spikey- hair on three bed-headed boys. We'll take our time and talk about what we want to do today. We might share a joke or two. I'm going to laugh at the answer because its funny and I really heard the answer. I was listening. Yes, I like this single-tasking stuff.
Themulti-single-tasker of them all --
Mommyontheboysturf
Unfortunately and fortunately, multi-tasking is my first language. My native tongue. Of course, multi-tasking has its benefits, but it also has its pitfalls. I love to accomplish. The more I multi-task, the more I achieve. I recall coming home from the grocery store when Oldest was an infant -- holding him with one arm, propping a bottle in his mouth with my chin, and emptying grocery bags away with my "free" hand. Accomplish much? Yes, I guess so. But, I missed watching him swallow as he guzzled his milk. I missed the way he gazed at me when I looked at him.
Slowly, but surely, I am learning the language of single-tasking. Focusing on the moment, that thing right in front of me. Whether it is a task or a child or a conversation. There is something to be said for focus and living in the moment. I think multi-tasking makes me believe if I hurry through these moments, there will be more time for focusing at the end. That's the lie of multi-tasking since there is always more to do.
When I drive my car without the distraction of a cell-phone conversation, I am enriched by conversation with my own children. Often we use that time to pray together or just to talk. Really talk. I don't want to miss out on that.
When we go on a bike-ride or walk, it is tempting to "plug in" to my I-pod and engage in a podcast or song. I can do that when I am alone. I miss questions like, "Why are the leaves on the tree brown instead of green?" I miss the hoops and hollars of two brothers racing down the street on bikes.
On the homefront, multi-tasking tends to make mistakes. Recipes gone bad due to a missing ingredient. Boiled-over jam. A hose left on. A boy in the shower way too long.
I am paraphrasing from the book, "A Thousands Gifts". What often comes to mind is a paragraph Ann Voskamp had on hurrying. She said that being in a hurry empties the soul. Nothing good ever came from being in a hurry. When I am in a hurry, my kids are in a hurry. Hurry causes stress.
For me, a by-product of multi-tasking is being in a hurry to do one more quick thing. I'm learning the value of sitting and making no plans. The blank "to do" list is a beautiful thing, like a clean slate or a freshly-washed load of laundry. It is an invitation to live un-hurried and just enjoy this moment! Living life fully-engaged and realizing there is time to do everything God has on my plate for today. Jesus was never in a hurry, right? He constantly did the next right "thing", not the next right "things".
I'll continue practicing this new, foreign-language. It won't be perfect or without the need for interpretation. My vocabulary will continue to expand as I explore this thing called single-tasking. Perhaps I will accomplish more by doing less.....or accomplish more of what is truly important anyway.
Time for breakfast with Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy. I'll notice the "everything" on my bagel --- poppyseeds, onion flakes, sesame seeds, and fluffy cream cheese. I'll note the spikey- hair on three bed-headed boys. We'll take our time and talk about what we want to do today. We might share a joke or two. I'm going to laugh at the answer because its funny and I really heard the answer. I was listening. Yes, I like this single-tasking stuff.
The
Mommyontheboysturf
Thursday, May 24, 2012
True Greatness
Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy said good-bye to their Papa last week. My Dad-in-law "graduated" to Heaven. In his last days, this military veteran often spoke of "going on leave" soon. Yes, he did indeed leave this world, an extended leave in Heaven for eternity.
As I reflect over the last week and all the events that occurred, I am utterly amazed at God's faithfulness even to the end, down to every detail. His timing so perfect even in death. Rising higher than the feelings of sadness and mourning, are a great sense of pride and honor to have known my husband's father for 14 years.
He was a man of greatness. I learned this weekend while reading documents that he was 5 feet, 8.5 inches. I saw him much taller than that. Perhaps it was his character that was larger than life. Small in stature maybe, but great in heart and humility. Noble.
Some characteristics I admired about my father-in-law --- some I experienced first-hand and others I just learned in speaking to family recently.
1. He was a many of integrity. He was the type of man that would find a pen behind his ear on his drive home from work and turn around to return it.
2. He took care of my mother-in-law who suffered with cancer for 21 years WITHOUT a word of complaint. Not a mutter. This is amazing to me!
3. He had my husband, his 4th child, at the age of 51. Can you imagine? And, he raised him well.
4. He worked hard and persevered to care for his family in every way.
5. He had a delivery truck and among delivering "goods", he also used it to transport teenagers to church services and conventions.
6. He shared Christ with many people throughout his life.
7. He had an uncanny ability to answer a question with a question. This is clearly hereditary. Have you ever heard my husband do this? Hmmm.....
