The Coming

The woman came, Samaritan by birth

To the well by divine appointment.

The Jesish man spoke to her

“Give me water.”

At first shocked, she defined the cultural taboo,

“I am a Samaritan; you are a Jew.”

“If you knew me,” he answered,

“you would want living water.”

“Are you greater than Jacob?” she asked.

Oh, yes, she knew her history.

She also knew her need.

“Living water,” the Jew mentioned it again.

She stepped closer, her errand forgotten.

“Yes, this is what I want.”

“You have had five husbands and the man you have now

Is not your husband.”

Ah, yes, he knew her history.

He also knew her need.

“Prophet, sir,” she countered with respect,

“some worshipped in the mountains

Some worshipped in Jerusalem.”

This man spoke of true worship,

“in Spirit and in truth” and of

“salvation”.

Her hopes soared at the word,

“Messiah will speak this way…” she ventured,

Her heart realizing the truth, as he answered,

“I am He.”

Spirit soaring

Waterpot abandoned

She turned, splashing through living water,

To tell others

Messiah had come.

This is the link to Cowboy Mark, episode three.

"How Beautiful Are the Feet"

“What is up with the feet?” asks my friend who is watching my slide show scroll past while we visit in the living room. “There’s been like six pictures of feet, and I think they are all Tim’s.”

My son loves to take pictures of his own feet. Anytime he is given the camera, he will inevitably snap a straight down photo of his feet. Usually just one, and then he takes other normal pictures of events, sculptures, flowers, etc. My boy is nine years old, but has done this since he first started using the camera. He’s at a great age to be in charge of “taking pictures” and it keeps him busy at family events. I know he will get carried away and in amongst all the great shots of his sister’s birthday party there will be the one token shot of his own feet. We have pictures of sandaled feet, bare feet, feet in the sand, and feet in boots.

It’s usually just one, sometimes two shots of his feet. I think it has become a habit. Camera in hand simply means “feet in frame”-- click. The feet in his latest pictures have grown noticeably bigger and I am certain he will tower over his “tall” mom someday in the near future. While I have deleted several of these “feet” shots through the years, I did choose to let some go. Just so we will always remember that Tim loved to take pictures of his own feet.

Recently, there were pictures of my husband’s graduation on the camera. A nice one of the family, a nice one of Sarah and Marcus walking, one of a total stranger pushing carts, uh-oh, here it comes…one of his own feet…yet again…at least he had dress shoes on for the occasion.

I am so glad my children are unique, with their own quirks, favorite knock -knock jokes, and yes, even a fascinating photographer of feet. Psalm 139:14 says “I praise you because I am beautifully and wonderfully made.” It’s all these little individual facets of my children that make me smile when other people mention them. If you ask my son why he takes pictures of his feet, he will simply shrug his shoulders and answer, “I don’t know; I just like to.”

God has given my young son many wonderful unique attributes that are uniquely his, and this penchant for foot photos is just one aspect of his individual personality. I am grateful to God that my Tim has chosen to be a Christ follower, and that he shares his faith in Jesus with others whom he meets. He recently told me his language tutor is a Christian.

“How do you know that, Tim?” I asked.

“Well, I asked if she truly believed Jesus died for her sins, and she said yes.” It’s simple when you are nine years old, and I am grateful for his boldness, his candor, and his faith. This facet of his personality lends new meaning to those many pictures of feet. It brings to mind the Bible verse I will end with, “How beautiful are the feet of them who bring good news.” Romans 10:15

So the next time someone asks me, "What is up with the feet?" I may just share about my son's beautiful feet.

On May 7, 2011, my wonderful husband donned a black cap and gown and joined the graduation ceremony at Cornerstone university in Grand Rapids, Michigan. This had been a long day coming for his family and we were very proud. I wrote about the day as a Yahoo Contributor. Click here for details.

