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/

    Today marks one year since our precious Timothy went to be with Jesus.  I'm not sure what to call this day.  It's not a birthday.  It's not even a death-day.  He probably passed away days before he was stillborn.  His little heart was beating strongly at his last checkup.  "Anniversary" doesn't sound quite right.  I toyed with the idea of "Promotion Day" or "Graduation Day" to acknowledge that he is not truly dead, but his life continues on in Eternity.  Josh suggested "Moving Day", since he moved to Heaven.  I've heard some refer to such a day as an "Angelversary".  I like the sound of it, but I don't want to mislead the children.  Unlike the cartoons I watched as a child, I know Timothy has not nor will he ever become an angel.

     Whatever you want to call the day, I felt compelled to acknowledge it  in someway.  Without protocol or tradition to guide me, I was a little lost for what to do.  We considered planting a tree, but our small yard is full of large trees.  I couldn't find a spot for one.  Plus, this place is only temporary and we are renting.  In the end, we decided to make donation to our local pregnancy crisis center.  I called and got a list of what items they needed, then the children and I went shopping.  I let them each choose an outfit, which was fun because they could pick whatever gender or size caught their fancy since we weren't buying for any particular baby.  It feels right to use this opportunity to help others.  The center is closed today, so we will deliver the items tomorrow or on Saturday.  We also looked at Timmy's scrapbook, sang his hymn (I'd Rather Have Jesus), and ate angelfood cake in memory of him.

   Other than these few things, the day was very, . . . well . . . normal; filled with homeschool and soccer, laundry and diaper changes.  Looking ahead to this time and wondering how I'd feel today, I swung back and forth between wanting to spend the day in self-pity and despair and wanting to highlight the positive and recognize how far I've come in a year, and celebrate Timothy's life in Heaven.  In the end, I realized yesterday that I didn't want to be depressed and that I'm not obligated to, just because the calendar reads a certain date.  It doesn't mean I love him any less if I choose not to despair this day.  I will always miss him.  There will always be a hole.  But right now, I want to focus on all that I have and all God has blessed me with instead of dwelling on what I wish I had.  God has blessed us so abundantly, the only thing that feels right is to thank and praise Him.

    My alarm went off this morning and the radio was playing Praise You in This Storm by Casting Crowns.  This was my song during my grief.  My sister introduced me to it the day after we lost Timmy and I even did a worship dance to it at my church.  The last song the radio played before I turned it off to read my Bible and begin my day was Who Am I by Point of Grace.  This has been a recent favorite of mine as I find peace in ceasing my questions and resting and trusting in Jesus.  I'm not capable of understanding His higher ways.  My only job is to give Him praise, not to figure Him out or explain Him to others.  Since the words to the song are so thought-provoking and since Point of Grace has two different songs by the same name, I include the lyrics for you here in case you're not familiar with the song.  I highly recommend you download this one or buy the CD!

Who Am I

(Terri Fritsch, Marshall Hall, Sam Mizell)

I've tried to wrap my mind around the thought of you
I stretched myself so far I nearly come unglued
You hold the universe inside your hands
Still you thought of me
I can't believe

Is there no limit to your love for me
As shallow as this selfish heart can be
You are the maker of reality
And I stand in awe
You are God

Chorus
Who am I
To understand your ways
Who am I
To give you anything but praise
Who am I
To try and solve the mystery
Behind the heart and soul of all that I believe
Who am I

You're every reason for my heart to hope
Creator of the dreams I've yet to know
You are the river for my thirsty soul
You are my desire
You are God

Chorus

I am your child
I will follow, who am I?
You gave your life
For my tomorrow

Chorus

     God's perspective is so different from my own.  I couldn't sense His perspective at all when the pain was so raw and the desire to give into self-pity was so strong.  But time, distance, reflection, and meditation on His Word have helped me to gain a tiny glimpse of how it all seems from His point of view.  I've seen a picture of life being a little like a game of Trouble.  As a parent, it's my desire to lead all my children safely around the board to "Home".  Timothy is already "Home Safe".  He can't get bumped about by the storms of life or sent back to start over.   I'm still shepherding my other children around the the board, hoping they don't encounter too much "trouble" on their journey.  But Timothy's future is secure.  Meanwhile, TNT is hoping to roll a 1 or 7 to "get out" and play the game of life!

