A Mother's Love

One of the hardest thing about being a parent is having to walk with your children during their hurts. Whether it's nursing them back to physical health, or mending their spirit through a heart ache, it's a painful process. When they hurt, I hurt. Motherhood truly keeps me on my knees and humble before the Lord!

My mother has always been my best champion. No matter what my pain is, whether physical or emotional, I've always run to my mom to nurse me back to health. When I was a little girl, I loved listening to my mother's fervent prayers. I still do. At 41 years of age, the little girl inside me still needs her to cheer me on, pray for me or mourn with me while my heart breaks. It's just what most moms do....or, more specifically, it's what she does. What an amazing blessing that I know I take for granted!

The last three years I have been on a spiritual quest. At 38, I finally found the Lord of my childhood, but it hasn't been an easy road. Walking in the spirit but living in this world can be challenging....and heart breaking at times. At the end of the day, though, I know that it's my mother's early teachings, her fervent prayers and her unconditional love for me that ultimately helped me see God's true face.

What an amazing influence we mothers have on our children's lives! How incredibly important it is that we get it right...because one day they may need to see God's face through our unconditional love for them.

Since it's the day after Christmas, I can't help but think of the ultimate mother...Mary. What incredible heartache she endured being the mother of Jesus. Unfathomable, unspeakable heartache...even though she knew the outcome was for good, her mother's heart had to have been broken many times. Even Jesus, dying on the cross, worried about his mother's emotional pain. He hurt because she hurt. True love is like that, though. It's not always carefree and easy; sometimes there is tremendous pain involved; sometimes there is sacrifice and selflessness, but that's what makes it real.

While You Were Sleeping

Casting Crowns has an amazing song called "While You Were Sleeping" that I just added to my play list. Gosh, this song has so stirred my spirit this Christmas season. I never intentionally set out to be so self-absorbed that I miss Him...and yet, ashamedly, I must confess, lately I have missed His true message for me. I have allowed outside circumstances to take away my joy instead of realizing who I am and to whom I belong! I have given into anxiety, raw emotions and worry. After slumbering in my flesh, I have finally opened my ears to hear Him. Really hear Him. You see, He never yells or screams but whispers softly. Until I can get me (or the world) out of my head, it's the only voice I can hear. Thankfully, I'm not asleep anymore and He isn't silent! Thank you, Lord, for awakening my spirit through this song.

This is what He tells me: "Do you know how much I love you? Do you know that you were bought with a price? Do you know to whom you belong? You belong to: The King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Almighty God! Why do you slumber in your flesh? Don't stay asleep, Tyra. Open your spiritual ears to hear my sweet, gentle voice. The Holy Spirit never leaves you; He is as close as the air you breathe. You are not alone. Cast your cares on Me, my sweet girl. I love you...not because of who you are but because of who I am. Nothing...NOTHING can separate my love for you."

What is He saying to you? Do you need to get the world out of your head so you can hear Him? Don't slumber and miss the message He has for you. Allow Him to love on you...it's just what He does and who He is! It's ALL good....

Thankfulness

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. What an amazing time of reflection to count one's blessings! It warms my heart to think that for one day, we, as a Nation, can stop our busy lives, join together and say "I'm thankful." That is a TRUE reason to celebrate!

I sometimes wonder if the Lord gets so tired of our grumbling; of our complaining; of our ungratefulness. I know as a parent, it's tiresome when I hear ungratefulness from my children. I feel ashamed when I "hear" it from me. Even though my life is far from perfect it's still...so blessed. It's worthy of my gratitude. So...here are my thankful for's:

My Lord...for He has taught me what true love really is.
My husband...for the amazing man he is. He puts up with me! :)
My children...for the way they make me laugh every day.
My mother...for her unconditional love that I know I take for granted!
My relatives...for the memories and life that we have shared.
My health...for the miraculous way God made our bodies.
My friends...for the truly amazing and wonderful women that God has hand-picked just for me!
My home...for it's warmth, coziness and beauty.
My memories...for reflection. Life IS the memories we make...I love making good ones.
My travels...for it's my passion. I LOVE traveling. God always provides a way for me to!
My music...for it's always been my secret desire to be a singer, and in my fantasy world, I'm a good one!
My future...for I know the plans He has for me are good!
My life...for even though I look forward to heaven, I am thankful for this life He has given me.

Dear Lord, thank you for loving me even when I'm unlovable. Thank you for knowing the desires of my heart and caring enough to bless me...even when I don't deserve it. Thank you for turning my sorrow into joy and my pain into gladness! Thank you for never leaving me nor forsaking me....even when I have forsaken you. Thank you for writing on my heart that ALL your plans for me are GOOD! I praise you, Father, for YOU are good! Your blessings are extravagant and your mercies and graces are forever. You are love! I am thankful to be your daughter.