"In my opinion, the teaching, rearing, and training of children requires more intelligence, intuitive understanding, humility, strength, wisdom, spirituality, perseverance, and hard work than any other challenge we might have in life." ~James E. Faust

The Case of the Missing Jacket

I have failed miserably as a parent. Not in totality, but at least in one area with my nine year old son. It’s in the area of personal responsibility. That is, personal responsibility for his jacket. I have pointedly reminded him that his jacket is his responsibility and that he needs to keep track of it. I see you nodding as you read. You have had this talk. You see where this is going…

Wednesday afternoon: “Mom, I can’t find my coat, I think I left it in Aunt Lisa’s van.”

“Alright, then you need to call and check.”

“Can’t you call?” His voice borders on whining and I raise an eyebrow (sort of).

“Your coat is your responsibility. I will dial the number for you.”

The coat was not in Aunt Lisa’s van, but thankfully, she remembered seeing it on the back of the chair during our McDonald’s lunch. Later that night, the husband and son go to McDonald’s and find the jacket. Dad gives the “your jacket is your responsibility” talk. I sigh with relief. Whew! That oughta do it. DAD has spoken.

On Thursday (yes, the very next day), we took Grandma to the doctor. Guess who couldn’t find his coat later in the day? Same boy. I called the doctor’s office. Sure enough, it was there. Tim and I trekked over in the van, “Go in and get your coat.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“No.”

“Will you please come in with me?” The almost-whine is back. So is the eyebrow (sort of).

“Your coat is your responsibility….etc…etc…” The boy went in and retrieved the coat.

Saturday (two days later, of course, it was over 60 degrees on Friday, who needs a coat, anyway!) after soccer, I see a strange blue shape on the grass…. “Tim, grab your jacket!”

Did I mention we also have a convenient set of hooks behind the back door where said-jacket is supposed to reside? Happily hung with the other little people jackets, only Tim’s hook is mysteriously empty. I notice this Sunday night and simply sigh and head for bed.

Monday morning and my son wants to know, “Mom, where is my jacket? It’s cold outside.”

I sigh, I say, “You mean, ‘Mom, I lost my jacket.’”

Red-nosed, and growing taller by the moment, my nine year old stands in the kitchen, a blank look on his face. I can tell he has no idea where his jacket is; he is completely clueless. I take pity on the boy this time…I hunt for the back-up jacket. You know, the garage sale one with the sticky zipper? (One of mom’s creative solutions for just such an occasion). Nope, I think that one got left at soccer practice. My dear son, bless his heart, is roaming the backyard this morning in his mama’s shrug….and later, we will have to figure out (once again) what happened to that jacket.

http://traceystidbits.blogspot.com/2010/02/five-things-that-i-love-to-wear-in.html

Found a new word today….Tornage…..that would be the damage and the carnage left by a tornado. Devastating, life changing events have occurred in our nation’s south. I was pouring morning coffee when my husband mentioned that over 100 people had perished in Alabama.

I set my cup down quickly. “Are you serious?” was my immediate reaction and probably echoes what many were thinking this morning. Yes, tornadoes do kill people, especially in “tornado alley”, but over 100 people, no way. My mind immediately went to my southern red-headed Alabama college friend who taught me to say “y’all” the proper way.

“This is WAY bad” was my next thought as I hopped onto facebook before turning on the television. My friend was alright, but Tuscaloosa, Alabama and many other states were not. I parked in front of the TV for awhile, my dazed brain trying to take in the devastation while scenes and facts from the Twister movie paraded through my thoughts. I also thought of Dorothy and remembered assuring my nervous kids that it wasn’t real. Only this was reality, and I am certain even children lost their lives. My heart and my prayers go out to those parents and families. Perhaps you feel that same sense of dazed loss that I do this morning, that “Are you serious?” feeling. Will you respond as I did? Will you pray?

