I've never been much of a seamstress.  I never took home economics in high school.  I concentrated on more academic pursuits.  The few sewing projects I have attempted over the years have been full of much frustration and little success.  So I can't really explain why I've had this sudden desire to sew clothes lately.  Part of it is the lack of ready made clothing that is easy for me to nurse in, or has long-enough skirts for my older daughter.  But that doesn't totally explain it, because this time, I'm actually enjoying sewing.

     So I decided that sewing clothes would be faster and easier if I had a serger.  Mind you, I've never even seen anyone operate a serger.  I know absolutely zilch about sergers.  But the instructions in my patterns make life seem so much easier with a serger, so Joel bought me one for an anniversary present.  I confess I was very intimidated by the contraption.  I can now thread my sewing machine quite quickly, but the serger has two needles and two loopers, with a separate tension dial for each.  I watched the DVD that came with the machine and felt I was up to the challenge.  Imagine my delight when I pulled the serger from the box to discover it had already been threaded at the factory!  The tension dials were all set and someone had already done a test with a strip of fabric and stamped O.K. on it!  (If I had it to do over, I would have written down those tension settings.)  I was all set to go and I didn't have to face the intimidation of setting up the thing myself!

     Then, I turned my back a second too long on my little Mistress of Mischief.  By the time I look again, she had pulled the sample fabric from the serger, tangled all four of the threaded strings, and adjusted the tension dials to their extremes.   So I began the long and difficult journey of getting acquainted with my serger and learning by trial and mostly error what does and doesn't work.  After watching the video twice more, investing two weeks of effort, rethreading the machine multiple times, and pestering my serger-owning friends with questions, I finally succeeded in getting it to serge like the video!   (This time, I immediately wrote down the tension settings!)  I decided that God must want to work on my perseverance! 

     I recently read an article that was printed in 1917.  It said that the most priceless characteristic a woman can possess is poise, and the best way to develop poise was through sewing.  I scoffed, and thought, "How could sewing teach some one all that?"  Well, now I know.  When you realize you've sewn the sleeve on inside out, or the last two panels on your skirt were topstitched after the bobbin thread ran out, or you learned what "with nap" means after you cut out your dress wrong, or the bobbin thread freaked out and made so many loose loops your daughter's dress looks like it has a fur collar, you either scream or learn to be poised.

     I'm making a lot of mistakes in my sewing, some cost me time, some cost me money, most cost me both.  But I'm striving to not make the same mistake twice.  My goal is to make a new mistake each day.  (I've given up on a mistake-free sewing project!)  I've discovered that once I accept fact that it won't be fast, it won't work right first time, and I'll absolutely positively have to use my seam ripper, it is a much more enjoyable process.  Trying to do well and be fast while learning a new skill is only an exercise in frustration and disappointment.  I've decided to give myself grace and rename "failing" as "learning".

     Life is a lot like that too.   I am an unsatisfied perfectionist.  I'm much happier when I accept the fact that I won't get it perfect the first time right from the start.  I'm so glad that God extends His grace to us too in life, even when we are too stubborn or proud to accept it.  

     In today's culture of moral relativity, where a unified standard for all is ridiculed, one thing often strikes me.  Whatever standard a person holds up for himself as what a "good" person should do, he or she can not attain it.  When we're honest, we see that no one can say they don't have regrets or haven't made mistakes.  And that's just by our own human standards.  If we can't live up to our own self-defined standards, how could we ever hope to live up to a holy God's true standards?  What hope do we have of ever being "good enough" for Him?  Have you ever tried to please a perfectionist?  It can't be done.  Well, God is the only Perfect Perfectionist.  If we can't please human perfectionists who are themselves flawed (though we hate to admit it), how could we ever please Him?  This, friends is the bad news.  We must accept the "bad news" as true before we can take real delight in the "Good News" (which is what Gospel means).  The Good News is He knows we can never attain righteousness on our own, and so has provided His own righteousness for us through Jesus' sacrifice.

     As I said before, I'm so glad He offers us grace.  I'm God's little Mistress of Mischief, interfering with His plans, sometimes innocently, sometimes willfully.  He could make much more beautiful creations without my "help".  Often, I tangle the threads when He could skillfully make the stitches even and neat.  Yet, in spite of my buffoonery, He lets me work alongside Him for the same reason I let my two-year old stay in the room with me when I'm trying to sew.  He loves me.  Relationships are more important than accomplishments.

     I have now talked to my daughter about the dangers of touching mommy's serger and the need to not so much as breathe out forcefully on the tension dials.  My serger and I have now come to an understanding, and I have completed my first project with it--a denim skirt.  When I opened the box to my new serger, I had no idea of all the lessons God had waiting inside for me--perseverance, grace, and most of all His love.

     Moving around as much as we do, we have experienced many different types of houses.  Every house has had features I liked and some I didn't.  I've often dreamed of building our own home someday when we settle down and being able to design it in the way I think would function best for our large homeschool family and our unique needs.  Mind you, I know nothing of architecture or building, but I do know that most pantries are too small and laundry rooms are usually an afterthought. 

     Now suppose, we have the opportunity to build our own home someday.  Let's say I order some plans from someone who does know about architecture and building and has degrees and years of experience in these areas.  But when I get the blueprints, I don't like everything I see.  I think I can make it better.  So I cross off the beams I think are ugly and I move the walls to suit my tastes.  Then I build the house according to my own plans.  What do you think would happen, given my limited knowledge of building houses?  I shouldn't be surprised when my house falls down around me and my family.  I would be a fool and would reap a fool's reward.

     Yet, how often do we do this very thing with matters much more important than house-building?  I'm speaking now of the Bible.  Often, while reading it, we come across passages that confound and perplex us.  We find it easier to ignore these than seek out their meaning.  Then there are the ones that make us uncomfortable because they highlight the little sins we don't particularly want to give up.  Maybe they speak of condemning actions our culture finds acceptable.  And sometimes most distressing, are the parts that paint God in a different light than how we want to see Him.  Wouldn't it be better just to cut those parts out?

     But God is the Master Architect.  His wisdom and understanding are limitless.  My own, however, are frail and not to be leaned upon.  To pick and choose from the Bible what I'm going to believe and what I'm going to obey are just as ludicrous as altering the blueprints to my house.  Who are we to edit the Word of God? 