Oh...and I'm also thankful that on Thanksgiving, big thighs are a good thing! :)

My songs

I know, I'm lame. Slowly but surely I am learning new tools to jazz up my blog. Finally, I figured out how to add music, and I'm so excited! A few years ago I discovered the David Crowder Band, and I have to tell you, they really minister to me! Plus, I just adore his voice. What an anointing and blessing to be able to speak into people's lives with music.

The first song on my play list is "How He Love Us" and I passionately believe this is the true testimony of Christians. If we can just remember His love, above everything, nothing else matters; right? Then the second one is "Who Am I?" by Casting Crowns. This reminds me to be humble; after all, who am I that the God of the universe cares to know my name?

Each song is my anthem that gets me through the day and carries me to His throne. I am so thankful for the blessings of these songs.

Confessions of a Mad Housewife

I must confess. Yesterday I had a melt-down. You know, the kind where you just lose it over nothing earth-shattering or life-altering; just one more thing added to your to-do list while the kids are screaming and the dog is barking and the phone is ringing and the dinner is burning... For me, it was the printer. It was just the last straw in another battle of the wills that I had no control over. I just wanted it to print. I thought when we bought a printer that that is what it was created to do: print.

I checked all the major components: Paper tray: full, black ink: brand new, power light: on...the basic needs of the printer were met, and yet, it would not print. The warning message flashed "refill the color ink", but I didn't have or need color ink. I wasn't asking for much; just plain, boring, black and white. Unfortunately, it was not going to print ANYTHING until the color ink cartridge was fully loaded.

"I DON'T NEED COLOR!" I yelled and pulled my hair. It did nothing. Crying didn't help either; I tried that too.

My family didn't understand my melt-down. Really, how could it be explained? I am constantly telling my children to not cry over "spilled milk" so how could I explain my tears of frustration over a printer? As goofy as it sounds, I needed to throw a tantrum. My system was on overload and it was either tears or profanity...or both. I apologized profusely after it was over, but it felt cathartic and cleansing, like a purging of the days' offenses being washed away by my tears.

However, as good as it feels to purge, I'm always left with a nagging feeling that one of these days, in the not-so-far-off future, my boys will be laying on a couch in a sterile office describing their mother's crying melt-downs to a head doctor while he reveals the real reason they can't cry at Hallmark commercials: "It's all your mother's fault!"

So much for tantrums.

A Love that Never Ends

I wonder how many people have truly experienced an unwavering, unending and unconditional love? People hurt, people dissappoint, people break your heart and/or break their promises. I'm so in awe of God's unfailing love. He has never abandoned me; never broken His promises; His loves continues whether I am deserving of it or not (and I'm not, by the way). He wooes me to bask in His love. I am His. Girls, do you realize how freeing that is?

Today in Life Group we were asked to articulate what the Lord means to us. WOW! How do you put that into words? Woman after woman shared their hearts on God's unending and unfailing love. Basically, God's girls say: He is enough. It doesn't matter if we are tall, short, thin, plump, pretty, plain; He thinks we are special. The world may say we don't measure up, but it just doesn't matter. He is enough. We are desperate for Him; we hunger for His precious Holy Spirit; He fills us up. He is our daily bread.

So to all the broken-hearted women who feel useless or used up, seek His love. He is waiting for you. He is enough and His love never ends.

Just sit on the pot

Last Thursday, Aidan awoke me at 4 am complaining of stomach pains. Like any mom of three, I assumed it was nothing and agreed to lay with him while he fell back to sleep. Two hours later, Rod and he were on their way to the emergency room. This felt like deja vu as Aidan has complained and gone to the e.r. before only to discover he needed to pass gas. That was a pretty costly toot.

As Rod pulled up to the e.r., he noticed that Aidan was quiet and calm in his car seat. Rod asked him again if he was sure this wasn't another episode of him just needing to fart. "Dad," he mocked, "I was just being tough." He insisted he was still hurting. Thirty minutes later, after having to wait in a hospital room unseen, Aidan announced: "Let's get out of here, Dad. I just want to go home. It's taking too long." he whined.

After a once over by the e.r. doc on duty, Rod calls me and announces that Aidan has a hernia and needs surgery at Cook's Childrens' Hospital in Ft. Worth. They are coming to get me so I can ride with them. It sounded so serious, but it also didn't feel right. The doctor didn't even take x-rays. After years of watching George Clooney on the tube, I knew that was the first thing a physician should do.