Name Them One by One

Another day on the planet to count my blessings. Thank you Lord, for, (in random order):

1. Family

2. Friends

3. Hot coffee

4. Heater in the van

5. Washer and Dryer

6. Chocolate

7. The Bible

8. The ability to read

9. The best husband ON THE PLANET!

10. The smiles of my children

11. The humor of my children

12. The ability to drive

13. The telephone

14. Soft pillows

15. The internet

16. My Lord and savior, Jesus Christ

17. God

18. Life and liberty for all who believe

19. Freedom

20. Food

Here's a piece I wrote about home school spelling. How do you do spelling? Enjoy.

He who Calms the Storm (Sometimes)

Mark, “Mom, why is God doing this to me? Why is God making me sick?”
Mom, “Oh, honey, God isn’t making you sick,” I say as I hold him and rock him, “we live in such a fallen world.” My answer falls flat even to me as I comfort a feverish child and my own storms loom over me. Two days later, the boy is well and yet, his questions linger in my heart. How do I answer? How do I encourage his faith to grow?
God met me again and used our pastor’s message to help answer my son’s questions (and my own). In Luke chapter 8, the disciples wake Jesus because of a terrifying storm and Jesus calms the sea. But why was there a storm in the first place? God uses storms in life to draw us near to Him. Why does He do this? There is a certain truth that we will never know the full knowledge of God. Our childish intellect will always fail us in this area. It brings to mind a certain song, “Sometimes He calms the storm; other times He calms His child.” (Scott Krippayne).
Another thing to remember is that you are not alone in your storm. You are a Christ follower. Jesus is in the boat with you. He sticks closer than a brother. You must turn to him in your hour of need. And, ultimately, He will answer, in your storm and in mine. He went through the worst storm ever at the cross for us. As this truth sinks in, my questioning heart is stilled; there is peace after the storm.
“Come sit next to me, Mark. Mama wants to read to you about Jesus and a storm.”

This free slideshow design made with Smilebox

April is National Poetry Month

Were that I were a better poet

Could that I could spread a picnic

tablecloth on grass and

invite you all to sit

and share God’s love like

watermelon.

Would that I would

answer all your questions

see souls surrender

and watch His love

light up your eyes.

Were that I were a better poet

Can that I can

act in His walk

talk with His talk,

my own faulty gait

like an arrow

or a signpost.

Could that I could point you the way

were that I were a better poet.

A Patch of Old Snow

There's a patch of old snow in a corner

That I should have guessed

Was a blow-away paper the rain

Had brought to rest.

It is speckled with grime as if

Small print overspread it,

The news of a day I've forgotten-

If I ever read it.

Today, I am announcing my first guest blog.

Today's guest is Ms. Sarah Westphal, age seven. She is an avid reader, writer, and enjoys typing as well. I hope you enjoy her book review.

Library Lion-- A Book Review by Sarah Westphal

The Library Lion is written by Michelle Knudsen and illustrated by Kevin Hawkes.

This story is about a lion and a library. The lion goes into the library and becomes friends with the children and helps them reach high places. The lion loves story time. When they are done reading, the lion roars at the storyteller and Miss Merriweather tells him not to roar at the story teller. The lion helps the librarian (Miss Merriweather ). But Mr. Mcbee doesn’t like the lion. I like the book because it has a library and a lion and because it has the lion help the children and because Miss Merriweather always says, “Don’t run in the library.”

One day when Miss Merriweather was trying to reach a book, she fell off her stool and she couldn’t get up and so she told the library lion to go get Mr. Mcbee to come and help her. So the library lion ran to Mr. Mcbee’s office and roared in his face. Mr. Mcbee said, “You are not being quiet. You are breaking the rules.” The library lion knew that he broke the rules. The library lion left. Mr. Mcbee ran calling, “Miss Merriweather! The lion broke the rules!” Miss Merriweather was not in her chair. She said, “Sometimes there is a good reason to break the rules. Even in the library.” Miss Merriweather said. Miss Merriweather’s arm was broken.