     Years ago, I heard of a group who got together to vote on which quotes of Jesus from the Bible were things he actually said, which were things he might have said, and which things he didn't really say at all.  How ridiculous is that?    In studying American History, we read how Thomas Jefferson, a Diest,  wrote His own version of the Gospels.  He actually did physically, what many people have done mentally and took out the parts he didn't like. (In his case, the references to the supernatural.)  In my thinking, these two examples reek of arrogance.  Who are we to tell God what He actually said and what He didn't?  Who are we to say how things really happened 2,000 years ago?  God had it written down for us precisely because we were not there.  We wouldn't know unless He told us and preserved for us a record.

     If I worship the God I want to worship instead of worshiping God as He has revealed Himself, then am I really worshipping God at all, or I'm I just worshipping an imaginary god that doesn't really exist--an idol?  Idolatry is putting anything other than Jehovah-God on the throne of my heart.  I'll take that a step further and say idolatry is also worshipping God the way I wish He was instead of worshipping Him as He has told me He is.  How can I know anything of God unless He reveals it to me?  To tell Him who I think He should be is creating my own god.  God has created me, not the other way around.

     There are many parts of the Bible that I'd like to skip, or I wish weren't true, or I don't understand, or I never will.  Yet, if I start throwing out the passages that are difficult or uncomfortable, where does it end?  Much like my house analogy, it probably ends with things falling down around me and my family. 

 "Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.   --Matthew 7:24-25

     How does the wise man build his house?  He trusts that the Builder knows what He is doing and will build a strong and sturdy house if he will but get out of the way and let Him. 

     When my baby smiles at me, it brings such joy to my heart.  She's so tiny, and yet she lifts her chin and tosses her head back as if in laughter.  I'm "just" a stay-at-home mom, and I don't earn a salary, but when my baby smiles, it's a better reward than any paycheck I could receive for my work.  It's so fulfilling to see my little girl smile at me.  My heart feels so full.

      Then I see her give the same smiles and coos to the ceiling fan, and suddenly I feel a little less special.  My husband and I were wondering if perhaps we caught a glimpse of how God feels about our relationship with Him.  God delights to be in relationship with us.  It warms His heart when we "smile" at Him with our love, adoration, and praise.  But then, so often we turn and adore the things of this world that are temporary.  We look to the "golden calf" and say, "This is what saved us."  We praise the created instead of the Creator.  How often in my life do I give my smiles and my heart to the "ceiling fan" when all the while, my "Abba Father", my "Papa", longs patiently for me to turn my gaze to Him and smile.  I'm his baby and even though my words fall far short to adequately describe how wonderful He is, He loves to hear me coo and "make a joyful noise".  I can just imagine Him looking down from Heaven and saying, "My heart is so full when my baby smiles at me."

I came across this entry that I had scribbled in the back of my notebook. It was dated March '08 (pre-Mary Faith).  I'm not sure if it's poetry or prose.  I haven't edited it at all.  This is just how it poured out from my heart through my pen.  I feel like it is fitting to share this with you today, on Sanctity of Life Sunday as we acknowledge that all life, from conception to natural death, is sacred in the eyes and heart of God.

"How many children do you have?",
you ask me with a smile.
You have no idea how much that hurts.
You can't see the grief I carry inside.

"Should I mention my son?",
I wonder to myself,
"The one who never made it to his birthday?"

Will you see him as a person, and grieve with me?
Or will you shrug and say, "oh well",
as if I didn't just share my worst nightmare with you?
Or will you looked shocked
and abruptly change the subject to more pleasant things?

Or perhaps you've walked this road before
and I will find a kindred spirit in you.
Can I confide in you?
Will you accept my loss, my pain?

And what if I don't?
What if I decide not to share,
to treasure his memory in my mother's heart alone?
Have I betrayed my son?
Have I given into the world's opinion that he really never was a person at all?

God knows differently;
and so do I.

I held his tiny lifeless body-
there's no doubt of his humanity.
I know he lives now by Jesus' side.
I know I have another son!
He waits for me in Heaven.

Do you know he's real?
Do you care?
Perhaps you've been here yourself.

"Five," I answer softly.
"Two girls and 3 boys."
But deep inside my heart screams to me,
"No!  I have six!!  I have FOUR sons and I love them all!"
You don't see the sixth, because he waits in Heaven for me,
but that makes him no less real to me.
I have six,
and my mother's heart can not be convinced otherwise.

Do we believe life begins at conception?
Why don't we act like it?
Is God honored when we deny the existence of His tiniest creations,
the ones He spoke into being and breathed the breath of life into?

Will you please let me acknowledge ALL my children
and not think me strange or change the subject?
Will you tell me you're sorry for my loss,
and remind me of all my son has gained?

I may look "normal" to you.
I may appear to have it all together.
But please know inside I'm broken,
because my son waits in Heaven for me.
Please treat me tenderly.

I thought of this analogy in the middle of the night when I was up feeding Mary Faith.

     Imagine that I have a small hand mirror, the size that would fit in my purse.  Not only is it small, but it's not a very good mirror.  The glass isn't smooth and the paint is chipping off the back.  It has a few small cracks in it.  The resulting reflection is wavy, cloudy, and distorted.  Now suppose I use this mirror and catch a reflection of a part of a person's hand.  I study the reflection very carefully and then decide that I know that person completely because I have invested so much in the study of that reflection. 

     Silly, right?  There's so much more to a person than what can be captured by a small and flawed mirror.  Yet, how often do we do that to God?  We try to make Him fit in a box that's comfortable for us, or reduce His workings to some manageable equation that we can understand.  We stare and stare into our little mirrors trying to see who God is, but He's so much bigger than any of that!  He defies definition. 

     Sometimes I think God is quite intentional about debunking our theories and formulas about how He must operate.  ( I think He created the platypus just to mess with our taxonomy!)  Just when I think I have Him "figured out" in some area, He does something that doesn't fit my paradigm of who He is.  I long to understand Him, yet I know that any so-called "god" that is small enough for me to understand is not worthy of my worship.