8. He served in World War II.
9. He loved ice cream. It is said that you aren't in the family unless you love ice cream. I fit in the family quite well and my boys are clearly their papas grandsons.
10. He was generous.
11. He often spoke of his "good life". His attitude determined his altitude. He did suffer hardship most certainly, yet his attitude said otherwise.
12. He was ready to meet Jesus. He had accepted Christ as his personal Saviour. He lived his life to attain eternity with Jesus.
13. He raised four wonderful children. My brothers-in-law and sister-in-law exemplify many of the traits above. My husband is a gift to me in more ways than I can count.
14. He was truly a man of greatness, leaving a lasting legacy.
Thank you, Papa, for living your life the way you did -- with uprightness, self control, and dignity. Thank you for leaving a legacy that we are proud to pass on to Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy. We too are ready to meet Jesus and we are thankful for a godly heritage.
It isn't good-bye, it is see you soon!
As I reflect over the last week and all the events that occurred, I am utterly amazed at God's faithfulness even to the end, down to every detail. His timing so perfect even in death. Rising higher than the feelings of sadness and mourning, are a great sense of pride and honor to have known my husband's father for 14 years.
He was a man of greatness. I learned this weekend while reading documents that he was 5 feet, 8.5 inches. I saw him much taller than that. Perhaps it was his character that was larger than life. Small in stature maybe, but great in heart and humility. Noble.
Some characteristics I admired about my father-in-law --- some I experienced first-hand and others I just learned in speaking to family recently.
1. He was a many of integrity. He was the type of man that would find a pen behind his ear on his drive home from work and turn around to return it.
2. He took care of my mother-in-law who suffered with cancer for 21 years WITHOUT a word of complaint. Not a mutter. This is amazing to me!
3. He had my husband, his 4th child, at the age of 51. Can you imagine? And, he raised him well.
4. He worked hard and persevered to care for his family in every way.
5. He had a delivery truck and among delivering "goods", he also used it to transport teenagers to church services and conventions.
6. He shared Christ with many people throughout his life.
7. He had an uncanny ability to answer a question with a question. This is clearly hereditary. Have you ever heard my husband do this? Hmmm.....
8. He served in World War II.
9. He loved ice cream. It is said that you aren't in the family unless you love ice cream. I fit in the family quite well and my boys are clearly their papas grandsons.
10. He was generous.
11. He often spoke of his "good life". His attitude determined his altitude. He did suffer hardship most certainly, yet his attitude said otherwise.
12. He was ready to meet Jesus. He had accepted Christ as his personal Saviour. He lived his life to attain eternity with Jesus.
13. He raised four wonderful children. My brothers-in-law and sister-in-law exemplify many of the traits above. My husband is a gift to me in more ways than I can count.
14. He was truly a man of greatness, leaving a lasting legacy.
Thank you, Papa, for living your life the way you did -- with uprightness, self control, and dignity. Thank you for leaving a legacy that we are proud to pass on to Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy. We too are ready to meet Jesus and we are thankful for a godly heritage.
It isn't good-bye, it is see you soon!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
"Picky Nicky"
In the mid 70's "Nicole" was a popular name. For all the Nicoles' out there, we have all been called, "Picky Nicky" at some time or another. It rings true for me too.
Definition 1: To Pick - transitive verb choose something or somebody: to take, or decide to take, one or more things or people from a larger number.
There is power in picking. Power in being the pick-ee and power in being picked and power in not being picked.
My school years afforded many occassions for not being picked in physical education class. How I despised standing in a line waiting to be picked for a team. I hated being in the remaining bottom two and still not being chosen. I was added to the last team by default. Truthfully, I didn't add value to the team. I was not athletically inclined. Not being picked only added to my humiliation on any type of field or court.
Add 50 pounds to any junior high girl and not being picked spreads beyond gym class. Boyfriends. Dances. The whole nine yards. Not being picked = rejection.
Definition 2: To Pick - transitive verb undo something: to loosen, unfasten, or separate something into disconnected parts, especially something that was sewn together
The result of definition 1 is definition 2.
Today my "picky" thoughts are running wild after listening to a broadcast on foster care. My sister and her husband, after having two children of their own, made the decision to take babies into their home through foster care. A noble thing to do. In essence, they are "picking" children who may feel "unpicked". Each child is brought into their home and cared for and loved as their own. They are given the very best and an abundance of love! The message overflowing in their home is, "You are worth it! You are chosen! You are picked! You are not disconnected or separated. You are part of us."