The next day things were back to normal. Miss Merriweather’s left arm was in a cast and the doctor told her not to work hard. Miss Merriweather said, “Well, I have my lion to help me.” But the next morning the lion didn’t come. At three o’clock Miss Merriweather went to the story corner and the lion was not there. The people kept looking for the lion but they couldn’t find him.

One evening, Mr. Mcbee stopped by Miss Merriweather’s office on his way out. She was sad. He thought there probably was something he could do for Miss Merriweather. Mr. Mcbee left the library. But he did not go home. He walked around the neighborhood, looking for the lion. Finally he circled all the way back to the library. The lion was sitting outside, looking in through the glass doors. He told the lion, “No roaring allowed, unless you have a very good reason.”

The next day, Mr. McBee told Miss Merriweather, “There’s a lion in the library.” Miss Merriweather ran to meet her lion.

It is a very good book and well thought out. There are also very good illustrations in this book. You should read it.

Your Move

"Poets do not go mad; but chess-players do." ~Gilbert Keith Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Recently, (okay, not THAT recently), I visited a Christian coffee shop I love and played Scrabble with the man. If you have ever played Scrabble with the man you will know that he is a canny strategist who must weigh each decision. For him, scrabble is chess. This leaves a little down time between moves for me.

So I wandered to the books...bible, bible, Dobson,...a few others, but Nooo christian poetry...(well, other than the Bible, psalms, parts of the prophets, etc...) Not even good old dependable Helen Steiner Rice. What a travesty!

I was a little disappointed. I told the man. He muttered something about getting a z on the triple word score and didn't even make eye contact....I decided I must get some Christian poetry over here soon. Young minds are being deprived!

Later, when I returned home, I realized I did not want to part with any of my Christian poetry books. I love my Elizabeth Rooney, my Lucy Shaw, my Ruth Calkin, and even my Robert Frost (a small well worn paperback book I left at a park somewhere, arghh...must replace that soon). This resolve may be more costly than I'd supposed...

Good intentions sometimes lie dormant....no, I have not yet made my poetry delivery, but I found a wonderful poem to share today....if not with the coffee shop goers, then at least with my own little blog world.

It's Your Move

All through the long dreary hours

Of this rough toilsome day

I have struggled to believe

That Your plan is good

that the blows and bruises

Will stablish me

That the staggering changes

Will settle me.

I have struggled to believe

That Your way is perfect.

But waiting here alone

Shrouded in thick loneliness

I confess I don't see it.

Frankly I just don't see

That Your way is perfect.

And now I hear You say

I didn't say you would see it--

I only said--it is.

So, Lord, it's Your move.

Good-night.

By Ruth Harms Calkin

Five Things (Books this time)

Five Things (I try to post my "Five Things" on a semi-regular basis so if you see "five things" in my label list, some interesting things may turn up.)

five things (18)

The five books closest to this computer are:

EsEssentials of Strategic Management (school book for Ryan)

2. 2. Love Wins (Liberal Theology)

3. 3. His Thoughts Toward Me (uber devotional)

4. 4. B-I-B-L-E (Real Theology J

5. 5. Clep guide to Algebra (for Ryan’s school)

Weird, there were no kids' books in my five….

Okay, five books that are in the library bin.

1. Biography of Charles Lindbergh

2. The Prince and the Pooch (Wishbone’s take on the classic Prince and the Pauper)

3. Crab Cab (Can you say learning to read?)

4. The Periodic Table of Elements (Yep, that’s science)

5. Mercy Watson Thinks Like a Pig (By the way, Mercy really is a pig)

Homeschooling Without a Dedicated Classroom

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/7833136/homeschooling_without_a_dedicated_classroom.html?cat=7

Homeschooling without a dedicated classroom. Click the link for tips.

The Continuing Adventures of Crazy Mom-- Episode 3, the Field Trip

Today Crazy Mom was feeling especially adventurous. She even let those kids destroy an old dolly bed with a hammer. Can you say demolition? Can you say repurpose? Can you say tiny bits of wood all over the place that had to all be picked up and swept up by the four happy hoodlums. In an especially generous moment, she also let them get out the legos. Yup, the tiny ones that usually hide in the back of the closet (Crazy Mom’s own closet). Yes, Crazy Mom was feeling especially jazzy.