   I got another peak into God's perspective a couple of weeks ago when I bumped into a fellow homeschool mom from church while running errands.  I told her I was expecting.  She asked about the ages and genders of our other children, trying to find a pattern to see if she could guess what this one's gender would be.  I told her about Timmy saying, "I have have a bonus son in Heaven."  I immediately thought that was a strange thing to say.  I had certainly never thought that before.  As the day went on, I thought about it  more and more and realized how true it is.  I've wasted too much time this past year focused on what I felt I'd lost, on what I'd thought had been robbed from me.  In that chance meeting in Target (no, ordained meeting) I became aware that I haven't really lost anything!  I know where Timmy is.  And he's safe and secure and happy.  He's better off than we are.  And I did nothing to get him there or secure that for him.  All that he needs has already been accomplished by Jesus.  One thing I grieved about is not being able to do anything for this precious son of mine.  Being a mom is alot about being a servant to others' needs.  But what more could I add to what Jesus has already done for him?  I very much like to think of Timothy as my bonus son rather than my lost son.  Lost is one thing he is certainly not and never will be.

    It's also a comfort and joy to be facing this day with another Tiny New Treasure growing in the secret place.  I'm so grateful for a second chance, and while there are few guarantees in life, I intend to enjoy everyday I have with this little one, be they few or many.  Every life is a treasure to God--even the unborn ones we can't see everyday.

     I am so grateful that God urged me to choose thankfulness this day rather than pity.  As it closes, I can say it has truly been a good day.  And only God can make it so.

God of All Comfort by Bill Gray

     Tiny New Treasure (or TNT, as we like to call him/her) had another checkup yesterday.  We are 16 weeks along and all is well so far.  It took her a while to find the heartbeat, which made me anxious, but she eventually found it.  What beautiful music! 

     We have the ultrasound in two weeks.  I can't wait to see him/her and choose a more permanent name than "TNT".  I have always been completely wrong about what gender the baby would be.  (I guess my "woman's intuition" is broken.)  This time around I was sure he was a boy at first, now I feel she's a girl.  So do I go with the opposite of my first intuition or my second?  I guess I'll be sure to be wrong (or right) no matter what, depending on how you look at it!

   Abby is definitely wanting another sister.  I'm trying to prep her so she won't be disappointed.  She cried at Jake's sonogram when they told us he was a boy.  Jake thinks we should have a boy because, "We've never had any boy babies before."  I laughed and told him we had three!  He just doesn't remember any of them.  Rebekah is the only baby he remembers.  Jake told me the other day he wants to name the baby Thomas.  I said we can't do that because it's his middle name and it's already taken.  He said, "Well, you can just call me Noah then."  Where does he get this stuff?

   I'm already working on plans to rearrange rooms, move Bekah to the big girl bed, and begin the potty training in earnest for her this summer.  I've already got the nesting bug bad.  I'm sort of a natural "nester" anyway, but something about being pregnant really kicks me into gear!

Note:  I wrote this post a month ago, but just now got around to actually posting it.

Mouse Traps

We had a mouse seeking shelter from the winter weather in our house once.  My husband caught it and "took care" of it.  He thought he heard another one sneaking around at night, so he asked me to pick up some more traps on errand day last week.  While we were in the PX, I discreetly asked my oldest son to remind me to look for traps when we got to the commissary.  Then Jaked piped up, "We already have some mouse traps at home, Mommy!"  There is nothing about Jake that is quiet or discreet.  Excited, and not quiet either, Sam asked, "Mommy, how many mice have we caught so far?"  I was overly concerned what others in the PX might be thinking of me and what kind of home I was running.  We quickly ducked down a less crowded isle and changed the subject.  Remind me not to bring up mouse traps in public again!