In my own life, fast forward a few decades. Saturday I am running yet another 1/2 marathon. Most likely, my perseverence and motivation stems from enduring elementary gym class! I am absolutely cherished, chosen, and chased by my wonderful husband and three sons. The Lord has lavished His love on and in my life. I am chosen. I have been picked! In fact, the night before I got married my mom read me the storybook, "I'd Choose You." It is about an elephant (Mom, what were you thinking...after all that trauma, an elephant!? Just kidding.), that gets the last seat on the bus, the worst lunch, and the last one picked on the team. The mother elephant says over and over in the book, "If I could have anyone in all the world, I would still choose you." (Thanks mom!)
Now, do I have any choice but to be a pick-ee? I have the power to pick everyday by adding value to lives, by loving like Christ, and by lavishing grace on others.
Colossians 3:12 Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.
Signed -
Not Picky Nicky, but Pick-ee Nicky
Definition 1: To Pick - transitive verb choose something or somebody: to take, or decide to take, one or more things or people from a larger number.
There is power in picking. Power in being the pick-ee and power in being picked and power in not being picked.
My school years afforded many occassions for not being picked in physical education class. How I despised standing in a line waiting to be picked for a team. I hated being in the remaining bottom two and still not being chosen. I was added to the last team by default. Truthfully, I didn't add value to the team. I was not athletically inclined. Not being picked only added to my humiliation on any type of field or court.
Add 50 pounds to any junior high girl and not being picked spreads beyond gym class. Boyfriends. Dances. The whole nine yards. Not being picked = rejection.
Definition 2: To Pick - transitive verb undo something: to loosen, unfasten, or separate something into disconnected parts, especially something that was sewn together
The result of definition 1 is definition 2.
Today my "picky" thoughts are running wild after listening to a broadcast on foster care. My sister and her husband, after having two children of their own, made the decision to take babies into their home through foster care. A noble thing to do. In essence, they are "picking" children who may feel "unpicked". Each child is brought into their home and cared for and loved as their own. They are given the very best and an abundance of love! The message overflowing in their home is, "You are worth it! You are chosen! You are picked! You are not disconnected or separated. You are part of us."
In my own life, fast forward a few decades. Saturday I am running yet another 1/2 marathon. Most likely, my perseverence and motivation stems from enduring elementary gym class! I am absolutely cherished, chosen, and chased by my wonderful husband and three sons. The Lord has lavished His love on and in my life. I am chosen. I have been picked! In fact, the night before I got married my mom read me the storybook, "I'd Choose You." It is about an elephant (Mom, what were you thinking...after all that trauma, an elephant!? Just kidding.), that gets the last seat on the bus, the worst lunch, and the last one picked on the team. The mother elephant says over and over in the book, "If I could have anyone in all the world, I would still choose you." (Thanks mom!)
Now, do I have any choice but to be a pick-ee? I have the power to pick everyday by adding value to lives, by loving like Christ, and by lavishing grace on others.
Colossians 3:12 Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.
Signed -
Not Picky Nicky, but Pick-ee Nicky
Friday, April 20, 2012
Take the Stairs
Earlier this week, Daddy announced a book he is currently reading titled Take the Stairs. I have not read the book. However, I immediately formed an opinion of what I think it should be about. />
"Take the Stairs" has become a famous quote throughout the week. What does it mean to me? Don't take the elevator or the easy way or the pain free way. Take the stairs. Do the work. Make the effort. Give 100%.
Success comes from taking the stairs when any other way is easier. It is a combination of self-control, discipline, strength, perserverence, and tenacity. It strengthens instead of enables.
In boysturf language that means, give it your best the first time. Use your best handwriting. Complete the assignment. Get your pee in the toilet. If you get it out, put it away. Give LIFE your ALL.
In mothering, I can "take the stairs" by responding calmly instead of reacting. Preparing well for homeschooling. Managing my home, time, and money. Taking breaks so I don't break.
The concept is found over and over in the Bible, Colossions 3:17, "Whatever you do.....do it with all your heart." Even loving God isn't for wimps. Deutoronomy 6:5, "Love the Lord with ALL your heart, soul, mind, and strength." Philippians 3:14, "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." We are talking about pressing on and taking the stairs. Doing LIFE and loving God with your whole heart.
Really, it is probably the other way around. When I love God with my whole heart, soul, mind and strength, I am much more apt to "take the stairs" in all I do and in my relationships. The temptation to take the elevator looms, but the reward is in taking the stairs.