Spontaneously, she declared it a field trip day. She stalwartly refused to leave the house until all those itty-bitty-teeny-tiny-owie-to-step-on-little legos had been picked up. She also used her drill sergeant voice to encourage shoe putting-on and coat zipping-up. The six year old twins grinned, the daughter placated, and the nine year old boy actually rolled his eyes. Hup, 2, 3, 4, Hup…

Crazy Mom was in a mood. She was rejoicing in the day that the Lord had made. The sun was shining. She had been up early. She had her coffee and her BBB (Bible Before Breakfast). She was ready! And, now, let the field trip begin.

They arrived at the Frederick Meijer Gardens to view the butterflies in the tropical conservatory. But first, they had to park in East Kabudaville (That’s Crazy Mom talk for “wow, we had to park far away” and “whoa, what a hike to that, what do you call it? Oh yeah, the entrance.”)

So it was a little busy. There were masses of children here to see the butterflies. Unfortunately, most of the visitors were of smallish size similar to that of the four happy hoodlums. Crazy Mom instructed the troops to stay close but Lucas’s eyes were already sparkling. He had spotted his first “new family” of the day. He was already making friends with the four year old blonde while mom hung up all five coats. The nine year old looked impatient…think..think…aha! Crazy mom handed him the camera. Sure enough, his eyes lit up as he wandered away. Crazy Mom silently praised that God of hers for such a great idea.

She made her way out of the coat room back into the large entrance hall. The daughter stuck like glue, but not those boys..Was that Marc? “Marc,” hollered Crazy Mom, “get back here and get your coat off.” No, wait, it was just a boy weating a coat just like Marc’s. That’s not fair, she thought, Marc already has a twin. Aha! There was Marc. She marched over to take his hand and turned to see a boy who was far too old to be lying on the floor actually lying on the floor. He was looking at the sculpture suspended from the ceiling. His camera looked very familiar. Oh dear, Crazy Mom prayed for patience as she snapped her fingers. “Just a minute, Mom…there! Now that’s a picture, look!” Poor boy, he got the “Yes, dear, that’s very nice…please don’t lie on the floor…now where are your brothers?” speech.

Crazy Mom deep sighed, “Alright, Lord,” she prayed silently, “I’m responsible for Your kids on this field trip. Thank-you for allowing me to be the one they call Mom.” Crazy Mom felt the peace that passes understanding wrap itself a little tighter around her heart and she actually smiled and truly admired the boy’s photo—it was a unique shot. Her aspiring photographer beamed at the genuine praise and surprisingly, even offered to let his sister take a picture.

While this moment of sharing happened, Crazy Mom realized Marc was still nowhere to be seen and Lucas was….she scanned the area… Of course, he was chatting up the blonde and her family. But they were ready to move on. The mom pointed out Crazy Mom to Lucas but he pretended not to see. Crazy Mom had to actually walk over to collect him.

Then she heard a small slam. The sound was familiar..she tried to connect it to something…anything….piano? aha! A piano. A piano lid over keys, that’s it..that’s MARC! Plink plink. “Honey, don’t touch this piano, it’s not yours.” “But mom, we don’t have a piano.”

Okay, collect Marc. Return to see three children lying on the floor under the suspended sculpture taking more pictures.

As Crazy Mom reminds herself to lean not on her own understanding but to trust in the Lord with all her heart, she realizes she can still see the coat room, and they have not seen a single butterfly. As she lies on the floor and studies the sculpture, yes, it is a unique perspective, she realizes it may be awhile before another spontaneous field trip.

Join us next time when Crazy Mom discovers teaching the art of sharing is far more difficult than she realized.

A Wink from Heaven

Don’t you love accidental Bible look ups? I think they may be God’s way of making us smile, kind of a wink from heaven.