Decade of Motherhood

  Last week at the gym, I picked up a magazine to read while riding the bike.  It was an update on the McCaughey septuplets.  They were born just before our first son was, so I always used to follow what they were doing.  I felt so inadequate when she was sewing homemade clothes for her newborns and I was completely overwhelmed with only one!  Anyway, the magazine said "pictures from their first decade", and when I read that it hit me.  Now that our oldest has turned 10 and entered the double digits, I have been a mother for a whole decade!  Can it really be that long?  I certainly don't feel that old!  At least I'm more experienced now.  I can't believe how overwhelmed I was with one tiny baby, how afraid I was to take him home from the hospital because I wouldn't have nurses nearby around the clock.  How easy one newborn would be to me now!  Sometimes people wonder at how I do things with "so many" children, but keep in mind, I got them one at a time and I've grown as they have.  Wow!  A whole decade!  And what a great decade it's been!  I wouldn't trade it for anything!

Name Game

     Abby has been experimenting with her name recently.  She has told several people her name is Grace.  I think it's so funny that after struggling a lifetime with going by our middle names, both my husband and I determined not to call our children by their middle names, and now she wants to!  I don't really mind.  Considering when she was 3 she wanted me to change her name to "Sparkle", I think Grace is just fine.  After listening to Joel and I discuss it with her, Jake informed me the next day that he wanted to go by his full name.  Thankfully, he forgot about that wish soon.  Jake is so much easier to say!

Overheard in our living room today.

MOM: (noticing pencil marks on the hardwood floor)  Rebekah, did you draw on the floor?

REBEKAH:  (innocently) No.

MOM:  Then who did?  (She was the only one in the room at the time.)

REBEKAH:  (looking around for the culprit and finding a pencil on the floor)  'Dat . . . from . . . color.

MOM:  Well, who was holding the "color" when it drew on the floor?

REBEKAH:  Ummm . . . Becky!  (with another innocent grin)

Yes, even two-year olds are skilled at shifting the blame to someone else!

Applying the Constitutional Convention to Daily Life

     A couple of weeks ago, the children were playing one of their imaginitive games.  When I called them to the table for lunch, Sam was in tears.  "Josh isn't playing fair!  He has all the powers!"

     Josh's cryptic explanation was, "I think he's mad because I had the idea of cutting down the tree and building a bridge."

     Sam immediately shot back, "No! I'm mad because you can use turtle shell and knock down my walls!"

   "Oh dear!"  I thought.  "How can I mediate this one?  I don't even have a clue what they're talking about!"  Then, the light bulb came on as I remembered our morning's lesson on the Constitutional Convention.  I reminded them what our founding father's did and how everyone got "a half loaf".  Everybody got something they wanted, but nobody got everything they wanted.  I encouraged them to use that same idea to guide them as they worked out this problem.

     It worked better than I could have imagined!  Immediately, tears were dried and an energetic and friendly discussion began on how to make the imaginary game more fair.  Abby and Jake also got involved in offering suggestions.  I didn't understand any of the suggestions, nor the final outcome, but they were all satisfied with their "half a loaf".  Now, if only I could get my "light bulb" to work more often!

Jake's comment to me as I was tucking him in one night:

"Mommy, these three things are most important:  reading the Bible, hugs & smootches, being polite to others."

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

He's delighted to be learning to read.  Daddy does a lesson or two with him each night and Jake enjoys telling me all about it.  "I learned a new letter," he bragged.  "It's 'A' [long A sound], but it looks a lot like 'a' [short a sound]."  I explained that it was the same letter, but 2 different sounds and that there are some letters who make more than one sound.

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

An excited dicovery:  "Mommy!  That's the same thing!  East . . .  Easter . . . Easter play!!!!"

What fun to watch his little wheels turn!

     After studying the Declaration of Independence and memorizing the first two paragraphs, the children came up with the idea of writing their own Declaration.  It was all their own idea and they went off in secret to do it.  Sam even asked if they could nail the window shut in our house.  I said no.  My son, who abhors writing, offered to be the scribe and they even drew a flag to go with it.  Here's the unedited text of their declaration:

In the kitchen, March 7, 2008, the declaration of the United Kids of the M. family

     We hold these truths to be self evedent that children shold obey there parents, for the parents are in charge of them.  However, children do have rights, and among these are fun, learning, and love.  But if any adults become disructive of these rights, then it is the right of the children to alter it.