Arriving at Cook's, a female e.r. doc immediately assessed the situation, and within seconds said it wasn't a hernia, but his bladder that was distended. After x-rays were taken (I knew George was right), the problem seemed to be with a huge amount of stool backed-up in his colon that was pressing on his bladder, which was keeping him from urinating. My poor little guy! He was full of crap, literally.

This week we found ourselves back at the doctor's office but this time with our trusted and beloved pediatrician. A day after the e.r. episodes, Aidan had a 102 fever, vomiting and lethargy. Was this all because of the poop or did he pick up a virus in the e.r.? Finally it was decided. An enema was to be performed. Have you tried to do an enema on a four-year-old? Let me just say, it ain't pretty.

So all of this poop business has left me thinking that my favorite comedian, Tim Hawkins, is right: it all boils down to poop. In his act, he makes fun of his southern mother who's remedy for all that ails a person is...to sit on the pot.

Mom: "Just sit on the pot, and you will feel fantastic."
Kid: "But mom, I think I broke my leg"
Mom: "Just sit on the pot!"

Happenings

Wow...it's been awhile since I've written. What can I say? Summer is a beating. Being a person who thrives on a schedule (not to mention a slightly neurotic only-child), the spontaneity of Summer and the abundance of rowdy boys really throws off my balance. I'm comforted by the fact that I'm on the last leg of Summer bliss, and soon my normal routine will restore my equilibrium...or so I'm hoping.

As much as I like to complain about Summer, there have been many wonderful days spent enjoying being lazy and swimming with the boys and friends; Rod and I went on a 5-day, 4 night Jamaican trip, mon; and we got a lot of house projects taken care of. Not too shabby!

Oh, and Andrew lost his first tooth....all is right with the Universe.

Marriage Warfare

I'm disappointed, and admittedly, angry, confused and saddened. I have few answers to my complicated questions: How does love turn to hate? How does commitment and long-suffering suddenly become replaced with infidelity, betrayal and divorce? Marriage has become such a trivial joke that I fear the next generation won't have a clue what it's really about. Or perhaps it will become obsolete altogether; I mean after all, what is the point of taking vows to love and cherish when the majority only mean unless things get tough...then I'm outta here!

For the past few months I've been shocked. More and more married couples with young children are splitting up. Lately, it's been stories about the cheating husband with the live-in nanny (that doesn't even speak English), or the one who runs off to the Caribbean with his new girlfriend, all of whom leave their wives and children behind to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. It's not always the husband, since apparently, the latest trend is housewives suddenly deciding they are gay and leaving their families for Susie down the street. And each time, my heart breaks. Surely they know what statistics say about children of divorce. Surely, they realize how selfish, callous and cruel their actions are. Surely, it keeps them up at night.

But more importantly, where is the outrage? Other than a befuddled shake of the head and a good gossip session, there doesn't seem to be any. Another broken family; what else is new? Yawn.

Now, with every tabloid and entertainment show announcing the pending divorce of Jon and Kate (plus 8), I'm disgusted. I've followed the show for years and even read Kate's book. I loved the Christian values and dependency on God they seemed to have. Yes, Kate could be controlling and bitchy at times; yes, Jon could be a clueless doormat at times, but that was okay because they were in it for the long haul. For better or worse. After all, they have EIGHT souls depending on that; right?

Although I truly wish each person good will, I hope their show is cancelled. I hope they are so humiliated and humbled that they lie on their faces broken before Him. After being stripped of their pride, perhaps then, will they be able to hear His voice. My prayer is that they can. My prayer is that they will take up their armour and fight...not like a sissy...but a warrior that belongs to the Great I Am. My prayer is that they stand on the truth of His word and defeat the enemy.

I don't have a perfect marriage by ANY stretch of the imagination...and at times, it's still a work in progress...BUT my best moments are when Jesus heals my brokenness. My best moments are when I put my husband first. My best moments are when I actually make the words of the bible be a living testimony. My best moments are because of who He is, not who I am.

Even though they will never know it, a mighty 5 foot tall warrior is praying for the families and marriages of America. The battle WILL be won!

Brotherly Love

Since I was raised an only child and missed the wonderful world of "sibling rivalry", I am constantly baffled by the fighting and hateful words that my children use towards one another. In an effort to have a kinder and gentler environment, I've been trying to encourage the boys to use more positive, sweet and nice words with one another. Perhaps they are taking it a bit too far.

