Just Peachy

Well we did it again. We moved.

I'm beginning to become a professional at packing and unpacking. My kids are beginning to become professionals at looking at houses and deciding which room is theirs. For Pete's sake I'm certain that my brother in law should consider becoming a professional mover as a side job for the amount of times he has helped move just me!

We've been in our newest abode for a month now. I'm in love with its insulation. For real. I think the last time I lived in a house that was fully insulated was when I was a teen. I'm really not joking. I could make a poem up about it all. Sweet insulation, how I love thee.... but that would be dumb.

Anyways...

So the older kiddos are playing outside right now, while the Little General is taking a mid afternoon siesta. Which might I add, is the sanest part of my day, nap time that is. And I've been running around the house doing dishes and laundry and sweeping crumbs up off the floors.

The next best part of my house is that it has no carpeting throughout the entire place! Oh do I ever love sweet already done, beautiful, real, hardwood floors. It makes sweeping so easy and cleaning too. I love them. We have a few rugs down but the main part of my house has gorgeous blonde hardwood floors. Shall I write you a poem about how much I adore them too?

As I was sweeping the few measly crumbs (yea right!) off of the dining room floor, the bare walls caught my eyes. And the feeling of dread came over me again. Of all the houses that I have ever lived in, this is the first house that has caught me off guard on how to actually decorate it. Other then a wall hanging in my living room, I still have not put one picture or painting or piece of artwork up in most of the rooms of my house.

I'm not sure what exactly is paralyzing me over it right now. Except that most of our walls are a bit on the peach side. So 1980's. And since we don't own this baby I can't exactly paint them.

I've been thinking about really crazy, outlandish sized canvases that I could purchase, with our limitless money, to paint on. Or gorgeous New York kinda fabrics that I could somehow swag on the walls. Major wall peelies... eww.

Anything... to get rid of the peach.

I'm sure that if I actually hung pictures up on the wall that the peach would begin to melt away and not be so prominent. But then I'd have to commit. I had a whole wall of white frames with family pics in them at our other house. But white frames with peach background makes me want to add the 1980's goose with the light blue bow around its neck. Anyone else remember that fad?

Which brings me right back to where we started. Stuck.

Maybe if I just don't look up it won't bother me....

The Different Squares of a Quilt

A long, long time ago I saw this woman who's life was vastly different then mine. She whittled everything down to what she could control, her body, her friendships, her family, what she read, what she did, even how she cleaned her house. It was all in this tight little box of how to handle life. The jobs that she did, she did well with much research, thought process, and care. No details were left undone with the few things that she had in her life. Methodical and straight to the point, her life was very black and white.

Today, I look at my life and see it as a bright, colorful, warm quilt. The kind you sit under on a cold winters day, reading a good book, and drinking a hot mocha. Yum. That is how I look at my life. This comforter has tons of different squares on it, with patterns and stripes, and pretty flowers. Each square represents a different moment or occasion of which I have experienced. It does not match. In fact, if you looked closely at the quilt, you'd probably might even think its ugly.

I've been struggling with feelings of being judged for choices we've made, the kind of life we've chosen to live. Some of it may be in my head, but in truth I've been told and outright asked and even straight up verbally judged on choices we've made. Who would want to write or share after that? Seriously?!!!

In time, I have worked through those things and come to some neat conclusions. I used to wish, that I had it all together in some nice neat step by step format or that I could be methodical and calculated. It looks good on the outside, I suppose. Yet for me, it's not.

My quilt is full of color because my life is. Of course, there are patches on that quilt that aren't the prettiest representing  perhaps an unwise decision or two. But most of my quilt is full of the most amazing and beautiful moments in my life;

the birth of each of my children
a small group of people who loved us when we were unlovable
birthday clubs
best friends whom I've literally peed my pants in front of
moving trucks from one state to another
11 different girls living with us
missionaries sharing a long weekend with us
Mexico and Ecuador
blind eyes that have been healed
deaf ears opened
Hispanic and low income children learning about Jesus
celebrating Sinter Claus
watching beautiful brides say "I do" to their husbands
homeschooling my boys while chasing a toddler
renovating houses
dancing with my husband to our song at least once a year
and so much more...