If only all homeschool assignments went this well and were this much fun!

These are a collection of thoughts I've had as I've reflected on the events of Jesus' death and resurrection.  I feel wholly inadequate to communicate the truths about God I have been contemplating, but I submit these to you to get your own wheels turning about how great is the Lord's love for you.

Two Different Criminals

     The story of the two criminals crucified with Jesus as described in Luke 23 is like a nutshell version of the gospel.  Two criminals hung there:  both guilty, both condemned to die, both insulted God's Son to his face.  Yet one had a change of heart.  One admitted his own guilt and acknowledged Jesus' innocence.  He repented.  He asked Jesus to remember him.

     There are two things I find interesting about this story.  First, Jesus only told one of them he would be in Paradise that day.  He made no such promise to the unrepentant one.  Yes, God extends His mercy to everyone, but only those who embrace it have it in the end.  To say that we all go to Heaven regardless of our attitude toward Jesus is to cast aside what the Scripture clearly says.

     Secondly, the criminal found his way to Paradise by no merit of his own.  He repented in the last few hours of his life as he was dying on a cross.  It was too late by then for any good works.  He had already passed up his opportunity for that.  There was nothing he had done that he could boast about.  Truly, there is nothing any of us has done that we can boast about.  We are all condemned for our sin.  Our "righteousness" is as filthy rags compared to God's standards.  Again, to say that those whose good deeds outweigh their bad are the ones allowed entrance into Heaven is to ignore what Jesus said.

Between the Cross and the Empty Tomb

  What crushing despair the disciples and followers of Jesus must have felt on Friday and Saturday!  They thought He was the One to save and rescue them.  They had put their hope and trust in Him.  And now this!  How could this happen?  It wasn't supposed to end like this.  They gave up everything to follow him and this it how it all turned out?  All their hopes dashed to pieces.  All their dreams for the future now unable to be fulfilled as they had imagined.  What was God doing?  Had they believed a lie?  Did they wonder, as John the Baptist did awaiting his death, was Jesus the One they had been waiting for, or should they look for another?  Had they been deceived in following Him? 

   Have you ever felt a similar despair when you follow Jesus and things don't turn out like you thought they would?  In fact, things are much worse off than before you decided to obey Him.  Have you ever wondered if it was folly to put all your hope in Jesus?  I have.  Sometimes, God makes absolutely no sense to us.  He has awesome wonderful plans for each of our lives, but we are so small and so finite and so lacking in understanding that we can't even begin to comprehend what He could possibly be up to.  As I told my aunt a few months before she passed away, "If I could figure God out, He wouldn't really be much of a God, would He?"

   1 Corinthians 1:25 says, "For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength."  I like how The Message renders it, "Human wisdom is so tinny, so impotent, next to the seeming absurdity of God.  Human strength can't begin to compete with God's 'weakness'."  Yes, our wisdom, our ability to discern what God is doing is impotent.  We can not figure Him out, and so to us, His plans sometimes seem absurd, and we are tempted to doubt.

     What we are unable to imagine is the Sunday morning when the stone is rolled away and the Messiah rises to a whole new kind of life.  Jesus even told them all that would happen, but they forgot.  Jesus' enemies didn't though.  They put guards at the tomb because they remembered he had said he would rise from the dead.   

     If you are in that place where you have witnessed the death of  the hopes you hold most dear, and you're wondering where God is in all of this; I would encourage you to hold on until God reveals the empty tomb.  His perfect timing does not cater to our wishes, we must wait for it.  Often, we have to wait much longer than 3 days.   Sometimes, we have to wait years.  Living between the cross and the empty tomb is painful and difficult, but Sunday always comes at just the right time. 