     I'm not going to throw out my "mirror" or stop looking into it, trying to catch a glimpse of God's hand, but I must remember that I only see a tiny part.  He alone sees the big picture.  In the end, I must trust only Him and not my small ideas of how I think He should work.

Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. (1 Corinthians 13:12, NLT)

  I came across a hymn in my devotional book today that seemed to me to tie right in with my "Life is Like a Spinach Salad" entry.  "Day By Day" was written by Lina Sandell Berg in the 1800's after she witnessed the accidental drowning of her father.  Part of the first verse says:

He whose heart is kind beyond all measure
give unto each day what He deems best
lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,
mingling toil with peace and rest.

   In the second verse, she says, "As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure."  (a reference to Moses' blessing in Duet. 33:25)

   Lina has expressed it much more eloquently than I,  but I believe we are thinking along similar lines.  Though I can't begin to understand the plans of God, I must learn to trust Him "whose heart is kind beyond all measure".

     I just finished an excellent book called "The Shack" by William P. Young.  It has some similar themes.  I don't want to spoil any of the plot, but I highly reccommend the book to everyone.  It's a strange mingling of fiction and truth, creatvitiy and theology.  It's very thought-provoking.  I finished it in only two days, despite the fact that I'm taking care of 6 children.  I had a hard time putting it down.  Nursing babies are a wonderful excuse to sit down with a good book!  Read it and let me know what you think.

     I have long desired to have a peaceful home.  I have often despaired because I don't feel my home is peaceful.  We have a lot of people with a lot going on and quite frankly, our home can be quite boisterous and apparently disorderly at times.  Granted, there are times when the house is cleaned, the children are studious and curteous, dinner is delicious and on time, the clothes are washed and put away, the beds are made, and everyone is smiling--just not all at the same time! 

    So I was a bit surprised when my mother-in-law who stayed with us for 3 weeks during the holidays remarked about what a peaceful home we have.  I can fool people I only see a couple of hours into thinking I have it together but surely, after living in our midst for so long, she would know the truth.  She went on to describe the atomosphere of our home as "happy choas".  I realized then, that by "peaceful", I had always meant "quiet, subdued, & calm".  But there is a different kind of peace in our home.  One that is seldom quiet!  Though there are occasional tears and bickering as siblings do, for the most part our children are happy and good friends with each other.  This kind of peace is much better than one that is simply quiet. 

     Here's my spin on Forrest Gump's "Life is like a box of chocolates."  I developed this concept while mixing "Green Smoothies" in my new Vita-Mix blender. 

     Spinach is a very healthy, but bitter-tasting food.  If you want to enjoy eating a spinach salad, you need to add some fruit for sweetness.  The fruit doesn't change anything about the spinach, nor does it negate its bitterness, but eating the them together is more palatable than eating the spinach alone.  As Mary Poppins is fond of saying, "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down".

      Like a spinach salad, our lives can have some painfully bitter components, but there are also sweet tidbits tucked here and there.   Just as fruits and vegetables both contain necessary nutrition, so too, both the bitter and sweet times can be part of a spiritually and emotionally healthy life.  Many lives and salads have nutty parts, and that's okay too.  A little zany-ness can be theraputic at times!

     Having a new baby doesn't make losing the one before "all better", but the sweetness brings balance to the bitterness.  If life were all bitter, we wouldn't make it.  How wonderful that God knows our frame and remembers we are but dust and is merciful to us.  In His mercy, He brings sweet "fruit" to our lives.  In His wisdom, He doesn't fail to provide the "spinach" we need to grow strong in our faith.

     I feel like I'm always quoting songs, but they just seem to say what I'm thinking and feeling better than I can.  I like Steven Curtis Chapman's song The Miracle of the Moment.  Here's part of it.

There's only One who knows
What's really out there waiting
And all the moments yet to be
And all we need to know
Is He's out there waiting
To Him the future's history

And He has given us a treasure called right now
And this is the only moment we can do anything about

So breathe it in and breathe it out
And listen to your heartbeat
There's a wonder in the here and now
It's right there in front of you
And I don't want you to miss the miracle of the moment

And if it brings you tears
Then taste them as they fall
Let them soften your heart

And if it brings you laughter
Then throw your head back
And let it go

     God has designed life with both the bitter parts that bring us tears and the sweet parts that make us smile.  We must learn to embrace them both.  As Job said to his scornful wife, "Shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity?" (Job 2:10)

     So enjoy eating this spinach salad called Life, knowing that God has prepared it with just the right mix of "flavors" for you!

     This year, I really wanted to make an effort to help the children focus on the joy of giving over the fun of receiving.  We had a wonderful opportunity to minister to a family in need through our church.  We signed up to prepare a holiday gift basket for a family dealing with AIDS and purchase Christmas gifts for their little girl.  Despite my earnest efforts to include the children, in actuality it was a grueling (from a child's perspective) 2-hr marathon trip to Target.   The only one remotely interested in selecting gifts for the little girl  was my eldest daughter.   I was trying to get all the various items on the list I'd been given and simultaneously keep 6 energetic and obviously "not-in-school" children from becoming a spectacle.  We did pretty well until we got to the cards.  The younger ones were grabbing the ones that make sounds when you open them.  The older ones were reading the funny ones out loud and getting everyone to laugh.  I was continuously alternating between trying to put the cards back in the right spot, keep Jake from climbing up the card display to reach the ones at the top, quiet the 4-week old baby, keep Rebekah from climbing out of the shopping cart, laughing at the funny cards, and trying to steer the children clear of the inappropriate ones.  Who knew there could be so many off-color Christmas cards, of all things?  At some point, I realized that everyone who walked by us was staring, and that I had not been successful in being a non-spectacle.  Oh well!  By then, I was laughing too hard to care.

     So, phase one of our project complete, I tried to include the children's help in wrapping.  It didn't really turn out to be practical.  We had a lot of other things going on.  I wound up doing most of the wrapping myself.  I did have some "help" unwrapping though.  Once while I was doing read-alouds with the older children, I was amazed at how nicely Rebekah was playing quietly in her room.  I should've known better.  By the time it finally dawned on me that she was likely up to no good and I ought to check on her, she had already carried not just one, but two pair of scissors upstairs and had attempted to cut into the cardboard boxes of three different presents.  Fortunately, I intervened before the damage was totally irreparable.  So much for instilling the joy of giving in my 2-year-old!  Strike one.