As we are driving to camp a few days ago, Andrew announces from the back seat, "Hey, sorry, guys...I just tooted." Alex yells from the front seat, "Gross, that STINKS!" Aidan, remembering my pep-talk on brotherly love, proclaims from his car seat, "Oh, I think it smells good, Andrew!" Andrew says sweetly, "Thank you, Aidan." I roll down the car windows in disgust. Complimenting each other on their gassy explosions was not what I had in mind.

Even as I am writing this, I am once again confronted with the painful fact that my words are spoken in vain. As Andrew and Aidan are playing Lego's, each one is excitedly showing me their new creations. I appropriately ooh and awe over the little blocks of plastic that are supposed to resemble a castle or an airplane. "Do you like it, Mommy?" Andrew asks. "Oh, yes!" I reply enthusiastically. "Do you like mine?" Aidan asks curiously. "No, it's weird." Andrew remarks before I can say anything. Aidan is crushed and I am baffled. I want to shake him and yell, "This is the boy who even likes the smell of your farts, for crying out loud, can't you at least like his stupid Lego airplane?!" So much for brotherly love.

Strawberry Pancakes

So many wonderful events have taken place since I last wrote. I attended Ronald's graduation from high school in Tampa, I picked out new appliances for our kitchen, I've been fishing and boating at my in-laws' lake house and, of course, I celebrated a marvelous Mother's Day.

Since Alex is an early riser, he was the first boy to greet me and wish me a fabulous day...and to my delight, surprise me with breakfast in bed! Even though I would have preferred to sleep in a little, he decided that 6:30 would be just the right time to surprise me with strawberry pancakes and orange juice! He even put the cards he and his cohorts had made on the tray for me to read at my leisure. What a sweetie! I think he might make a good husband someday....or a good chef at Denny's...you never know.

The cards are my favorite because they always make me laugh. According to Andrew, my favorite thing to do is blog and sleep, and Alex graciously commented on my youthful 29 years of age, while Aidan made me a blue hand print and drew a likeness of me sans the neck. Rod sent me roses from he and the boys...but Andrew insisted he knew nothing about it...and asked if I had a boyfriend. He was really confused when I told him it was daddy. We had brunch at our favorite kid-friendly restaurant with our mothers and laughed and shared our day together. It was perfect. What a privilege it is to be a mother; I hope I never take it for granted.

Of course, summer is fast approaching and I'll have to re-read this blog to remind myself that motherhood really is a blessing and not a curse. When I feel my nerves being frazzled to the core, I'll have to repeat my new mantra: "Strawberry pancakes. Strawberry pancakes. Strawberry pancakes." I will either gain 10 pounds or be a much sweeter and gentler mom...time will only tell.

If I Can Make It Here...I Can Make It Anywhere!

I just returned from the city that never sleeps, and as it turns out, neither did I. A whirlwind of a trip with my 3 traveling companions, childhood friends that I reconnected with on Face Book, has left my body feeling much older than it's 40 years. I have never been so jetlagged...hmmmmm....the swine flu, perhaps? But I digress.... Anyway, it was a trip full of laughter; especially in the wee hours of the night, which was so good for the soul (but not my bladder). If you've had children, you understand; right? It was also a trip of sadness as we comforted our friend whose father unexpectedly passed away the night we arrived in NY. It was a trip of reconnection and nostalgia and funny stories. A trip that will always hold cherished memories, inside jokes (What's that smell? It's New Jersey and Those aren't your abs!) and life-changing events. It was a chance to be young, carefree and silly again!

Yes, after 4 busy, fun-filled days and 3 sleepless nights, I can honestly say..."If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere!" Thanks, girls for inviting me! I had the time of my life. When is our next trip?

Experience Beauty

These past few days in Texas have been unusually beautiful. It is the kind of weather where one just wants to bask in the glorious sunshine, fill the lungs with fresh air and smile. The earth is bursting with delicate flowers from seeds planted month's ago. It's as if God is granting us a tiny glimpse of His paradise; not just on occasional Spring days, but every day, forever and ever...and ever! How gracious and merciful is He that even among the thorns, a perfect rose blooms. I know I couldn't bear life's cruel hardness without the beauty to keep me going. I want to be thankful for these simple, yet miraculous, pleasures of life. I want to be still and experience beauty. Really experience it.

I'm reminded of Romans 8:28: "All things work together for good for those who love the Lord." Even during the cruelness and unfairness of life, ALL things work together for good. I love that! Believers aren't immune to hard times, yet we have the comforting assurance that God is walking with us through the storm. He will work it ALL out for good...if not only to glorify Him, because, after all, He placed the roses among the thorns.

To friends battling cancer: The war you are facing is heavy. Don't grow weary but praise Him for what is yet to come. Put on your spiritual armour and fight knowing His blood is covering you.