     Many of you know Nicole Nordeman is my favorite artist.  My current favorite song of hers is "Sunrise".   It speaks of God being our Sunrise after a long, dark night.  I couldn't figure out how to embed the video into my blog, but here's the link.  It's a beautiful song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7F--hYTDXFk

Raised to a New Life

     We watched our church's Easter pageant this past Friday night.  There was a scene of Jesus healing several people while someone sang "There is Power in the Name of the Lord" (I think it's a Sandi Patti song).  The climax was when a mother and father brought their lifeless daughter to Jesus and He restored life to her limp body.  I couldn't help but cry as I realized that's what Jesus has done for my Timmy.  He wasn't raised to physical life on this earth, but I've no doubt that he is alive right now with Jesus.  Timothy's Easter celebration will be much better than mine because He is experiencing that eternal resurrection life right now.

     We weren't created to die.  God wanted us to live forever.  Sin is what mars our existence.  Deep inside, we know it isn't right.  We long for something better, something good, something permanent.  God wants us to long for these things, because He is the only One who can give them to us.  When we seek to find the way our lives are meant to be, we must run to God.  How grateful I am that He has made a way for us, in spite of ourselves.  In spite of the crimes we've committed, the insults we've hurled at Him, the doubts we've clung to as we wait desperately between the cross and the empty tomb . . . in spite of all this, He extends to us mercy and a New Life.  This is what it's all about.

Christ is risen!
He is risen, indeed!

     One evening, I was trying to "bless my house" as flylady puts it and clean up a bit.  I had about 15 minutes until dinner, so I got out my timer and my dusting equipment.  Rebekah (aka "The Mistress of Mischeif") can make messes faster than I can clean them up, so I decided I'd better carry her on my back while I worked.  Upbeat music is always motivating, so I tossed my ipod into my cleaning apron and put in the earphones.

     Thus equipped, I began to dust energetically, trying to beat the 15 minute timer.  Soon, there was a knock at the door.  I took out one earphone and ran to the door.  My neighbor had dropped by to drop something off.  When I opened the door, her jaw dropped.  I realized my appearance had shocked her. 

     "I'm just cleaning up a bit," I tried to explain.

     "I can see that," came her laughing reply.  We chatted for a bit and then we were interrupted by my 15 minute timer going off.  I reached into my apron and shut it off. 

     "Well, my dusting time is over.  Time to finish up dinner, " I said, offering an explanation for the timer.  About that time, hubby came home and saw our dumbfounded neighbor and my strange appearance.  He told her I was like this because I was organized.

     "I wish I had a photo of this!" she said as she walked away.  I thought you might enjoy a chuckle too, so I had Josh take my picture after she left.   Here's a "snapshot of my life".

     I originally wrote this blog about a month ago, but life's events overtook me and I didn't get the photo to go with it downloaded until today.  Hope you enjoy it, even though the news is a little stale!

      Last weekend was the cub scout Pinewood Derby.  For the unindoctrinated, it is the time of year when fathers and cub scouts work together to make a race car out of a block of wood and four plastic tires, and then all the pack comes together to see which cars make it down the track and which ones don't.  After doing most of the work for the past couple of years, Joel decided Josh should be responsible for building his own car this year.  Josh got a book at the scout store about how to build a fast car.  He skimmed it one night, then rapidly painted the car and put the wheels on.  When Joel awoke the next morning, there was the car--finished except for the weights and a few touchups. 

     As the race drew nearer, we parents began to squirm a bit.  Josh's car was obviously painted and constructed by a child and not by the parent.  Would we be embarrassed by our son's work on race day when he competed against all the other cars where the dad clearly did the building and painting?  "Why didn't you help him more?", I scolded my husband.  "He still needs your oversight and guidance."  Joel pointed out that Josh finished the car in one evening before he had a chance to offer input.  So Josh fixed the smudges of paint on his car and Joel helped him screw the weights onto the bottom.