     I decided I hadn't really accomplished my objective of getting the children excited about giving to others.  I discussed with my husband an idea I had heard about last year of having the children draw each other's names and buy for that child.  We ruled it out based on the inefficiencies of shopping individually with the children, not wanting to pressure them into "choosing" the gifts we already had in mind, and some other details.  Strike two.

     The week before Christmas, the children came home from AWANA each with a bag of small gifts.  I wasn't sure what it was all about.  I hadn't been attending AWANA since Mary Faith's birth, so I was out of the loop.  There were many other things going on, so we stuffed the bags in the top of the entry hall closet, and I forgot about them.  (We didn't put any gifts under the tree this year until the children were safely tucked in bed on Christmas Eve, on account of the Mistress of Mischief.  It was also a weak attempt to imply that "Santa" delivered them, though I'm a horrible liar/pretender and my children have never really believed the whole Santa thing.  I don't consider that a bad thing though.  I was always a Santa-skeptic as a child too.  But, I digress.)  Christmas Eve, the children excitedly asked for their bags and eagerly made tags and wrote names on gifts and placed them under the tree.  Apparently, AWANA had allowed them use the "shares"  they earn for reciting their memory verses to purchase gifts for family members.  Then, some wonderful volunteers must have spent hours wrapping and numbering everything the children ordered. 

     So, here comes my favorite part!  Christmas morning, the children excitedly exchanged the gifts they had bought for each other with their own "money".  It was wonderful to see how they picked out things they thought each person would like.  It was obvious they had put some thought into someone else's preferences.  They were very excited about seeing their siblings open the gifts they had picked out.  Several times, the receiver hugged the giver and gave genuine and unprompted thanks.  I got some scented candles from the children.  When I burn them, our home fills with a sweet fragrance the way my heart was filled on Christmas morning.  In the end, it wasn't as a result of any of my plans or efforts that the children experienced the true joy of giving.  In fact, I did absolutely nothing--that was God's gift to me.  Homerun!

I came across this poem and it really spoke to me about the joys and pleasures of sharing our lives with children.

LITTLE PEOPLE
by John Greenleaf Whittier

A dreary place would be this earth
were there no little people in it;
The Song of Life would lose it's mirth,
were there no Children in it.
No little forms, like buds to grow,
and make the admiring heart surrender;
No little hands on breast and brow,
to keep the thrilling love-chords tender.
The sterner Man would grow more stern,
unfeeling nature more inhuman,
And Man to stoic coldness turn,
and Woman would be less than woman.
Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm,
were there no babies to begin it;
A doleful place this world would be,
were there no little people in it.

In our church's Christmas musical, they used a real infant for baby Jesus.  It was amazing to me what a difference it made in the actors--a difference that could be clearly seen even from the standing-room only balcony where we were.  "Mary" bounced the baby gently and kept looking down at her (yes, "Jesus" was played by a girl baby!)  "Joseph" kept fiddling with the blanket and peeking at the baby to make sure all was well.  You could tell with every subtle move that they were holding a fragile and important treasure instead of an inanimate prop.  Yes, I must agree with the poet!  Our lives are certainly made richer by sharing them with these Little People.  What treasures we have been entrusted with.  May we always remember to "Handle With Care"!

Timothy,

You would have been one this week if you were not already in the arms of Jesus.  I want so bad to celebrate this special birthday with you, but that can never be.  I want to do something to mark this day that should have been so special.  But how?  What is appropriate?   I'd rather have a party for you and watch you smear cake all over your face, but writing my thoughts here in this blog will have to do instead.

Seeing your precious baby sister makes me wish you had the chance to be a big brother to her.  Holding her is sweeter because I didn't get to hold you.  Do you know that you're a big brother?  Do such things matter when you're in Eternity? 

We put up the Christmas tree today and hung your little ornament that says you'll be spending Christmas with Jesus.  What a wonderful Christmas that must be!  I can only imagine.

I don't often have the chance to talk about you, but I think about you everyday.  I will miss you everyday for the rest of my life.  A hole has been torn in the fabric of my life that can never be patched, not by time, not by another baby, not by anyone, or anything.  There is a hole that only you can fill and you will never be here to fill it.  My heart resonates with Mercy Me's song "Homesick".

In Christ, there are no goodbyes
And in Christ, there is no end
So I'll hold onto Jesus with all that I have
To see you again
To see you again

I long to see you again.  The next time we meet, you will be full and complete, healthy and mature.  I don't picture you as a baby in Heaven.  I can see me arriving in Heaven, and you, a grown man, run up to me and give me a big hug.  Full of excitement and with a huge smile on your face, you say, "Come on, Mom!  I've got some amazing things to show you!" And you take me by the hand and show me around.  I'll look forward to seeing you then.  In the meantime, I'll take good care of your brothers and sisters for you.  You'll love to meet them too.

I'm so blessed for having you as a part of my life, even though your time with us here was far too short.  I feel more deeply than I did before, and I take much less for granted.  I realize more than ever that life here on this Earth is not what it's all about.  I know now that the things that are really imortant and eternal are usually not seen.  I know that God will never let go of me no matter how bad things get and that nothing can snatch me from His hand.

I'll never stop loving you.  I'll never forget you. 

Happy Heavenly Birthday, my sweet son.

Love,

Mommy

     After waiting for many months, we are overjoyed to welcome the newest member of our family, Mary Faith!  She was born the day after my birthday and is the best birthday present I ever received.  I feel like this has been the longest pregnancy ever.  I know it has really been 2 separate pregnancies and Mary Faith will, in no way, ever replace Timothy, but my arms have been waiting a year and a half now to hold my baby.  I know that's nothing compared to how long others wait, and I'm very mindful of the 5 precious treasures I get to hold everyday.  I'm not complaining at all, just pointing out that I've been really ready to have this baby and get to hold her and snuggle with her and feed her and do all the mommy things I love doing.  There's so much I won't take for granted this time.  I'm looking forward to enjoying and treasuring it all.  I'm so much more aware now of how precious a gift each day is.  Many times during this pregnancy, I told God how much I just wanted the chance to hold my baby alive.  And now I am!  I'm so humbled to have this privilege.   I just stare and her and kiss her and stroke her soft hair and think about what a blessing she is.  My heart just says "Thank you, God" over and over and over. 

