What would you wish for?

Do you you remember these as a kid?  We used to pick them, close our eyes, think of the one thing we'd want most in our whole lives, then hold them up to our face and blow.  As we watched all the little white puffs dance in the wind, an excitement would come over us.  What if our wish actually came true? 

Yesterday I was a taking a walk.  Having summers off is a wonderful gift!  I so wish every person got to have summers off!  I have time to walk or bike daily.  I'm loving it! 

Anyways as I was walking by a cornfield a little puff of white appeared...just a few steps ahead of me.  I lunged for it.

Yes!  Caught it!

I giggled.

I held it up to my face, closed my eyes and wished, "May every person know you, sweet Jesus!"

I blew and watched as all the little white puffs danced in the wind.  An excitement filled me as I thought what if every single person living today knew Jesus.  No, I don't mean 'know of Jesus' I mean really know Jesus, talk to Him like a best friend, get lost in the love of their lives 'know Jesus.'

Instead of being consumed with worry because they were recently cut from their job, they'd have peace...Jesus knows, He'd work it all out. 

Instead of being grouchy because they had snapped at their husband or kids that day, they'd apologize and feel the incredible grace of being forgiven by their most important people and the Savior who loves them, just as they are.

Instead of being overwhelmed by a to do list that is longer than a 24 hour day, they'd ask God to help them sort out what needs to happen and what can wait.  Then when they accomplished the "need to's" they'd smile.  They'd know they'd done 'just fine.'

Instead of getting stuck in the quicksand of negative thinking, How'd I forget to get my husband's laundry done? How'd I forget to get Madison to her orthodontist appointment?  How'd I forget to send Matt his check? What is my problem? They would have the power to substitute God's truth and think of that instead.  Jesus loves me, even when I mess up.  He calls me 'His bride.'  He knows my name, my every thought, my secret dreams and the things that drive me crazy about myself.  He knows me...and He adores me.  Just like the t-shirt Meredith bought the other day says, "I may not be perfect but Jesus thinks I'm to die for."

Instead of getting lost in the frenzy of busyness, going from thing to thing, they'd learn to live each day to the fullest, yes, still having to get some things done, yet valuing their relationships and committing to build there and apply generous amounts of time there, too.

I no longer wish for a swimming pool or a pony as I once did.  No, I'm 45 and I may be a little wiser - maybe.  :)  But this wish can change a life.  I know.  It has changed mine!

P.S. Have questions about "how to?"  Call me.  It's my favorite thing in the world to talk about!

Happy Father's Day

My Dad!  How I love him!  We share so many traits. 

My mom always told me how after having 3 girls, I was born.  She gasped.  Could it be?  She stared at me...I was a perfect miniature of my dad.  Yes!

Then the doctor proclaimed, "It's a girl." 

No...how could it be?  I looked just like him.  She checked just to be sure.  Yep. The doctor was right.  

Then she cried.

Why?  I'm not for sure.  Was she really wanting a boy?  Did I look so much like a boy she was worried?  I don't know.  I'm afraid to ask.

So yes, I share my dad's nose, his grin, his short eyelashes, his determination, his optimism, his ability to dream, his hard work, his ability to teach, his love for his family. 

I didn't just have a father, though. I had a daddy.  We would beg my dad to play "throw us out the window."  He'd scoop us up and in a spinning motion pretend to, you guessed it, throw us out the window.  With each swoop toward the window, he would count...1, 2...on 3 he spun us around in a big circle while saying "whee."

He also spent time with us.  He often came up to the house to ask for volunteers to check oil with him.  My sister, Carla, and I would carry oil cans back and forth between the trucks and refilling them in the garage.  I remember him unlatching the side of the hoods of his R-Model Mack trucks and telling us to see if we could pull it down by ourselves.  Yes, of course, my strong, younger sister, Carla could.  I remember struggling with my hood and watching as my dad pushed just a little so I could, too.

My Dad!

He never once got mad when in my 18th year, I had not one or two, but three car accidents!  But it might explain why the very next year as a freshman in college I got a plane ticket to get me home every holiday.

My Dad!

When I didn't get a teaching job the year after I graduated, it was my dad who said, "It's o.k.  You'll get one next year."  It was my dad who said, after my husband graduated and had no pastoral opportunities, "It's o.k.  Come to Ohio and work for me.  That'll give you time until the right job comes along."  It was my dad who said, when he went to a BMX race with Matt and I and Matt was disrespectful, and I felt like the worst mom ever, "This is a tough age.  He'll be o.k."

My Dad!

My dad's always had a way to ease the tough times.  My dad's always had a way of giving me hope that things would be o.k.  And he's always been right...oh er, except for the teaching job the next year.  :)

I never doubted that my dad believed in me.  I never doubted that my dad saw me as "worth his time."  I never doubted that my dad loved me.

So much of me is him.  That's the best gift ever.

My Dad!

Crazy Song!

Last night as Bobby and I caught the end of "A Few Good Men" Madison and Michaela came bursting in, laughing so hard they could hardly catch their breath.  We were at the part where Tom Cruise is interrogating Jack Nicholson right before he cracks.  We gave the girls "the look."