     For race day, it was decided that I should take Josh and Sam, who will be a tiger cub next year, to the race and Joel would stay home with the girls and Jake so the little ones could nap.  I really dislike being responsible for the last-minute adjustments and tweaking that are involved in race day, but I really wanted to see the race.  We signed in and then stopped at "the pit".  They had some wheel lubricant to use and so I talked Josh into using some.  We hadn't done that in the past and I wasn't sure how to do it.  One of the other dads helped us out.  Well, in case you didn't know, powdered graphite is very messy!  Josh's car now had grey splotches all over it.  It looked pretty bad.  A lump worked it's way up my throat.  Fortunately, some water and paper towels from the restroom cleaned it up nicely. 

     The next stop was the official weigh in.  The cars are not allowed to exceed certain dimensions, nor can they weigh more than 5 grams.  They have an official race day weight made by NASA with the cub scout logo to test the scales.  This is serious stuff.  Josh's car came in at 4.7g.  As per Joel's instructions, we added a dime to the scale and the weight was just right, 5.0 grams exactly.  So, then it was off to the corner to get out the gorilla glue and attach the dime to the bottom of the car for extra weight.  We went back to the official scale and weighed in again.  The dime fell off.  I squished it back on and pressed as hard as I could for as long as they'd let me.  Then it was time to relinquish the car to the race officials.  We were told we would not be allowed to touch the car again until after the race was complete.  If anything fell off the car, it would have to race without it.  I hoped the dime would hold on.

     Before long it was time for the race to start.  The software program that times the cars and calculates the winners was having technical difficulties.  Finally the races began.  But the electronic "scoreboard" was showing the wrong boys names in the wrong places.  It was determined that the computer and the humans were not labeling lanes 1-6 in the same way and that created confusion.  So the first few heats had to be run again.  To entertain us during the delay, (or else make the delay seem even longer, I'm not sure which)  they open the mic up to any cub scout wishing to share a joke.  The joke-telling line was long for the rest of the race.

     After waiting through the tigers, wolves, and bears, it was finally time for webelos 1.  Unlike previous races we've done where it was either single or double elimination (i.e. you lose once or twice and your done) this time each boy raced 6 times--once in each lane.  It's actually more fair this way, because it doesn't matter who you race against or which lane you're in.  Also, it's good because even the slowest car gets to race six times.  (At Josh's first race when he was a tiger I just hoped he would win one heat, that's all I wanted--just don't get eliminated on the very first run!)  Amazingly, the dime stayed attached and Josh won 5 out of the 6 races he ran in.  He came in 2nd the other time.  When the scores were posted, Josh was declared the winner of the Webelos 1 category! 

     When the races were done, they gave out ribbons for the best looking cars and the fastest cars in each level of scouts.  Then, there were only 2 trophies remaining--one for the "Best in Show" and one for the fastest car.  I was amazed and proud when they called Josh up to receive the trophy for the fastest car in the entire pack!  I couldn't help but wonder if that other dad was sorry he'd helped us with the lubricant.

     As he was standing up there in front of everyone, I was so glad I had taken the time to sew on all his new patches.  Since we just moved I had to replace the pack, den, and council badges with his new ones.  I admit sewing is not an activity I enjoy nor am I particularly good at.  I almost just didn't do it since I had just done it a year ago when we moved and I felt that I had validated the sewing cub scout patches for my "mommy merit badges".  It was really the pinewood derby that motivated me to sew them on at all.  I don't think I would have bothered for just a pack meeting.  I think Boy Scouts should change the uniforms to be more like flight suits.  When my husband changes units, he just rips one velcro patch off and slaps on the new one and he's done.  I'm so glad I don't have to sew those!

     On the way out to our van, a scout dad stopped us and congratulated Joshua.  I mentioned that this was his first year to do it alone without dad's help.  "Your Dad has taught you very well," was his reply.  I told Josh in the car that Dad would be jealous of his trophy.  Joel was incredulous and overjoyed when Josh showed him the trophy and told how he won.  I'm glad Josh had the chance to do it on his own.  His victory is even sweeter this way.  I shouldn't be surprised that with a fighter pilot dad, Josh is into speed.