O Lord, children are such a tremendous blessing from You.  Forgive me for the times I've been distracted by the business of life and forgotten to treasure them as You intended.  Thank You for blessing me with 6 wonderful treasures here on earth.  Thank You for keeping Timothy safe with You until I can meet him face to face.

     I came across this quote recently and really liked it.  I just rediscovered it in my desk drawer.  I thought it was worth passing on.

"We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscience of our treasures."

--Thorton Wilder

Sometimes I'm busy or under pressure and I fail to remember my many treasures.  This reminder to focus on all the Lord has blessed us with is a needed one for me, this day, and every day.

     I've been struck recently by how quickly my children are growing up.  I'm always so busy with the day-to-day tasks.  Sometimes I remember to look up and realize what all the day-to-day stuff is really all about.  Here's just a sampling from some recent photos.

     Josh earned the Arrow of Light, graduated from Cub Scouts, and became a Boy Scout all in a span of about 10 minutes.  He's in a group with High School boys now?  My "little" first-born son with High Schoolers?  Really?  He's always the oldest at home.  Now he suddenly looks so young.

     Last weekend, I taught Abby how to use the sewing machine and she helped me sew Mary Faith's baby blanket.  Embarrassingly, she's already a much better seamstress than I.  I even ran the stitches right off the edge of the blanket once!  She needs to do a "whip stitch" to complete her sewing badge for American Heritage Girls.  I had to tell her I had no idea what that was.

     Sam has joined cub scouts now as a Tiger Cub.  He was disappointed that Josh has already moved on.  "I'm sure going to miss Josh", he lamented.  Good thing we homeschool so they're together all day!  Sam also had his birthday this week.  We got out his baby album and I told stories of when he was little.  My how time has flown!

     Jake is really enjoying school this year.  He loves to get out his books and "do school" with the older ones.  If I forget to do math with him, he reminds me.  He says math is his favorite subject after snacktime.

     Becky is always trying to keep up with everyone else.  She was quite the entertainment at Abby's Taekwondo belt graduation as she imitated everything they did.  Here's her version of pushups.

     Mary Faith is also growing quickly.  I always know we're getting close to the birth when I have to hold my breath to shave my legs.  I opted not to post the picture of Bekah kissing my big ol' stretch-mark-covered belly.  I hope you're not disappointed.

     As I see how fast the older ones grow up, I'm so thankful to still have little ones running around and on the way.  If I only had the older ones, I'd be really sad that the toddler and baby years were over.

     I love all my precious kiddos and can't imagine my life without even one of them.  I'm so blessed to have the privilege of being their mother, even though I am so unfit and inadequate for the task.  It's so good to know that our God is more than able to take care of all of us, despite our shortcomings.   I'm humbled that He trusts me with these precious Treasures of His.

  Becky + markers =

Becky + bottle of school glue = empty bottle + gluey hair, dress, and floor =

     Recently, my teaching was suddenly interrupted one day by my 4-year old informing me that the 2-year-old was being "messy".  Well, "messy" was a huge understatement!  She had gotten into the art supplies and dumped an entire bottle of black tempura paint on the hardwood floor and then proceeded to ice skate and finger paint in it, coating the window nearby and running a black hand down the edge of a brand new package of crisp white printer paper.  Often, I take a photo of my "Mistress of Mischief" before cleaning her up, but this time I was just too irritated.  I had to use a toothbrush to get the paint out of the cracks and she ruined her "I'm a Big Sister" shirt I was saving for Mary Faith's birth.  (She shouldn't have even been wearing it that day, but that's another story.)  After I got the mess cleaned up and and my blood pressure came back down, I pleaded with my artistic toddler, "Becky, why did you have to use black paint, of all colors? Couldn't you have chosen yellow or some lighter color?"  To which she replied, "Yeh-Yo?  Where is it?", and hopped up to go fetch more paint and start all over again.  I had to restrain her and reiterate that we only do artistic things on paper!

Just so you don't think she's always a mess, I wanted to include a picture of what she normally looks like.  She cleans up pretty well.  I had to clean her and her surroundings 3 times today alone.  Once for the glue (that required a complete bath), once for the markers, and once for the bottle of shampoo (fortunately, it was only travel size).  Do you think they can make clothing out of teflon?

SAM:  Mom, I figured out why God created magnets.

MOM:  (delighted that he's thinking of our science studies outside of "school")  Oh really, why is that?

SAM:  I figure He knew we'd invent paper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JOSH:  Sam, are you any good at dodgeball?  (They often play it during AWANA.)

SAM:  I'm good at the rolling the ball part, but not the dodging part.

This is my 3rd entry continuing the "humanity of the unborn" thread.

     As you are all aware, this year is an election year and come November, we have the opportunity to cast our vote for what we believe to be important.  Most of us don't hold positions of great influence, but here in America, we all get the chance to vote.  That fact adds a little urgency to my message.  That adds to the reasons I feel compelled to write.

     I've heard many in the public forum say that they support a woman's right to choose an abortion, but they would like to take steps to reduced the number of abortions that occur in America.  I can see why people would say this.  "Abortions are very common. In fact, more than 1 out of 3 women in the U.S. have an abortion by the time they are 45 years old."      ( http://www.plannedparenthood.org/health-topics/abortion-4260.htm )  However, this faulty thinking bothers me.  It sounds good, but really makes no sense at all.  If abortion is not wrong, why bother limiting or reducing it?  If it's a good thing, why place restrictions on it?  If it's wrong, why tolerate it all?  Essentially, when I hear someone say that I think one of two things.  Either they suspect it's wrong, but are too cowardly to upset the status quo, or they're simply trying to appease people on both sides and therefore not really standing up for anything.