My first remembrance of an accidental look up was when I was a teenager and that awful boy, Ryan, broke my heart and broke up with me AGAIN! I cried and cried and my friend encouraged me by sending me little slips of paper with Bible verses like Psalm 147:3, “He heals the broken-hearted, binding up their wounds.” But that wasn’t my favorite…I’m not sure what she originally intended, but I looked up Hebrews 7:17, “You are a priest forever in the order of Melchisedec.” Given my very limited knowledge of scriptural types and shadows in eschatology, et cetera, and having no idea how to pronounce Mel-kis-a, Mel-chis-a…..it just made me laugh.

I called my friend immediately to ask her if she knew that we could be priests forever in the order of Mel-cheese-a-deek. This verse became a standard of encouragement between us for years. I think God was winking at me back then and winks at me still. (After all, He is the creator of my individual slightly warped sense of humor).

Recently, I headed to Galatians for a word of encouragement after a particularly difficult day dealing with those other human beings on the planet. (I can tell from your expression that you’ve met them too.) I was headed for Galatians 5:25, “if you live by the Spirit walk by the Spirit”. That one seemed to fit right in with how I was feeling toward those people. You know, a “just keep swimming” verse.

Instead I turned to Galations 5:15, which was actually much more convicting of my own attitude and actions. It stated, “But if you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.” Ouch.

Perhaps that one was a wink AND a reprimand. So next time you have an accidental look up, take a moment and reflect. It may have, indeed, been intentional on the part of Him who created you and knows you best.

Dinosaur Cookies –How to Entertain Your Grandma

If you are seven and you want to entertain your Grandma, you should mention that you like to make cookies. You should show excitement when Grandma shows you her “dinosaur” cookie cutters. Wash your hands and be ready to roll out the dough.

You should push the cookie cutters into the dough all the way. Always put love in the cookies. Make the love sign by crossing your arms over your chest and pretending to put some love in the cookies. Be patient with your older brother as he shouts, “Love Gun!” and pretends to machine gun the cookie dough.

You should use the spatula to move the dinosaur from the counter to the cookie sheet. Stay calm if his foot falls off and Grandma will stay calm too. She will show you how to push it back onto his leg.

You should watch the cookies through the little oven window as they grow and spread. Grandma says “Be careful, it’s hot,” lots and lots of times so stand back from the oven so you won’t make her nervous.

While the cookies are cooling, help Grandma make several colors of frosting. Gather paintbrushes and anything else Grandma needs.

After the cookies have cooled, paint with colors and keep smiling. Use lots of yellow and don’t get frosting everywhere. Remind your younger brothers not to put the frosting brushes in their mouths. Grandma will remind you, “Don’t get carried away with that frosting.” While the frosting is setting on the cookies, you can find some books for Grandma to read. Try to pick the ones you know she likes best.

Don’t forget to say thank-you when it is time to eat the cookies. They will taste great and make sure Grandma eats one too.

The Ruined Waistband

The Ruined Waistband

The human brain loves illustrations. We like stories that make a point, poetry that must be tasted, and even jokes and riddles that make us laugh. Humanity was designed this way. From the parables of Jesus to the fables of Aesop, we love those “aha” moments.

The Word of God is sometimes like that big box of your great great aunt’s jewelry that “you kids are allowed to play with carefully” when you visit great grandma’s house and all the grownups want to do is talk, talk, talk. Inevitably, you discover that one beautiful piece you hadn’t seen last time and its beauty delights your sense of touch and sight.

An avid Bible reader for decades, today I touched a jewel. In Jeremiah 13, Jeremiah bought a beautiful linen waistband and wore it for awhile. Then he hid it in rocks by the Euphrates River and later, retrieved it. It was ruined.

Verse 10 says, “This wicked people, who refuse to listen to My words, who walk in the stubbornness of their hearts and have gone after other gods to serve them, let them be just like this waistband, which is totally worthless.”