Amazingly, even Michaela, kept it quiet until a commercial came on a few minutes later.  Then they exploded.  Between laughs, Madison told us about the scene they had just witnessed.

Meredith had been standing at the sink, razor in hand, trying to shave her armpits.  Now for an ordinary person that's not such a big deal.  But for tiny Meredith, with tiny armpits, getting a straight one inch razor to shave her egg shaped pit is a job.  Yet she persisted.  All the scraping started irritating her skin. 

Without warning she burst into song...

Zits in the pits,
Zits in the pits,
Lookin' like a fool with zits in the pits.

She's some Meredith!  :)

Babies!

                                       
I got Madison on the charter bus to go to Washington D.C. with her Freshman class then zipped back to church to teach my 3rd and 4th grade class.  I snuck in as the opening singing was going on.  I glanced up to see three junior highers leading them in  "Love, Love, Love your Enemies, Pray, Pray, Pray for those who persecute you."  Ooh, one of them was my Mer!  I beamed.

I glanced around the children.  Where was my class? 

Most all of them had been promoted up to their new classes last Sunday.  I looked at the back of their heads, mentally noting who was now going to be in my class.  Kole Baumann, Alainna Butler, Jorden Schonecase, Emma Heilwagen, Tara Garner...babies!  I had many of them when they were in the 3's and 4's class.  They're too little to be going into third grade!

In the blink of an eye, Madison had grown up.  As I helped her pack for her trip last night, I noticed a little framed picture of her as a 4-year old, wearing bunny ears, with her hands cupped up like bunny paws.  Tears flowed uninvited. 

"Mom," Madison asked gently.

I held the picture to my chest.  "Look at you.  You were my baby!"  Her chubby cheeks and round face, I had almost forgotten.

Madison pulled it away and in typical Madison fashion put it back on the shelf where it belonged...but this time backwards.

"We gotta pack!"

Yes, my little tasker was right. 

I glanced around at the babies that were somehow going to be in my class.  I thought of the first time I had met Kole and he had no shoes on.  While in the basement visiting with his mom and dad, we glanced over to find 2-year-old Kole, perched up on the Foosball table.  Kole had just been 2.  How could he be a third-grader?

It hit me. 

To get the amazing privilege to build into a slice of life for each of these babies was off-the-charts incredible.  I get to be their teacher.  I get to share the awesomeness of a God who knows their names, their favorite foods and their favorite colors.  I get to teach them Bible verses they will know forever!  I get to disciple them to be true followers of the one living God.  I get to shake them up so that the fragrance of Christ can pour out of their lives everyday or at least some days.

They will grow up fast...and I get to share in that!

Amazing!

The Book I Read All the Way Through

Yes, it doesn't happen very often.  It's a little embarrassing to admit.  Yet, the truth is I have a stack of books (I had a stack of books till my husband put them into one column the length of Jack's Beanstalk and carefully balanced them all the way down the stairs and laid them on my office floor) that I've read some of but haven't finished.

Yes, I am a teacher.  Yes, I love books...perhaps just a little too much!  Besides, at night who knows what I might be in the mood for - Chicken Soup for the Writer's Soul, Stories for a Woman's Heart,  The Life of Amy Carmichael, Traveling Light or Jewish Culture for Dummies.  I mean I like to keep my options open.

Truth is I did finish a book last night!  It was one of the many books I got for Mother's Day.  Are you dieing to hear the book's name?  Captivating, Unveiling the Mystery of A Woman's Soul by John and Stasi Eldredge. 

You've all read it, haven't you?  You're all thinking, What took you so long to read this book that everyone raved about...six years ago? 

Yes, Matt's girlfriend was here for the past few days.  She's read it twice and even done a book study on it.  :) So much for being on the cutting edge.

So why was it so great? 

I think one of the most memorable parts was a point that Stasi made that coincided with a conversation I recently had.  The coming together of real life with a succinct quote...BAM!

I had left a conversation on parenting with a friend.  We were discussing disrespectful children and getting very specific.  So specific, she was addressing my child.  Now I am the first to admit, my children are not perfect.  Yet still, as I left that conversation, I felt defensive.  I felt judged.  I'm sure my friend didn't realize how I was feeling.  Perhaps, I should've let her her know.  At any rate, when I opened Captivating that night, I read "A woman of true beauty offers others the grace to be and the room to become."

BAM!  "A woman of true beauty offers others the grace to be and the room to become."

I immediately thought, Have I ever made a friend feel defensive or judged?  Am I intentional about making those around me feel grace and love?  Do they leave me and feel hope?

The grind of life can feel forever, like pedalling up Mount Everest on a bigwheel. It can be unsettling like sticky fingers with no running water.  It can be annoying like a wet sock.  For Pete's sake, I don't want to make it any harder on my friends...I'll save that for my enemies, thank you.  :)

(Just kiddin...sorta.)

Twin Teaching

Quincy United hosted it's annual soccer tournament.