     We are studying American History, part 2 this year and are just getting into the start of the Civil War.  We just finished reading an excellent book on William Wilberforce, the man credited with pursuing (for 45 years) and winning the abolition of slavery in England through politics rather than war.  For years, there were efforts avoid the abolition of slavery by merely limiting it instead.  People and politicians were unwilling to let go of what was culturally and financially comfortable, no matter how despicable and inhumane that practice was.   On April 2, 1792, Wilberforce presented a speech to Parliament and again moved to abolish the Slave Trade.  One of the senior members responded that he agreed with Wilberforce's goals, but they should achieve those goals by regulating, not abolishing the trade.  He proposed to breed rather than capture slaves, educate their children, and improve living conditions.  He appealed to the moderates to avoid extremes of abolishing slavery altogether, or allowing it continue as it was.  Instead, he proposed the moderate thing to do was to allow slavery to continue, but regulate it more closely.  (Sound familiar?)  George Fox was outraged and gave this reply, "The idea of 'moderation' in the Slave Trade, reminds me of Middleton's comment:  'To break open a man's house and kill him, his wife, and his family in the night is certainly a heinous crime, but even this may be done with moderation,' . . . 'Moderation' in atrocity, in robbery and murder, in the pillage and destruction of a country!  The real question is not whether that execrable [hateful, cursed] Trade requires regulation, but whether it is fit to be continued at all!"  And what about America?  What about now?  How long will we quibble over regulating how and when murder ought to be allowed, before we are finally disgusted with the whole evil practice and abolish it altogether?      (information for this paragraph taken from William Wilberforce:  God's Politician, by John Holzmann, 1997; can be purchased from https://www.sonlight.com/4H35.html )

     I was quite surprised to hear one of our presidential candidates respond to a question about abortion by saying the issue was above his pay-grade.  On one hand, that's the most pathetic excuse for a straight answer from someone hoping to become the next leader of the free world many have ever heard.  On the other hand, he's absolutely right!  The decision of who should live and who should die is above our pay-grade.  The decision belongs to God alone and He is clear.  Make no mistake, God is not indifferent on the issue of abortion.  He cares and He's already told us what He thinks.  Several Scriptures reference the fact that unborn babies are humans too; known, loved and treasured by God.  One of my personal favorites is Psalm 139:13-16.

 13 For you created my inmost being;
       you knit me together in my mother's womb.

 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
       your works are wonderful,
       I know that full well.

 15 My frame was not hidden from you
       when I was made in the secret place.
       When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

 16 your eyes saw my unformed body.
       All the days ordained for me
       were written in your book
       before one of them came to be.

There is also Jeremiah 1:4-5.

4 The word of the LORD came to me [Jeremiah], saying,

 5 "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
       before you were born I set you apart;
       I appointed you as a prophet to the nations."

Not only did God know Jeremiah in his mother's womb, but He already had is future career picked out for him as well. 

     In addition to naming unborn babies as persons, God has also told us that murder is wrong.  The Ten Commandments are an obvious reference here.  Prior to that, in Genesis 9:6, God condemns the shedding of innocent blood because humans are made in the image of God.  So, if a person is going to admit that a decision is above his pay-grade, shouldn't he should at least agree with what that higher pay-grade has said?

     In my way of thinking, few, if any, issues in American politics today are more important than what we decide about the issue of abortion.  Let me give an example.  Here's a hypothetical election that never historically took place, except in my imagination.  (Don't look for parallels with current candidates, because they aren't there.)  Suppose we are approaching an election during Nazi Germany, and we have a choice: 

1.   One of the candidates is not well-spoken, and some question his experience.  I don't agree with his tax policy or health care and his lack of concern for our environment concerns me.  But . . . he promises to do all he can to get rid of the inhumane concentration camps. 

2.  On the other side, Hitler is the other candidate running for office.  He's energetic and a smooth-talker.  He's got a great energy plan and wants to cut taxes.  But . . . he will continue to select certain individuals he deems unworthy of being treated as humans (due to age or "defect" or inconvenience to society) and torture and kill them. 

     Who would you choose?  Would you think to yourself, "Well, I want lower gas prices and taxes and better health care and environment, so I'll just overlook the messy concentration camp business?"  It's so easy for us to sit here now and judge people from another country and another time and condemn them for allowing such atrocities to go on in their own neighborhoods.  But yet, we are doing the very same thing!!  It's not Jewish people who are victims this time.  It's children who haven't even been born yet and their mothers.  But the principle is the same!  Who are we to select certain individuals and decide whether they're worthy to live or not?

     My eldest daughter was born with a cleft palate.  I have so often been grieved to hear of parents who chose to abort a child because of a cleft or some similar "defect".  We're not talking about some nameless, faceless child somewhere out there.  We're talking about my Abby here!  Think of what blessings I would have missed out on!  How foolish to throw away the gift because the paper it was wrapped in was different than you expected.  In my current pregnancy, a blood test (known for being inaccurate) indicated a slightly higher risk for Trisomy 18 and I was offered an amnio to "know for certain" if the baby had unusual genes so that I could make a decision about "interrupting the pregnancy."  Notice the slick terminology attempting to hide what is really being suggested.  It disgusts me.  I informed my doctor that I would rather gain peace from God (the only One who can give it), instead of from a faulty medical test.  When he apologized for not being able to guarantee me a healthy baby, I told him we have no guarantees.  Even babies who are born totally healthy may suffer disease or injury at anytime in their lives.  That doesn't mean we throw the child away because we don't feel strong enough to deal with it. 

     A lady came to our house last weekend to encourage support for a particular presidential candidate.  My husband kindly informed her that "we vote pro-life'.  Her response was that abortion wasn't a big issue this year and she was glad that we, as a country, have "gotten past that".  I couldn't disagree more.  It's a huge issue and we will never get past it until we do away with it.  I don't want to get past it until we get it right.  Regardless of what other issues are at stake, I just can't in good conscience vote for someone who thinks that killing babies is okay or should be left to the mother's discretion.

     So What about you?  Do you believe that my Timothy was a real person, due the same rights as any other American?  Or do you just feel sorry for me, grieving so hard over the loss of the equivalent of a tumor?  Will your beliefs influence how you live and the way you vote?  Or will you pat me on the back and say you believe he was human and then turn around and cast your vote for more children like him to have life snatched from them?    As I said earlier.  God is not indifferent.  Our country won't be allowed to get away with such a blatant disregard for God's created life forever.  At some point, we must change or He may bring about change for us in ways we probably won't like.  Someday, we will all stand before God Himself and then our excuses for why we failed to step in and protect the littlest ones will suddenly seem very insignificant to us. 