I can see Jeremiah, stretching forth the ruined waistband, seeking desperately for the people to turn their hearts to God.

I do not want to walk in the stubbornness of my heart.

I do not want to serve other gods of my own making.

I want to be wrapped tightly to the waist of God, to cling to His truth and justice, for His praise and glory.

I want to listen and obey. I want to be fine linen, and not a ruined waistband.

Decent Christian Woman

Apparently, a decent Christian woman has the ability to hold her tongue. No, this was not recently illustrated to me by a pastoral sermon, my scripture reading or any spiritual retreat, book, or even another Christian sharing truth with me.

No, this revelation was made through television. Yes, television. If God can use the donkey to talk to Balaam, then He can use whatever means necessary to communicate truth to his servant.

So Friday night, I made popcorn for the kiddos and we settled in to watch that old classic, The Wizard of Oz. This being my first time seeing it since….well, probably childhood, I was amazed by my adult perspective on the movie. You remember that woman who came to get Dorothy’s dog? Well, here are Auntie Em’s words for her, “I’ve waited thirty years to tell you what I think of you, Elmira Gultch! And I still can’t tell you because I am a decent Christian woman.” She then storms out of the room. My popcorn about fell out of my mouth. An actual reference to Christianity in pop culture? An acknowledgement that a relationship with God affects your behavior? An actual on screen manifestation of the fruit of the Spirit, self-control? I was stunned.

Less than forty-eight hours later, I am listening to the T.V. while trying to fall asleep. The husband is awake and watching an old Denzel Washington movie called Johnny Q. Public, where a father takes hostages because his insurance company will not pay for his son’s heart transplant. The negotiators want to use the wife to talk him down, but when she sees the insurance woman, she states, “I will not be used, and I will not talk to that woman,” Then she turns to her, “I would tell you what I think of you but I am a decent Christian woman.” End of conversation. I was flabbergasted. Another bit of self control because of a relationship with Christ! This was, at least, what, forty years after the Wizard of Oz?

I sat up in bed, “That’s just what Auntie Em said on Friday!” I exclaimed. The half-sleeping husband raised an eyebrow in my general direction; he had not been home for movie night and was not in the loop. “That bit there, about the decent Christian woman! It’s straight from the Wizard of Oz!”

Having been married for a long time and having grown used to these strange outbursts, he calmly asked, “Should I rewind it for you?”

“No, no,” I responded, “I am going to sleep now.”

But as I lay back down, I thought of television’s portrayal of these two “decent Christian women” and their ability to hold their tongue. I wondered if one writer had borrowed the line from the other. I wondered if today’s Christian woman is too quick to complain, too quick to speak, too quick to denigrate others. I thought, am I holding my tongue as I should be? Am I a decent Christian woman? Lord, let me be self controlled in all areas, not in myself, but because of my relationship with You.

Take A Step

A smooth sea does not a good sailor make. It’s the rough seas, the pirate encounters, and even the mutinies that make the man. Times of adversity reveal true character.

When my husband lost his job, someone told him, “I guess your faith in God is real after all.” Apparently, this person was waiting to see Ryan fall apart. They wanted to know if his talk matched his walk. Ryan did not fall apart; he didn’t even fall on his faith. He leaned back comfortably, acknowledging to Whom he belonged. My husband did not panic, cry, or whine. He even smiled. A doomsday cloud was not above his head. He rested in the calm assurance that God had it all under control. He has always been a good sailor (and granted, he’d faced rougher seas then unemployment). True, this bystander had been looking at the Christian, and not the Christ. (Not to worry, the husband pointed him in the right direction).

Still, the point remains. Do we truly rejoice when we face trials of many kinds? Or do we believe we are the masters of our own destiny. Do we acknowledge that ALL we have is because of our Creator, God? No, this does not mean we sit in our unemployment and wait for God to drop the perfect job in our lap. Faith is an action word. It’s a walking word, and a place where God meets us. Remember Indiana Jones and the “step of faith” he made into the seemingly bridgeless chasm? There was the bridge, the once invisible made visible. This is what happens when we take that first step.