To a single mom whose husband is in prison: Lean on His strength to carry you through this difficult season. Cry on His shoulder, then wipe away your tears and stand on the truth of His promises.

To all the Americans who have lost their jobs: Strip away your pride until your heart is naked before Him. Do not worry about tomorrow but cast your cares on Him. He is the Master of your finances.

To loved-one's suffering from depression: Open your weary eyes and search for Him. He is there, crying with you and washing your feet. Take His hand and walk beside the Prince of Peace....for His burden is light and His yoke is easy. Share this love with another, and your pain will be gone.

To anyone who is reading this: Experience the beauty He has graciously, lovingly and thoughtfully given you. You are loved. Bask in that knowledge.

Healing

http://hypster.com/myaccount.php?add_song=1124215

Rod had knee surgery on Tuesday, (remember the ski trip?...yeah, torn ACL on the first day) and watching him go through the process of recovery made me realize that healing wounds (emotional or physical) become the hardest part of the journey. After three C-sections and a very painful tummy-tuck in less than a decade, I am no stranger to the agonizing, frustrating and slow process of healing. Although brutal at the time, the mind somehow forgets the pain; the body heals and scars fade. Ironically, physical pain, once gone, is easy to forget...but emotional pain somehow lingers and can, if not dealt with, grow even more caustic. Wounds of the heart penetrate deeper. Perhaps this is why God tells us to guard our hearts; He knows the consequences are costly.

Watching my husband get prepped for surgery took me back all those years ago when my own father, at age 42, was about to become the first heart transplant recipient in the state of Florida. The hospital was buzzing with excitement, fear, ambivalence (there were protesters outside chanting ignorance) and the media was alert and ready to record it all. At 16, and too immature to really understand the enormity of it all, I felt more like a spectator than a participant....like somehow, it wasn't real and I would wake up from a dream. I can only imagine how my father felt. He was only 42 and this was his only hope for survival. WOW! That age, at the time, didn't seem so young...but now, it seems devastatingly so.

Without my Jesus, I don't know how a person could get through it...and he wasn't a believer! However, the most precious moment I had with my father was right before he went into the operating room. With tears flowing down my cheeks, I took my father's hand, bent down close to his ear, and asked him to recite a prayer of salvation. Looking back, he was heavily sedated and probably had no idea what he was even saying, but for a young, scared girl, I needed to know his heart was right with the Lord. His heart. Although, most organs in the human body are necessary for our survival, none is more important than the heart. To me, it's where our soul is. I wanted this new heart to not only be vital in keeping him alive, but also receptive to the Lord. Although I'll never really know, until my death, if my father accepted Christ that day, I do affirm his heart was more tender to receiving Him after that. After all, it has taken me this long to really know Him and I have essentially believed all my life. Hard-headedness truly runs deep in our veins!

So...here's to Rod healing physically and spiritually. With God's mercy and grace, both will be mended to and in His timely will.

Where the Heart Is

http://hypster.com/myaccount.php?add_song=1124215

The Lord says he doesn't look at one's outward appearance, but at the heart. He isn't looking for a perfect person, but rather, what character and intentions lie beneath the facade. To me, it is so important that My God knows my heart, and He is pleased with what he sees. I want to instill this God-awareness in my children, and hopefully, raise men of integrity. As I tuck them in at night, my prayers are for them to never cause the Holy Spirit sorrow by the wrong intentions of their hearts. Then, the Lord revealed to me that my prayers are indeed being heard and answered.

The other day Alex came home and told me he got a "good citizen" sticker while in the cafeteria. Which means, if a teacher notices good deeds or random acts of kindness towards another person, she rewards the child with this sticker of praise. He went on to explain how he noticed a boy sitting by himself in the cafeteria and raised his hand to ask a teacher if he could move to sit by him. (They aren't allowed to move once they are seated. ) The teacher said to wait and if after everyone made it through the lunch line, the boy was still alone, he could move. He waited and watched; no one sat by the boy. Alex got up, packed up his lunch, moved away from his comfort-zone of friends, and sat by the lonely boy. After listening to his story, I just stared at my 8-year-old in disbelief. How could he, at such a young age, already have more character than most adults I know? I embraced him, kissed his little cheeks and stared into his hazel eyes. "You are a boy after God's heart; I have never been so proud," I said. "Most importantly, God is proud."