     This is all I have to say on this topic for now.  After quenching these thoughts for several months, I've finally mustered the courage to lay it all out.  If you've stuck with me through all three posts, thanks for listening and considering what I've said.  The pressure within me has been released and I now feel free to discuss other topics again.  Whether you agree with me or not, it is my hope that you are aware that the God who created this universe loves you more than you will ever know.

     This is the second installment of my "humanity of the unborn" blog. 

     I am continually amazed at the number of people and politicians I hear go on about how preventing abortion is equivalent to violating women's rights to make decisions regarding her own body.  First of all, the issue has nothing to do with her body.  It's her baby's body (and therefore his/her very life), that concerns me.  Secondly, she already exercised her right to do whatever she wants with her own body when she engaged in actions to become pregnant in the first place. (Rape is the obvious exception here, which accounts for only 1% of all abortions in the U.S.  The overwhelming majority of abortions, as much as 95%, are for "birth control".)  What she is actually trying to do is remove unwanted consequences of her freedoms she already exercised.

     That being said, the main reason why this whole "women's right" thing concerns me is because they've got it all backwards.  They tell women this a liberating action when it is actually an enslaving action.  Abortion is not good for the woman, but she is lied to and not given the truth; and that is where the real violation of her rights takes place.  Just as there are physical laws that govern our universe, there are spiritual laws as well.  If I tried to live my life as though gravity had no effect on me, I would lead a foolish life and be hurt an awful lot.  When we try to live as though God's laws are just suggestions for a few people and don't really apply to us, we live foolish lives and get hurt a lot.  Legal or not, no mother can kill her own child and get away with it forever.  I've read stories of poor desperate women who are haunted and tormented for years and even decades following an abortion.  How many women do you think are told that as one of the potential "side effects" or "complications" of having an abortion.  It wasn't listed on the Planned Parenthood website I checked out.

     I reviewed several sources to find out the number of abortions since Roe v. Wade.  No one has an exact figure, all are estimations and there are probably many unreported cases as well.  I found sources citing >46 million, >48 million, and >52 million.  I'll do like they do in the Olympics and throw out the high and the low.  Let's say there have been 48 million babies aborted since 1973.  As awful as that is, we need to double it.  The casualties are doubled because the mother is a victim too.  She's been lied to and because she was young or scared or immature or had few resources or just didn't know any better--she bought the lie.  And the untold story is that she will be paying for believing that lie for a very long time.

     Considering how common abortion is, I realize it's very likely that there's a woman reading this right now who has had an abortion.  I'd like to speak to you now.  My goal here is not to judge or condemn anyone.  I haven't walked a mile in your shoes, and I know nothing of your particular situation.  What I do know is that we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.  We have all made poor choices, taken wrong turns, faltered and stumbled, and been mislead down wayward paths.  We are all in need of abundant grace.  Whatever our troubles, or difficulties, or frailties may be, there is only one answer.  Help, healing, and guidance can only be found in Jesus and His mercy is more than enough to take care of our needs and shortcomings.  He alone can heal our wounds.  He knows that we are but dust.  He came not to condemn us, but to save us.  And that's not just Christianese mumbo jumbo.  That's what Truth really is.

     My situation is somewhat different than what we are talking about here.  I wanted my baby and didn't have an abortion.  However, since the cause of Timothy's death was never determined, I have had ample opportunity to blame myself, wonder if I accidentally caused his death, and receive comments from others with similar wonderings.  Even though I had no intention of causing my son's death, I've still had to take my own haunting thoughts and tormenting emotions to the only One who can calm the storm in me.  I know He can bring healing where no one and nothing else can.

     Criticizing and judging the women involved in these desperate life and death decisions in not helpful at all.  We need to reach out to women who are faced with a situation that is too big for them to handle alone.  We need to come along side them with practical, physical, emotional, and spiritual help.  Having babies is challenging, raising babies is hard work, relinquishing a child for adoption is difficult.  There are no easy answers, women need our help--not our condemnation, and certainly not our lies.  We don't need to attack abortion clinics.  We need to give women baby showers, a place to stay, medical help, adoption assistance, birth preparation, parent training, or whatever they need to choose life for their babies and cause the abortion clinics to become obsolete.

     I want to reiterate what I said in my last post.  This really isn't what I want to be talking about, but I can't remain silent any longer.  I am somewhat relieved to know that no one is under any obligation to read anything I write.  If I've expressed myself poorly and been offensive, you are free to read something else.  I believe that God is asking me to write this for a reason and there must be someone out there who needs to hear it.  I pray that God will lead that person here at just the right time.  I have one more post to write on this topic, and then I'll move on.  Thanks for listening to my heart.

     Hello again!  I've been "gone" for a while, but I'm back now and this one will be nice and long.  So grab your tea, coffee, water, chocolate milk or whatever and have a seat!

     I apologize for my long absence.  Several factors have contributed to this.  First, it's been a very busy summer!  We had a full summer of great activities and we just started back to school 3 weeks ago.  I'm wanting to get a head start on school in case I need to take some time off when the baby comes.  As I wrote to one reader who inquired about my lack of blogging lately, "In addition to teaching full-time, I am also running a restaurant, a cleaning service, and a laundromat, nurturing a baby, and trying to keep up with the Olympics!  (I always find them so inspiring as I run my own race for a crown that will not fade or tarnish.)  As a result, my blog writing has suffered and faltered.  I haven't had time to think of anything worthwhile to say!" 

     But there's a second factor that's even more significant.  Several months ago, my heart was burning to express some thoughts I've been having lately.  Instead of writing, I squelched it.  I didn't want this blog to become controversial.  I have always desired it to be encouraging and uplifting.  However, since suppressing what I really wanted to write about, I haven't been inspired to write about anything else either.  I've come to realize that God wants me to share what's on my heart and He's not going to let me move on until I do the next thing in front of me. 