Climbing on..... Mommontheboysturf
"Take the Stairs" has become a famous quote throughout the week. What does it mean to me? Don't take the elevator or the easy way or the pain free way. Take the stairs. Do the work. Make the effort. Give 100%.
Success comes from taking the stairs when any other way is easier. It is a combination of self-control, discipline, strength, perserverence, and tenacity. It strengthens instead of enables.
In boysturf language that means, give it your best the first time. Use your best handwriting. Complete the assignment. Get your pee in the toilet. If you get it out, put it away. Give LIFE your ALL.
In mothering, I can "take the stairs" by responding calmly instead of reacting. Preparing well for homeschooling. Managing my home, time, and money. Taking breaks so I don't break.
The concept is found over and over in the Bible, Colossions 3:17, "Whatever you do.....do it with all your heart." Even loving God isn't for wimps. Deutoronomy 6:5, "Love the Lord with ALL your heart, soul, mind, and strength." Philippians 3:14, "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." We are talking about pressing on and taking the stairs. Doing LIFE and loving God with your whole heart.
Really, it is probably the other way around. When I love God with my whole heart, soul, mind and strength, I am much more apt to "take the stairs" in all I do and in my relationships. The temptation to take the elevator looms, but the reward is in taking the stairs.
Climbing on..... Mommontheboysturf
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Thirty. First.
The 31st of March marks Babyboy's 3rd Birthday. I am gearing myself up for this out-of-toddler-years promotion.
Babyboy is my baby. He will always be my Babyboy. I just don't like all these LASTS. By next year at this time I probably won't need to carry him through the parking lot. His stroller might have strolled its last stroll. All traces of pull-ups and sippy-cups will be extinct.
A radio podcast speaker that I heard recently said that he would pay $10,000 to go back and tuck his kids, now young adults, into bed one more time. Last weekend, when Babyboy was calling from his bed for the 4th or 5th time, Daddy said, "I'm saving myself $10,000." and headed upstairs. I didn't quite get it. "Remember, the $10,000? I want to tuck him in while I still can." Good point Daddio.
Instead of getting annoyed with my almost-three Babyboy, I am trying to cherish all that he brings. Tantrums when it is time to come inside. Spills when he wants to do things by himself. Occassional potty-accidents. Questions. Too many outfit changes every day. Yet,he is such a joy! An early-bird. An animal-cracker-muncher like his mommy. A Toby-Mac rap fan due to Oldest and Middleson. A smart little whip. A lover of the outdoors. A Matchbox zoomer. A Psalm 23 memorizer. Mommy's little helper. Daddy's biggest fan.
The 31st is fast approaching. I'm stalling like I have every mid-March since he was born. Today I'm savoring it all. I mowed the grass and he watched me from the window. I motioned for him to join me with his lawnmower and his smile was one of a winner of a million dollars. He followed me around the grass like a baby duckling.
Babyboy, in less than a week, you will be a grown-up three year old. Three year olds can do so many things! Today you are still my toddler-two-year-old and I plan to baby you as much as possible. I love you!
Babyboy is my baby. He will always be my Babyboy. I just don't like all these LASTS. By next year at this time I probably won't need to carry him through the parking lot. His stroller might have strolled its last stroll. All traces of pull-ups and sippy-cups will be extinct.
A radio podcast speaker that I heard recently said that he would pay $10,000 to go back and tuck his kids, now young adults, into bed one more time. Last weekend, when Babyboy was calling from his bed for the 4th or 5th time, Daddy said, "I'm saving myself $10,000." and headed upstairs. I didn't quite get it. "Remember, the $10,000? I want to tuck him in while I still can." Good point Daddio.
Instead of getting annoyed with my almost-three Babyboy, I am trying to cherish all that he brings. Tantrums when it is time to come inside. Spills when he wants to do things by himself. Occassional potty-accidents. Questions. Too many outfit changes every day. Yet,he is such a joy! An early-bird. An animal-cracker-muncher like his mommy. A Toby-Mac rap fan due to Oldest and Middleson. A smart little whip. A lover of the outdoors. A Matchbox zoomer. A Psalm 23 memorizer. Mommy's little helper. Daddy's biggest fan.
The 31st is fast approaching. I'm stalling like I have every mid-March since he was born. Today I'm savoring it all. I mowed the grass and he watched me from the window. I motioned for him to join me with his lawnmower and his smile was one of a winner of a million dollars. He followed me around the grass like a baby duckling.
Babyboy, in less than a week, you will be a grown-up three year old. Three year olds can do so many things! Today you are still my toddler-two-year-old and I plan to baby you as much as possible. I love you!
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