Realizing that God hand-picked me to be these boys' mother seems, at times, to be a daunting task. My confidence sometimes waivers...what if I'm not apt enough? After all, I'm too impatient, too self-fish, too inexperienced...but then I remember David. A lowly Shepard boy, whom God hand-picked to be the King of Israel; not because of what he was, but who he was. WOW! Thankfully, my heart knows to whom I belong...humbly, His servant. I am up to the task indeed! I am HIS.

Home On The Range

Our family just returned from a Dude Ranch vacation in Bandera, Tx. Cowboy hill country, to be more exact. There is something inside of me that longs for this way of life. I'm not sure if it's the simplicity and natural order of things that has my heart longing for the country pastures, or if it's just the Texas blood running deep through my veins, but whatever it is, I feel strangely at home on the range.

I love the politeness and strong, yet gentle, manner of the cowboy. I love the intoxicating aroma and warmth of the campfire that invites one "to take a load off and sit a spell." I love the sound of the clipity-clop of horses' hooves trotting on the trail. The amazing feeling of riding on one of God's greatest creatures and realizing the enormous strength and beauty of this animal. The sound of the mealtime bell clanging in the air, inviting all of us to partake in the necessary ritual of replenishing our hungry bellies. The home cooked goodness of comfort food that brings on the uncanny desire for a mid-afternoon nap in a swaying hammock. Awe...the joys of country living leaves me longing for all it's simple pleasures.

The boys seemed completely at home as they took to catfish fishing like they were born to fish...something we never do...and yet, it seemed as familiar as breathing; like they had done it a million times before. Yes, I could see my little cowboys being quite at home in God's country. The smoke from their cap guns penetrating the fresh air still lingers in my nose even now, as I think back on our trip. We created cherished memories to be filed away in the corners of our minds, and remembered in the stillness of our days.

Goodbye Dixie Dude Ranch, until we meet again. I will think of you fondly.

Run For My Life!

My middle son, Andrew, who is 6, is the comedian of the family. Most of the time, he's not trying to be funny, he just is...which is what we love about him. He's our social butterfly and never-meets-a-stranger kind of guy. He's a compassionate lover of all animals. He is unique...for a better lack of words.

Like most families, we want to instill a sense of responsibility, moral and ethical values and problem-solving capabilities in our children. We have this game that we sometimes play at dinner where we take turns choosing a card with a question, riddle or activity for us to do as a family. One particular evening, we chose a card that posed this ethical question: "What would you do, if while parking your vehicle in a parking garage, you accidentally hit the car next to you?" We decided Andrew would answer this question first. I could see the wheels turning in his 6-year old brain as he furrowed his brow and bit his bottom lip. Like any proud mom, I was anxiously awaiting a thoughtful and morally-sound answer. After all, we had taught him to be an upstanding guy who takes responsibility for his actions.

"I would...RUN FOR MY LIFE!" Andrew said emphatically. After Rod and I looked at each other in disbelief, we all started laughing. Quick to correct his judgment, we explained why and what the right answer was to this question. Being positive he had learned a valuable lesson and was now ready to answer this probing question, we asked: "Now, tell us again. What would you do?"

Without hesitating he said: "RUN FOR MY LIFE!"....like, duh, didn't you hear me the first time?

So, in ten years, if someone mysteriously bangs up your vehicle, please remember that we tried...and pray for us!

The Battle of the Sexes

People are such interesting creatures. As modern and sophisticated as one likes to assume they are in the 21st century, it all boils down to the vast innate differences between men and women. Although I fully embrace my female gender as miraculous, capable, intelligent and strong creatures, I am not a feminist (I wear too much makeup and fix my hair for that title). However, since I've been out of the work force for almost 9 years, and my companions consist mostly of other moms and little boys, I have witnessed a quirky disposition to my female foe.

It all began when my husband started taking guy trips several years ago with a group of friends he went to college with. (He is currently on a ski trip in Colorado with 8 other men.) The odd reaction I get when I tell my female friends where he is ranges anywhere from anger, resentment, accusatory to "how-are-you-going-to-get-even-with-him" type of attitude. The weird thing is, it has taken me about 10 years to figure this out. I want to thank Chris Rock for opening my eyes.