   In March, we're off to the district race, the next level where the fastest from each pack compete against each other.  Usually, we come home from the derby and toss his car in his keepsake box with the cars from previous years and his baby shoes.  This year, we put it carefully up on the fridge so the littles couldn't get it and break it.  We treated it even more carefully than we did before the race.  Now, it wasn't just a pinewood car, now it was a winner!  So let's just hope that dime stays on until March!

  I have returned home this week after being out of town last week for my aunt's funeral.  My  husband took two days off work and filled in as a substitute teacher while I was gone.  He and the children had a great time together.  What a blessing that they all allowed me the freedom to be with my other family members during this difficult time.  They were all quite happy to see me when I returned though.  They picked me up at the airport in their jammies (well, my husband was dressed, lol).  Rebekah lit up and squealed with delight, "Momma!" like my arrival was a total surprise.  It's hard to explain these things to the little ones.  Joel worked on writing and math facts with the oldest.  Those are our current emphasis items.  My only diappointment was that the children went ahead in the read alouds and I missed out on several chapters.  (Anyone using Sonlight will know what I mean!)  My husband accuses me of homeschooling for myself, which is only partially true.  I really enjoy learning along with the children and knowing all sorts of things I didn't pick up the first time around.  I figure that if I can pass on a love of reading and a love of learning to my children, then they can teach themselves just about anything.  Of course, that's an oversimplified definition of homeschooling, but that's one of my major goals.

     We are now adjusting back to "normal" life--whatever that is.  I'm not even sure such a creature exists.  I still can't believe my aunt is gone.  I'm glad that she has secured a permanent healing through her faith in Jesus, but I'm sad that she is no longer with us.  Such is the dilemma of living in this time where Christ has already absolutely won the victory over sin and death and yet, we have not yet fully attained it.  It is a mystery I can not understand or express, but yet we all feel the tension it produces within us. 

      My aunt is healed and whole and happy beyond what we can even imagine.  Knowing that brings such peace and comfort.  And yet, we are all left here with the unanswered questions lingering in the air.  There are those who say we must not ask, "Why God?", but I disagree.  As our pastor said just this past Sunday, "A faith that is not able to stand up to the scrutiny of hard questions is not a faith worth embracing."  He went on to describe three kinds of faith:  weak faith, defiant faith, and confused faith.  Weak faith is afraid of asking the tough questions and will eventually fall away or remain perpetually shallow.  Defiant faith hurls questions at God without a humble heart.   It shakes it fist at Heaven and would not chose to believe even if there were sufficient answers.  Confused faith wants to believe, but is struggling and worn out.  The confused faith comes to God with a humble heart and a desire to know God more intimately.  He described Christianity as an intelligent faith based upon reasonable evidence.  But, he said, even reason has it's limits.  That's where faith comes in.  We must trust the revelation of God.  We wouldn't believe His plans even if He told them to us.

    Just yesterday, Rebekah was pleading earnestly with me for a cup of juice.  I wanted to give her the juice, but I needed to wash my hands first.  As I left the kitchen to wash up in the bathroom, her wails escalated as she thought I was abandoning her and ignoring her request.  She had no way of comprehending that because I had just changed her diaper, I needed to clean up before providing what she wanted.  If I sat down and explained it her, she wouldn't understand.  She is completely unable to grasp the concept of microscopic germs she can't see invading her juice and making her sick.  All she can do is wait patiently while she trusts that I love her, want what's best for her, and know more than she does.  How many 2 year olds do that?!  None, and very few Christians do it with God either.  How often I act like a 2-year-old toward God, upset because He didn't meet my demands in the way or the timing I wanted!  O Lord, give me grace to trust your heart and your perfect wisdom when I can't figure out what on earth You are up to!

   I learned the chorus to the following song when I was at the Academy.  I've always treasured it in times of difficulty or uncertainty.  I searched online to try to find the author to give him/her credit.  Instead, I found the whole song.  I hadn't heard or didn't remember the other parts, but they are also good.  The website said it was from Newsong.  I don't know if they wrote it, or just sang it years ago.  I hope it uplifts and encourages you as well.