Perhaps, I don't have all the answers or a carefully constructed path with clear direction. But what I do have is a heart full of love and a head full of sweet memories of what I have experienced in life. My quilt is going to continue to grow and grow. The colors will be wild and not even somewhat related or planned out because that just happens to be who I've become. I'm smart enough to know, that there will be a few more dark patches on there, as when you choose to live a life that isn't perfectly planned, you're bound to make a mistake or two.

I wouldn't trade this life for anything. I like my quilt just the way it is, colorful, wild, whimsical, and not perfect.

Testing the Waters

I haven't written in a long, long time. I'll be honest, I haven't even been sure if I wanted to come back. I've gotten to a place where I am trying to balance what I share and what people think or expect of me. So, since facebook was easy and relatively controlled, I decided to just keep it simple.

One liners, a few statements, and comments on other peoples statuses are all I've offered. I came so close to even shutting down my facebook page and saying good bye to it all. Some days I still think I'm going to do that.

But then... then I think about the true friends that I have all over the world and that facebook has been the most helpful in keeping in touch with them. I can't pull the plug... it's the way I talk to my dear friend in Holland, spy on one of my sweet friends in Washington state, learn of babies on the way, catch up with prayer warriors in Indiana, and chuckle over closer friends and their parenting wars.

So then, I thought perhaps I should end my blogging account. I haven't written in over 6 months and in some ways I've been too tired and exhausted, in other ways (here's my vulnerable self again) I've been scared. True to life's journey, I've experienced some serious struggles in this past year. That's my clue to shut down and stay quiet.

But then... then something in the pit of my stomach, the aching in my heart, head, and fingers, would tell me "don't do it." Don't shut everything down, don't quit writing forever.

Recently I've had several different people comment about whether I was going to ever get back on the horse and blog again. Inside my heart did two things .... ache and hurt ... all at once. I ache to write. I'm scared to put myself out there.

Yet, having people ask was a clue from the Lord. Maybe I do need to pick up my proverbial pen again.

So, I'm in a place of  "discussing" with the Lord the point of blogging for me. We are also "conversing" on my fear of judgement and some hurts I've picked up in the last year. I'm at a Y in the road. Should I blog again or should I find a new medium to write in? What's His heart on it all?

I'm testing the waters with blogging again. No expectations for anything, anyone, or even fully myself. Just gonna stick my feet in and see if this is where I belong.

Mama

When my first baby was born, I had decided in my heart I wanted to be a mama. Not a mommy or a mom, but a mama. Somewhere in my mind, I can tell the difference.

Mama has a special place with her children.

Mommy was too young. Mom was too old. But mama was forever.

My children call me all sorts of "mom" names, but down deep I'm still and always will be mama.

It's been a rather long and interesting week being mama. Fevers, strange infections, a trip to the ER, lots of cuddles, interesting coversations and sleepless nights all for my little ones. I wouldn't give this job up for anything. Next to salvation and marrying my husband, my children are the best gifts God has ever given me.

Last night my husband and I were standing around with my in laws, my brother in law, and his wife, talking and laughing about the many things my three boys have said and done recently. Little pranks, wrong things said at inappropriate times, and straight out childish ways that have put us into hysterics.

In a world, in which children are looked at as a burden, I have found that my children are more then just a blessing to me. They have given me life and purpose. They have taught me more about the love from our Heavenly Father then any Sunday sermon. My children have opened my eyes and my heart to a love that I could never put into words.

What an opportunity to be called... Mama.

I Cried So Hard that....

the guy sitting next to me in church asked me if I was okay. Then he told me it would be alright and gave me the christian brother/sister side hug.

I have to laugh at myself, because I really was a blubbering mess and now that I look back at it, I think it is hysterical that some random guy that I've never seen before probably was wondering what in the world was wrong with me.

I was crying because of the missions video that was played during service today. It reduced me to a puddle, a large, bright red, blubbering puddle of tears.

BUT....

It's still in me. No matter what, I can't deny that my heart is to travel to different nations loving people, sharing Jesus with them, and helping those in need. It is who I am and though the dream is not fulfilled, it will be someday.

When I hear messages like the one preached today, I get mad inside. Well, truthfully I get mad with God. I feel like the little kid waiting to be picked for the team. I keep raising my hand, jumping up and down and yelling, "Here I am! What about me! I want to go! I do, I do. Here I am!! Pick me! Pick me!"

Then I sit in a service like todays and I feel like God has skipped over me and picked someone else.