One night, when I couldn't sleep, I came across a late night cable comedy show by Chris Rock. Trying to put aside his vulgarity, I found myself drawn into his routine about the differences between men and women. It goes something like this (without the f-word):

Chris Rock: "Why is it, men, when your lady wants to go out with her friends, you are so happy for her? She comes home and says, 'Baby, we had the best time! We got our nails down and then went shopping and I got this adorable purse. Then we saw that new movie with Brad Pitt and we all cried...blah, blah, blah' and you are genuinely HAPPY for her! BUT if you go out with YOUR friends, don't you DARE come home and say you had a good time! NO, NO, NO! If she thinks you had ANY fun without HER, you can just kiss sex GOODBYE fellas! If she asks...LIE! Don't you EVER come home and say...'Oh, it was great! It was the best game I think I've ever been too...we had the best seats...it was the bottom of the 9th, all the bases were loaded and A-Rod hits it out of the park...'. No, fellas, you can't do that! You get up the next morning, thinking everything is cool; you ask your woman for breakfast and she says, 'Why don't you ask A-Rod to make your breakfast!' "

Now, of course, Chris Rock is a comedian and he gets paid an extremely large amount of money to make jokes...but it got me thinking...what he said was TRUE. Women DO have a problem with their man going out without them and having a good time. Even worse: a trip! I mean the NERVE! I have friends that have actually said to me, "Well, MY husband would never go on a trip without me." or "Well, when is YOUR girl trip?" or "When is he going to take YOU to the mountains?" It's actually quite comical because most of these women consider themselves to be feminists. Hmmmm...what does the word equality mean, ladies?

Here's the honest truth: I'm not the jealous type and I fully trust my husband. Plus, I'm not afraid of him having fun without me. I've gone on plenty of girl trips and girl dates without him, and you know what? He WAS happy for me. My whole hang-up all these years has been my own gender trying to make me feel like I should be angry, jealous or hurt. Mostly, I was just more concerned about being able to handle the kids on my own for 5 days, not that he might have a good time without me. So, here's to you, honey! If you are reading this, I hope you have a wonderful time! If anyone is deserving of a little fun and relaxation, it's you. HAVE FUN! And I promise, I won't make you suffer for it....I'll even make you breakfast! :)

Laying it Down and Running

My faith teaches me to lay down my burdens and cast my cares on Him. At times, this is the hardest part of the process for me. My flesh wants to hang onto those cares that weigh me down like an unhealthy love/hate relationship. It's a constant battle of the wills, and at times, it can be exhausting. Flesh and spirit battling each other for the win. However, ultimately, the war brings me closer to Him. During those times, I sing a beautiful song to myself, close my eyes, and picture myself running and running up, up, up this huge green mountain that takes me to the clouds.

"I hear the voice...the voice of the one I love
He's calling my name (Tyra)
He's saying...

Come up higher...hear the angles sing
Come up higher....my beloved
Come up higher...leave your cares behind
You'll find me to be beautiful...

I am running....running after You
You've become my soul's delight
I am running...running after You
Here with you I've found my life"

Tears fill my eyes and run down my cheeks. I am loved; I am cherished; I am His. His love is overwhelming, and even though I'm so undeserving, he takes that burden and lays it at His feet. I am free and light as a feather.

What an awesome God I serve! Run to Him and lay it down. You will find Him to be beautiful....

Say It Isn't So...

The annoying part of growing older, I am convinced, is the fact that a young person is still living inside my older body...taunting me! You see, the younger, slimmer and perkier version of myself is screaming to come out, but the older, fatter and tired version is trying to shut her up with a glass of wine, or a brownie, depending upon my mood. I've also discovered that denial has become my new best friend since all full-length mirrors are now banned from my view. If I can't see those dimpled thighs, then they don't exist; right? Shhh...

How did this happen? I woke up one morning and suddenly had to worry that my butt was getting too big! What? Huh? Who me? My sons are now jointly singing "I like big butts and I cannot lie" as they use my robust derriere as a bongo to keep the beat. I defend myself by proudly stating that in some cultures, big booties are considered beautiful. They laugh and laugh. Apparently, I'm funny. Meanwhile, hubby goes into hiding and pleads the 5th while my tormentors continue with their rendition of "Fat Bottom Girls Make the World Go Round." My alter-image 28-year old just smiles at those silly boys...what do they know? Humpft! "DON'T MAKE ME SIT ON YOU, YOU SKINNY WEAKLINGS!" she yells.

However, at the end of the day, when the house is silent and I'm left with my own torturous thoughts, I finally admit: perhaps my love affair with all things chocolate and gooey has finally come to an end. I am now a grown-up. I am officially...on a diet. But don't tell my alter-ego; she still thinks we look hot. Shhh....

MLK, Jr...and a 2nd grader

My son, Alex, loves Social Studies. It's his favorite subject in school, and he especially loves American History and studying about American Heroes. The Friday before the MLK, Jr. school holiday, his class watched a documentary on the Civil Rights Movement and the impact of this American Hero's influence on our history. Before Alex could even get buckled in the back seat of our van, he started telling me about the documentary and how touching it was.