Of course, this is all easier said than done, or is it? Doesn’t it become easier in the doing? Don’t be a sailor afraid to set sail. Stop worrying about the weather. Acknowledge to Whom you belong and walk in it. Go ahead. Take a step.

A Toddler’s Top Five Books

Again? You want me to read this again? Am I the only adult who can recite Sandra Boynton’s, But not the Hippotamus from memory? A hog and a frog do a dance in the bog….

Young children generally love books, and my twins are no exception. As a homeschool mom, I want books that educate my kids. Not boring facts, but something that sparks the imaginative process. If I teach my kids to absolutely love reading, there’s no limit to the information they can find out as adults. So here is a list of their favorites (and mommy’s too.)

1. But Not the Hippopotamus by Sandra Boynton. A hippo watches the action from the sidelines while the phrase is repeated, “but not the hippopotamus”. At the end she is invited to join the action….and the answer is… “but YES! the hippopotamus.”

2. Hello Shoes by Joan Blos. A little boy and his grandpa hunt the house for his favorite pair of shoes. They look in several places without discovered the favorite footwear. When at last the missing shoes are found, he buckles them BY HIMSELF for the first time, and the grandpa sings, “This is the boy who buckled his shoes…buckled his shoes…”

3. Diary of a Wombat by Jackie French. This “Australian raccoon”, the nocturnal wombat, discovers his new human neighbors. He digs up their flowers, wrestles their welcome mat, tears down hanging laundry, and pounds on their metal trash cans until he receives carrots. It is told from the wombat’s point of view. It ends when he decides he likes his new neighbors and they are very trainable.

4. The Christmas Crocodile by Bonnie Becker. The Christmas crocodile didn’t mean to be bad, not really..This story tells of all the havoc a crocodile causes when delivered to the wrong address, and all the things he eats, including the blue spruce, a big one. It ends with the crocodile being hauled away to his rightful home and the little girl, Alice Jayne, smiling because she has a secret, a newly hatched baby crocodile upstairs.

5. Have you Got my Purr? by Judy West. A kitten searches the farmyard for her purr, asking all the animals in turn if they have it. The sheep send her to the dog, the dog sends her to the mouse (this is a little tricky as she is a cat) and so on, until late in the day, she is sent home to her mother and realizes she had her own purr with her after all.

Not only are these five books entertaining, they all have a surprise ending that widens the eyes of young listeners. What makes these five books exceptional is that they take their little listeners on a journey. Their little minds revel in this thought process. They anticipate the ending; they absorb the art of suspense and employ their imaginations. These are the kinds of books that “teach” children. These books are good for their development and yes, inevitably, they will implore you to “Read it again, puh-leeze.”

Crock Pot Writing

I love to write, but cooking….not really my thing.. but the crockpot..now the crockpot is like writing.

You start a piece, throw together the ingredients, chopping some big, some small. You put it in the pot and let it simmer. A piece of writing simmers in my mind; I pen some of it to paper. Look at it, toss in some small bits, maybe some big ones. Try a crunchy carrot or two…hmm…pretty good…turn on low and leave it be for a couple hours. Walk by later and smell it, it’s coming along….add a phrase or two….stir the pot a little. The smell permeates the house. You can even smell chicken and dumplings upstairs. By four’o’clock, I want to print it up, post it to the blog, send it to a friend, read it to a child, but wait, it’s not finished yet. It needs more….time….By six, it’s perfect prose, thick goodness ready to be ladled onto plates, steaming in its perfection. Makes me want to take a picture…but hey, it’s only food, prose, true soul food…don’t let it sit too long in the pot…then it’s overdone…over metaphored….over concised…let it cool….ladle it into containers for the overnight in the fridge…Next day, at lunch, it’s still perfection, maybe even better after the hot words have settled, and now, like a favorite paperback, reopened once again…Ahh, satisfaction.