Madison's Team lost their first game, then won their second.  Semi-Finals were then scheduled for Sunday at 10:00.  Uh-Oh, I thought.  Of course, it would have to be when I teach my Children's Church class!  What to do?

I considered asking the 3 wonderful subs that had helped me the previous 6 weeks during SLYSA games and tournaments.  But no, I couldn't give them enough notice. 

As I was thinking out loud, Meredith asked, "You just need someone for tomorrow?"

"Yep," I said.  I want it to be someone the kids will love.  Someone the kids will connect to and learn from."

Meredith smiled, "Uh, could I do it?"

By this time Michaela had come in.  "Me too?  That'd be so awesome!  Mom...can we?"

"Mom, ple.e.e.ease!" Meredith chimed in.

Now I was smiling.  My girls were begging to teach children's church.  No one begs to teach children's church!  But I wasn't complaining!

"Girls, you can't teach alone.  You'll at least need an adult there with you."

Meredith frowned.  "Well, as long as they don't take over."

I thought for a few minutes.  I remembered back to when I was in highschool and I first started teaching the 2's and 3's class.  It was horrible! 

What kind of children were these?  They didn't know how to sit down.  They just wanted to play.  They weren't even listening to my 45 minute lesson!

Yes...not a good thing to throw me, the newbe, into a class without guidance.  It almost kept me from doing the very thing I love and was made for. 

Hm...It really mattered who that adult was. 

It had to be me.  As much as I wanted to be with Madison, I knew I had to be with Meredith and Michaela.

I told the girls I would be the adult. 

"O.k." Michaela reluctantly agreed, "just remember we're the teachers!"

The girls ran through their ideas and plans with me.  It sounded good.

The next morning, as I came zipping into class in my black sweats, there was Meredith.  She sat at the front of the table.  She flashed me a quick smile, then finished explaining the "cooperative scale" as Michaela wrote the kids initials on it.

Wow, my girls are really cooperating themselves, I thought.  They usually cooperate about as well as a teenagers colic on prom night.

Meredith then read a story about siblings who didn't cooperate and fought over the remote.  She then asked a discussion question.  Several children blurted out.  "Hands up," Meredith called.  Immediately the kids hands went up.

Wow, the class is really listening.  They are engaged in the lesson.

The morning went quickly.  I found myself in awe when Meredith asked Michaela to go get the pitcher of water for snack and.....Michaela did!

My twins have done many things together.  They shared my uterus, sippy cups, and my lap.   But today they shared in something even more intimate...loving and serving their Jesus!

Today Madison had a loss.  Meredith and Michaela...a win!

Soccer Moms

Soccer moms...I've been one for a long time.  There are as many types of us as bags of junk food in the Walmart aisle.

There's the soccer mom that hyperventilates when their child gets bumped off the ball.  There's the soccer mom that yells "Be tough" when their child goes up for a header and smashes heads with their opponent and lands in a heap.

There's the soccer mom that packs their child's bag complete with 3 pairs of socks in both team colors, 2 extra jerseys and a can of fabreze.  There's the soccer mom who's never even opened their child's bag, ever.

Soccer moms. You'd think since I've been doin' this awhile I'd have this thing down.  I mean, I started back when Matt was 3.  That was 17 years ago. 

So why is it that two weeks ago at a tournament with Madison, I started really noticing a particular soccer mom?  She was video-taping every game.  She went on to tell me that after the game she and her daughter were going to watch the video and dissect her play.

Wow,  I thought.  That's impressive.  Just think how much farther ahead her daughter will be when she can actually see for herself what she did on the field. 

I subconsciously tuned in even more to this soccer mom.  What else does she do well? I thought.  Besides buying a video camera or learning how to use the one in the closet from the dark ages what else can I do to improve?

I watched as she yelled for her daughter.  "Take the shot!"  "Shoot the ball."  Hm, maybe I should be yelling more.  Does Madison need to shoot more?  Probably.  Do I need to be yelling that?  Probably! 

Besides Madison would like it better than what I had yelled that morning. What's wrong with yelling, "Work harder, Madison!  Good job, she's workin' hard!  Get after it!"

O.k., in all fairness to Madison it was more specific than that.  She hated when I yelled "She's workin' hard!" (one or two times.)

"Never, ever," she said with eyes that mimicked mine when I used to substitute teach,  "ever yell that again!"

I bet this super soccer mom had never yelled that!

I glanced back over to super soccer mom. 

I could be just like the super soccer mom.  Just think how much better Madison could be if I were like super soccer mom.

Minutes later as Madison came off the field and we were driving to get something to eat, I asked her what she thought about me videotaping her games.

"Sounds like a good idea," she said.

Why had I never thought of this before, I berated myself. 

The next morning at Madison's game,  as I waited for it to begin, I looked around.  Where's the super soccer mom? I thought. Oh...way over there? 

Perfect!

I want to watch the game, not a soccer mom.  I want to yell like I always do (except of course "She's workin' hard.")  I want to focus on my Lily, not on myself.  I'm no super soccer mom.  I'm Madison's mom.  :) And that's o.k.