All things work for our good
though sometimes we can’t see how they could.
Struggles that break our hearts in two
sometimes blind us to the truth.
Our Father knows what’s best for us;
His ways are not our own.
So, when your pathway grows dim,
and you just can’t see Him,
Remember He’s still on the throne.

God is too wise to be mistaken.
God is too good to be unkind.
So when you don’t understand,
when you don’t see His plan,
When you can’t trace His hand, trust His heart.

He sees the Master plan.
He holds the future in His hands.
So don’t live as those who have no hope.
All our hope is found in Him.
We walk in present knowledge,
but He sees the first and the last.
And like a tapestry, He’s weaving you and me
to someday be just like Him.

God is too wise to be mistaken.
God is too good to be unkind.
So when you don’t understand,
when you don’t see His plan,
When you can’t trace His hand, trust His heart.

Another thing our pastor mentioned in his sermon was that we should all "doubt our doubts".  It's interesting advice.  I've never thought of it that way, but he has a good point.

     One verse that has been rumbling around in my head the last couple of weeks is Psalm 116:15 "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints."  To us, the loss of someone we love can be a tragedy.  But God's way of looking at things is so different from our ways.  He says it's precious when He receives one of His own in the place where they truly belong.  The Message translates that verse "When they arrive at the gates of death, God welcomes those who love him."

    Another passage that keeps drawing my attention as I contemplate the deaths of those dear to me is from John 12.

Jesus answered, "Time's up. The time has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.

 24-25"Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you'll have it forever, real and eternal.

 26"If any of you wants to serve me, then follow me. Then you'll be where I am, ready to serve at a moment's notice. The Father will honor and reward anyone who serves me.

 27-28"Right now I am storm-tossed. And what am I going to say? 'Father, get me out of this'? No, this is why I came in the first place. I'll say, 'Father, put your glory on display.'"

   A voice came out of the sky: "I have glorified it, and I'll glorify it again."

     This was Jesus' response to some who asked to a disciple to help them see Jesus.  Strange answer.  They want to see Him and He starts talking about death.  We have no way of knowing what "fruit" is born of our sufferings.  We must learn to respond like Jesus and not ask God to spare us from the pain, but instead glorify Himself through our hurts.

      I have one more poem to share and then I'll conclude this rather lengthy post.  Thanks for sticking it out with me this far.  Today for our poetry reading in homeschool, we had the following Sonnet by Christina Rossetti.  I thought it was very appropriate for today and a good reminder to enjoy the life I have even though I'm mourning my loss of others who have gone on to Glory.  For they are not really "lost" after all.  They are safe in the arms of Jesus.

Remember me when I am gone away,    
   Gone far away into the silent land;    
   When you can no more hold me by the hand, 
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. 
Remember me when no more day by day    
   You tell me of our future that you plann’d:    
   Only remember me; you understand 
It will be late to counsel then or pray. 
Yet if you should forget me for a while    
   And afterwards remember, do not grieve:    
   For if the darkness and corruption leave    
   A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, 
Better by far you should forget and smile 
   Than that you should remember and be sad. 

     Better still, I think, to remember and be happy for all shared and felt before the flowers faded and the mist that we call life moved on to higher realms, and for all that our loved ones now enjoy in the security of Eternity, and for all that will be our own when one day we who call upon the name of Jesus will be gathered around His celestial throne.

     Goodbye, Aunt Linda.  We'll see you soon.

     Last night as I was tucking him in, Jacob asked me for a drink of water as is his habit.  Since he usually only takes a minuscule amount from an already tiny dixie cup, I often suspect that he's not really thirsty, he just doesn't want to go to bed.  So last night, I asked him, "Are you really thirsty, or are you just stalling?"

   "What is stalling?", he asked me.

     I replied, "It's when you don't want to go to bed, so you come up with as many other things to do as you can possibly think of."

     He reflected for a moment and then asked, "What was the first choice?"

     My children know they can't get out of bedtime, but they also know Mommy is unable to refuse them water, even when I know they aren't thirsty.  Even 22-month old Rebekah has figured this one out from watching big brother Jake get tucked in.  They've got me figured out!  Scary.