     I have been greatly encouraged by a song that is currently on the radio.  It's "You've Got Something to Say" by Matthew West.  Ironically, or rather, in God's providence, he wrote this song then lost his voice for 2 months and was unable to sing or even say anything.  He communicated to his family with a grease board.  Here are the lyrics:

Wake up, 7:32 AM
Can’t believe it’s time to do it over again
Yesterday, it took all that you had
And you’re wondering if you’ll ever get it back
But the whole wide world is waiting for
Waiting for you to step out that door
Come on, and let your life be heard today

You’ve got something to say
If you’re living, if you’re breathing
You’ve got something to say
You know if you’re heart is beating
You’ve got something to say
And no one can say it like you do
God is love and love speaks through
You got it, you got it
You’ve got something to say

Listen up, I got a question here
Would anybody miss you if you disappeared?
Well your life is the song that you sing
And the whole wide world is listening
Well the answer to the question is
You were created, your life is a gift
And the lights are shining on you today

  You can listen to the song on Matthew West's My Space page here:   ( http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=18251674  )

     So, I've got something to say and it my desire that you hear God's love speak through me as I tackle a task that's very difficult for me:  to express how I really feel, knowing there are many out there who feel a different way just as strongly.  My goal is not to stir up division or point any fingers.  I've simply come to a place where I can no longer remain silent.  I feel like I have to say it or blow up inside.  God has told us there is a time for everything; a time to be silent and a time to speak.  I believe this is my time to speak.

     I have always believed that a person's life begins when God breathes spirit into flesh and I believe this takes place at conception.  In some people's view, life doesn't begin until that life is viable apart from the mother's.  As medical technology and knowledge increase, that point is getting pushed further and further back.  Today, many premature infants survive and thrive who would have not been able to live had they been born 50, 20, or even 10 years ago.  Is it really possible that our humanity can be determined by the current state of technology?  What about places in the world where they don't have access to such technology?  Do their children become human later than ours here in the U.S?  This way of thinking of human life in terms of viability clearly makes no sense. 

     I believe that abortion is on a collision course with reality.  In 1973, when abortion became legal, ultrasounds were rare.  Now, a woman can see with her own eyes a tiny heart beating almost as soon as she knows she's pregnant.  The heart begins to beat at 5 weeks.  The first 2 weeks of pregnancy are counted from the last period to ovulation when conception has not even occurred yet.  The second 2 weeks of pregnancy are counted as the time from ovulation to when the next period is expected.  So when a woman misses her period and takes a test, she's already considered 4 weeks pregnant.  The heart begins to beat the very next week.  When you see your baby on the ultrasound and hear the heartbeat, it's very hard to deny the child's humanness.

     As I said, I've always believed these things intellectually, but since Timothy came into my life, my intellect is now ignited with a passionate fire in my heart that I can not subdue.  My little boy died at 14 weeks gestation.  His body was unexpectedly born at home.  I held his tiny, perfect frame.  I saw 10 miniature fingers and 10 miniature toes.  I could make out his ribs.  His ears were beginning to form.  I saw his tiny eyes behind fused eyelids.  Immediately, I could tell he was a boy.  No one will ever be able to convince me that he was only a blob of tissue.  I know beyond any shadow of any doubt that though he was small and young, he was fully human in every way.

     Medical staff repeatedly referred to my son's body as the "Products of Conception."  They were not allowed or afraid to use the words "baby", "child", "son"--the very words my heart ached to hear.   I was not allowed to have a death certificate or a funeral because he was less than 20 weeks old.  The hospital scattered his ashes in their memorial garden and made it clear I was not invited to the service.  I was also told it would not be an overtly Christian service because people of many faiths had children die at that hospital.  Even among fellow Christian friends who are pro-life and believe life begins at conception, I have been treated more like someone who had minor injury than a mother whose son has died.  All this because my son was 6 weeks short of the arbitrary 20-week marker when the medical community considers him human.  There is nothing magical or significant about becoming 20 weeks old, but because "that woman over there" has to have her right to choose, I have been denied my right to grieve. 

     Our culture today does not recognize the humanity of young, unborn babies.  The closer the baby is to term, the more likely it is that others will consider him/her fully human (for example,  the case of a 9-month pregnant mother being murdered and her attacker being charged with 2 counts of murder)  The younger the child, the less s/he is considered human by our culture today (as evidenced by well-meaning but wrong people who tried to console me that at least I wasn't further along when he died).  The refusal to acknowledge the littlest lives and the practice of abortion are inexorably entwined.  We failed to value early human life and so we allowed the practice of legal abortion.   Even though we ought to know better by now, our culture still refuses to accept the humanity of our youngest members so that we can continue to allow the option of abortion when someone isn't happy with the consequences of her actions.  The lie has become entrenched and now it's harder to face the truth because we've become comfortable living with the lie.  All human life should be protected and nurtured no matter how small, how young (or old), or how frail.  That is the truth.  Let's shed the lie.

     I don't share all this with you to "vent" or to seek pity.  In fact, it's very difficult to share this, and I don't really want to.    I share it because I believe Timothy's story needs to be told.  People need to know the truth.  I believe in God and I know He makes no mistakes.  I don't believe my little boy's life was all in vain.  If his short life can convince even one person of the humanity of our youngest children, then all I've suffered is worth it.  Perhaps Timothy can teach us from beyond the grave that "A person's a person, no matter how small."

      Our country was founded on the belief that "All men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."  Over time, people's understanding of this declaration has been stretched to include African-Americans and women.  The time has come to extend the invitation to our unborn children and guarantee their right to life and liberty as well.

     I have more to share with you on this topic, but this post is already long enough.  If you are interested, you can check back for two more posts on this topic: one on true women's rights and one tying this in with the current election.  Thanks for listening and thinking about what I've shared.  These aren't easy things for me to share, but I've come to the point where keeping it to myself is no longer an option.

This news is a little old.  It took me a while to get the picture to go with the post.  Her hair has actually grown out some already!

    Abby just got her hair cut off again.  She cut off 10" a year ago and sent them to Locks of Love.  This year, to get the full 10", she had to go even shorter.  It looks really cute.  Lock of Love takes hair donations and makes wigs for children who have lost their hair due to illness or treatments.  After doing it last year, Abby decided she wanted to be a human "hair farm".  She grows her hair until she has 10" and we can't stand the tangle anymore and then we whack it off, send it in, and start again.  Her hair grows fairly quickly so she's a good candidate for it.

     Sam's question at the beauty shop was, "Why when girls hair get to be 10 inches, they have to cut it off?  Why's that?"

http://www.locksoflove.org/