(I promise, more resources to come.  the new camera has arrived I just need to take some pics.)

“Come to me, all you who are labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30

I have so many verses running through my head right now but Matthew 11:28-30 seems to be standing out the most.  The Lord is calling me to Him for the rest that I so need right now.  Not the sleeping kind of rest but the rest from the weariness of life that we allow ourselves to feel.  Rest from constantly trying to fight the will of our Lord.  What silly people we are, He tells us right there in verses 29 and 30 to take His yoke which is easy and will give our souls rest. 

Gillian just had another febrile seizure about an hour ago.  I found myself to be such a hypocrite while dealing with the whole situation.  First let me start by saying that in the last year we have had 2 families we know deal with the loss of children.  One passed away at birth and the other died in a car accident (she was almost 3 years old).  Watching these families go through their losses was very painful.  I felt like God was reminding me that my children our His and He can call them home at anytime.  I am fully aware of this and even talked about it with others how I knew that God could take my children back anytime He wanted to and I would be accepting of His will to do so.  It is so easy to feel that way and to say those things when your children are healthy and running around and just fine.  Then Gillian started seizing and I found myself on my knees pleading with God to not let this be the time when He takes her.  Hypocrite!  I guess I really need to work on this in my heart a little more.  I know I have written this before in posts about seizures but I will never get use to watching my daughter turn blue and become comatose.  I actually walked out of the room this time (hubby was there trying to get her to come to) and just fell to my knees and prayed.  God has been so gracious to not allow me to be home alone when she has had her seizures.  I truly feel that He knows that I could not handle that. 

As always. Gillian is doing just fine.  Neither one of us could sleep so we are up watching Polar Express together.  And as always, I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted form the whole ordeal, mostly because I was fighting the will of God.  I was doing everything in my power to stop a seizure from coming which is futile when my powers are nothing compared to the Almighty’s.  So I will work on taking His yoke upon myself and trying to not fight His will.  He will then give my weary soul the rest that it needs.

Out of honor for my husband, I will not go the "egg-head" route...

Last week our family continued the tradition of enjoying a Passover celebration.  I love the symbolism that non-Messianic Jews sadly miss:  the three pieces of matzoh bread (representing the Trinity) with the second piece broken and hidden away (Jesus' broken body), the hidden matzoh later retrieved (the resurrection?), and the cup of fellowship (of which Jesus did not partake on the night before his death since he had the cup of wrath to drink, but that we enjoy because of His sacrifice).  There's so much more of course: Jesus, the Passover lamb himself; salt water to remember the tears of bondage while in Egypt (our bondage to sin before redemption);  herbs to remember the hyssop which brushed the blood above the doorposts (perhaps a tie-in to John 19 or Hebrews 9?). 

I love the fact that God gives us Old Testament pictures to point us towards Christ and opportunities today to be reminded of the work done in Him. Our celebration was indeed a time of great rejoicing and thankful remembrance of the Lord's passing-over. 

Gillian is known for getting into things and/or doing things that she shouldn't be doing!  Here are some "lovely" pictures we have captured over the years of Gillian being Gillian :o)

~Here is the reason why we only get the paint out once a year!   Gillian does not have tactile defensiveness!  She loves getting all ooey  gooey.

This is what we woke up to one Sunday morning five years ago.  We didn't even know she was up.  She can be so queit and sneaky sometimes.  Apparently she was hungry and helped herself to an apple and some Hershey's syrup! (yep, it's all over her and the floor and the fridge!)

We also limit the use of markers around our house.  Now that I think about crayons aren't really safe either!  We just try to remember to do these things under adult supervision.