"Mom" he said, "you wouldn't believe how they used to treat black people." A part of me was sad that his innocence was gone; he now knew that the world is not color blind. "It was very touching," he continued "I sort of got tears in my eyes." Our talk about racism continued as well as discussing what kind of hero MLK, Jr. was. Then he asked, "Mom, isn't it a good thing that we now have a black president?"

After a deliberate hiatus of not talking about, watching or listening to any commentary on politics, I was somewhat reluctant to go down this path. Not to mention that trying to explain the complexities of politics to an eight year seemed like such a daunting task. Our dialogue went something like this:

Me: "Yes, yes. Absolutely. It's a wonderful thing that we have a black president. However, he's actually called bi-racial. His mother was white and his father was black...but he is a man of color. A lot of black people said that they never thought they would live to see it. I am very proud that our country has come this far in being color-blind, unfortunately, he's on the wrong side of the issues."

Alex: "But you didn't want him to be president, right?"

Me: "Not because of his skin color, honey. I don't vote for someone based on their skin color or what gender they are. I disagree with many issues that he stands for, that's all."

Alex: "Like what?"

Me: "Abortion for one."

Alex: "What is that?"

Me: "It is when a woman can terminate or abort her pregnancy."

Alex: "Huh? Kill a baby?"

Me: "Well...essentially, yes."

Alex being thoughtful for a few seconds. "What is a PhD?"

Me wondering where this is going..."Uh...a doctor of education in the field that they are studying."

Alex: "Martin Luther King, Jr was a PhD. I think he liked history, like me. I checked out a different book on him at the library."

Me: "Oh, good."

Alex: "So if Obama was not for killing babies, you would like him?"

Me: "Oh, honey, it's more complicated than that. And for the record, I don't dislike him as a person, just his politics. God says to pray for our leaders and I will pray for him and hope that he chooses the right path God has for him."

Alex: "Okay. Our teacher says not to say anything bad about the president; it's disrespectful."

Me: "I agree with her; she's right. We should lift him up...but Alex, Obama and MLK, Jr are different men with different philosophies. They share similar skin colors but their views on certain issues are different. I consider MLK, Jr a hero. Obama hasn't done anything in my mind to make him a hero yet. Hopefully, he will."

Now we are home and our conversation is over. Free time before homework and reading has become his new priority. Several days later, since the kids were off from school, they watched the inaugural ceremony with me...and even though Obama and I are on different sides of the fence, I did feel proud for him that as a man of color, he made history that day. As Rick Warren prayed, I felt the Lord stirring in my spirit..."Lift him up to Me in your prayers. Pray for wisdom. Pray for guidance. Pray for strength. Pray for his protection. Pray for his precious daughters."

Today in my bible study, an amazing woman of God spoke these words: "We are a country divided on issues. Issues aren't the problem. Once Jesus becomes the priority, issues resolve themselves. Stop praying about the issues but pray that God will reveal himself to each man. Pray for salvation because that is the most important issue of all." Amen! I suppose that's what Martin Luther King, Jr., would have spoken over us as well.

A New Beginning

Welcoming in the 2009 New Year, and reflecting upon the main events of last year, I soon realized how blessed I am. As a person who tends to wallow in an endless sea of regrets and who is quite often displeased with herself, even I had to admit: I am blessed.

Why? I am not famous, nor enormously wealthy; I haven't solved any of life's major problems; I haven't accomplished even half of the things I thought I should have by now. I don't have an Olympic gold medal or a Bestselling Novel and nobody has ever asked me for my autograph (even though I perfected my signature as a preteen). My life is fairly simple and relatively drama-free...so what makes it so special or blessed? So often it's just the little things that I cherish the most. Such as: the way Aidan laughs, the smell of his little boyness as we cuddle and play match game for the millionth time. I love Alex's dimpled cheek (just one), his amazing memory and inquisitive mind, deep voice and slight lisp when he says "s". I adore Andrew's up-turned Papa-nose with a sprinkle of freckles laying across the bridge, his zest for life and his outgoing personality...he always has a "new best friend"....and his deep love for animals. I love our family dinners where we laugh and share about our day. I love the quiet stillness of the house as boys' slumber in their beds. I love kissing my husband's full lips and listening to his deep resonating voice and laugh. I love how the boys' adore him and use him as a jungle gym. I love how he makes us all feel safe and how he can fix anything! I love my morning coffee with French Vanilla cream; the way the morning sun peeks through the living room windows and casts a golden hue on the hardwood floors as I have my quiet time with God. I love that God reveals himself to me in so many little aspects as well as the big ones! I love that God cares about the little things and delites in our joy.

For all these things, I am grateful. I am blessed.