We didn't even have to teach her how to put the shaving cream on!  She just learned  by watching daddy.  What a smart girl

And lastly....we have also had issues with eating dirt.   Apparently she is missing some kind of nutirent in her diet.  Or maybe she is trying a cheap version of a mud mask?  Who knows.  It's Gillian!!!!!!!!

on resources.  I promise.  First, I broke our digital Camera (dropped it a few weeks back during a really cool hail storm.  I was a little excited!) so I haven't been able to take pics of the other things I was going to blog about. Then we have all battled a yucky 'ol cold.  Everyone is better now except for me.  I decided to make hang onto the cold until it became a sinus and double ear infections!  I love to do things big.  So until then here is an old picture to enjoy

Gillian loves playing the piano at my Grandma's house.  I hope to one day have her take piano lessons.  I think she would do really well..

Hubby has off this week to get ready for his deployment, so we are doing a little "paper school" here and there, and lots of outside, doing stuff with Dad kind of things.  The weather has been beautiful so we have really been enjoying the outdoors.  We've been planning, or should I say dreaming all kinds of ideas for the back yard.  I may actually get to have a sunflower fort this year!  I can't wait!! 

So, we've been a little scarce as we've been getting some great family time in! 

Not much more to report on though, as school's been kind of slow.  We have been playing a lot of games though, so I guess that's a good thing.

Dear Heather,

Most people don't expect to be the mother of a sixteen year old when they're thirty-something: I was no exception.  And yet, just months after my thirtieth-first birthday, God radically changed my expectations...He gave us you.

When we adopted you--I never use that term legally; as far as I'm concerned, you became our daughter in April of 2001 not a year and a half later when the courts signed official papers--I didn't expect the myriad emotions that would run rampage in my mind.  Love, fear, concern, worry, and protectiveness seemed to mingle in a jumbled confusion as I learned to be your mother. 

I loved you before we adopted you, and yet differently than I would grow to love you.  Unlike most moms, I knew my little girl before she was "mine".  I'd come to care about you while Dad was your pastor, not your father, and I had grown to love you as we sang silly songs together in a tiny back room of our little church when I was your youth leader, not "Mommas".   Once you came into our home, I found myself growing to love you more and more.  Perhaps as I learned to sacrifice my own desires and began serving your needs better, I learned to love you more richly.  Perhaps as you allowed your protective barrier to inch its way down further and further, I loved you more deeply.  More likely, I believe that I loved you more and more as God knit the six of us into the Walker unit.  You were chosen as a member of our family before the foundation of the earth.  God had finally brought us together.

But I still had much to learn.  I was still so self-centered in much of my thinking. I was afraid of making mistakes. I'd never parented a girl before, let alone one who was already a teenager.  Would you love me back?  Would I earn the title "Mom"?  Would you wish you'd never become a part of our family?  Would you rather live with your biological mother?  Would...would...would?  Each night I found myself questioning, wondering, and crying out to God.  I was concerned that you wouldn't understand our desires for you and would rebel at our principles.  I was afraid that we wouldn't capture your heart.  I was concerned for your well-being at a public school when we were against everything that it represented.  I was fearful for your spiritual health--worried that we wouldn't have enough time to teach you Godly principles.  But God is faithful.

One tool that he used to grow us as mother and daughter was our journaling.  I'm so thankful that we began writing to one another. Those letters were the beginnings of my love letters to you, my dear.  As I wrote, I began to understand God's plan for me as your mother.   I prayed for you before penning many of those notes and through those prayer times God began to grow a love deeper than I could have imagined possible.  Slowly, my fears began to dissipate.  Oh sure, I still worried about you, and still do, for that matter, (that's a mother's perogative, isn't it?) but it became the natural fears of motherhood, not the irrational fears of a floundering woman learning her role.  My worries were gradually replaced by great joy in our relationship.  My heart was filled with wonder at the blessings of God.

Six years later, I find myself changed again.  You've been married for three years now, and our role has metamorphosed into a new delight; we've become friends.  How good God is.  How very, very, GOOD. 

My daughter and friend, may you always know how very thankful I am for the blessing of you.

Dear Corey,

If Dad and I had named you as the Old Testament prophets named their children, we might have called you "Son-of-Many-Faces".  You love to entertain!  Your clownish facial contortions make us smile and you've always delighted in bringing laughter through wiggling ears and alternating eyebrow lifts.  Of course, your myriad faces haven't always served you well.  I'll never forget a night many years ago: the night of the fearsome monster.

When you were about two and a half or three you realized that if you raised clawed hands, stomped your feet slowly across the living room, raised your eye brows high, and growled through half-smiling, snarled lips at your older brother, he would squeal hysterically, laugh uncontrollably, and run circles around the house.  That of course, was just the payment "Son-of-Many-Faces" desired.  So, one night when sweet-little-you came stomp-growling into our bedroom, Dad and I clung to one another with feigned terror while I cried, "Oh no!  It's a monster!  Help!"  To this day, I shudder to remember your frightened face. The cute wide-eyed "beast" became once again, our sensitive Corey as you ran, panic on your face, full-speed into our arms.  Never imagining yourself as a monster, you assumed that there was imminent danger from a prowling creature right on your heels.   

You will find Corey, as you mature, many times when you will fail to recognize the monster that is you.  What I mean is this: humans commonly fear the unknown--dark places, uncertain futures, big moves, rejection.  But what we often fail to realize is that the biggest danger typically lurks much closer to home: right in our own flesh.  Even as redeemed believers we face daily battles against ugly "self". If you can become a man who examines his heart on a daily basis, confesses his sinfulness, studies God's Word, abides by Scriptural principles, holds himself accountable to others, and prays for his Father's will rather than his own, you will become less and less "monster-like" and more and more Christ-like. 

Last, dear son, remember the refuge you found in arms of your loving parents; your heavenly Father loves you infinitely more.  He's there when the "monsters" really are at your heels and He's there when the struggles are a bit closer to home.  At all times, even when the monster is you, find comfort in His arms. 

With Love,

Mom

Wow!  The snow is gone (again!) and the weather has been beautiful!  But my friend K assures me NOT to give up on winter yet.  :)  But I must say, spring fever is still rumbling and bubbling in me!!  This weekend I finally went out and cut the grapevines back.  My backyard neighbor wasn't home at the time, and I'm sure he felt pretty "nekked" when he came home and saw almost the entire fence (it was so entangled with old vines!).  But I'm assured that we'll get a good crop of tasty grapes this year because of it.  I hope so, cuz I really hacked them!

We're finally all better, which is great because it's been really lonely sticking to ourselves!  G still hasn't gotten his orders yet, but they'll come any day now.  *sigh*  We finally met our new neighbors too, and G said they seem really nice and they're children are pretty well behaved (5yog, 3yob, 10mog).  So that will be nice!  Just hope we can still enjoy our privacy too. (I dread having kids over all the time, other people's children, doing as they please....but that's me.)

So that's what's been happening lately.  That, and, I'm already planning out next year's school.  We'll be using http://amblesideonline.org and adding some stuff to that.  I'm really looking forward to it!

"Piglet had got up early that morning to pick himself a bunch of violets; and when he had picked them and put them in a pot in the middle of his house, it suddenly came over him that nobody had ever picked Eeyore a bunch of violets." 

-The House at Pooh Corner

     When I was a little girl and would spend a night at my paternal grandparent's home, my grandma always curled up with me to read aloud from A.A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh books.  How I loved the sweet way my grandmother did Piglet's bits--a little frightened sounding, yet brave...always gentle.   

     I want to live like that.  I want to pick a bunch of violets and share them with a grump.  I want to call to the neighborhood children to share the cheery joy of spring's first crocus opening it's brilliant cup to a world of browns and grays.   I want to fill the gas tank of the stranded,  smile at the broken-hearted,  hug the stranger-woman who cries for a reason unknown.   I want to open my door to the needy, call the lonely gal who desires to talk when I have "better things to do".   I want to walk slowly with the aged, sing songs in the ears of the suffering, give until it costs.  I want to be a balm to the hurting, a light to the dying, a living letter to the world. I want to live for Christ even when I'm a little frightened.  I want to be brave...always gentle.