I left the service hurt again. Like the kid who didn't get picked for the team.

Until we went to our friends house, where I laughed and talked good deep God stuff and realized that timing is everything. His timing is everything.

So, I didn't get overlooked.

I'm not forgotten.

My heart is still on FIRE for Him. I still desire to see the lost ~ saved, the broken ~  healed, the hungry ~ fed.

There is much to be done, right where I am at. I must continue to keep my perspective of where He HAS put me.

Sometimes I am rocked to the core, tears pour out of me like someone turned the faucet on high. Yet I realize that I am alive inside. My hearts desires have not died. I have not lost sight of His desire for me. I am not ignoring Him or turning away from His commands, rather I am listening and waiting for when He finally picks me.

One day, I'll be jumping up and down, with my hand raised way up high. I'll be doing my dance and shouting, "Pick me God, I wanna go. Pick me!" And He'll look at me and know that the next assignment was created for someone just like me. I'll be that perfect fit, the one whom He has molded and carved, for that specific time. And He'll choose.........

Me

What Am I Doing???

I was walking with my husband recently. I was talking. He was listening. He's good at doing that.

I told him that I realized something about myself lately. I have vision! I have ideas! I am bursting with so much inside.

Yet, I just don't know what to do with it. Or for that matter, when I have the time to do anything!

A doctor told me recently, that I should consider sending my kiddos to school and phase out homeschooling. His opinion had much to do with my body and it's issues. I saved all my tears for when I got out of the office and onto the phone with my husband.

"No, I'm not quitting," I told him, "I'm not giving up what I know is right for my children."

And so, I find myself at a constant place of inside turmoil. Knowing that I have been out of balance (love how this writer thinks, then again, I know her in real life and I love picking her brain whenever I can) for quite sometime. Enough so, that my body is protesting. Despising the fact, that I can't be just normal.

I know that I am more then just mom.

I read about a friend who just turned in his book to his editors. He's a couple years older then me, living out on the missions field with his family.

Jealousy rose up inside of me.

Mostly, because I know I am destined to do something life altering, world changing, full of love and truth.

I know raising these babies of mine should be enough. Most days it is. I'd sacrifice my life and all my desires to see them become Jesus lovin men with integrity. In my heart, I know that if that is the only thing that I have accomplished in my lifetime, I will have served my Lord well. I am aware of all of this.

Yet my heart still explodes with desires. And I realize, that I need to figure out what my balance really is.

Contact Sports

Don't let these baby blues deceive you, this child o mine is quite the little wrastler.

Recently, I've taken on a new sport. Skip the whole couch to 5k, or p90x, or zumba, I've got a 15 month old who thinks diaper changing should be a contact sport! The "Little General," as we jokingly call him, is pulling out all the stops these days with temper tantrums, screaming, and more when it comes to a change of pants!

My dear friend in NC, whom is pregnant with her 6th baby right now, tried to warn me that the third child is what makes or breaks you in the kid department. I shleffed her off when she would tell her warnings, thinking that baby #3 was going to be 5 years younger then his brother, I could handle this one. Plus, I had this mom thing down, right???

Okay, I admit it. I'll say it outloud and I'll write it for the world to hear.

 I. Was. Wrong.

Yeppers, I was wrong. Totally wrong. Just when you think you have the mom thing down, God throws a little monkey into the whole business and makes you realize that you always need daily grace in parenting.

The Little General, he can throw the charm on. Of course, he bats his baby blues, snuggles into my arms and plays bashful if you talk with him. But the minute I let him loose, he runs waving his hands up in the air like a chimp and yells loudly. If I pick him up, he screams ~ blood. curdling. makes your ears ring. screaming.

Non of my children ever screamed like this.

Please God, let non of my next children scream like this.

Of course, for as confident as I come off in parenting and what ever else you may think, when this babe is screaming and running around in say, a moms meeting at church during the guest speakers message, my mind plays tricks on me with the thoughts of others.

"Get that child under control..."
"Isn't that her third kid?"
"Do you think she knows what she is doing?"
"You are kidding me, she says she wants more?"

I choose to giggle to myself and keep a reminder of the fact that this too shall end. Even if I did strap him down to a chair or placed a leash on him, he'd still scream. In the meantime, I'm considering an investment in ear plugs and wishing for a little more success in the weightloss department as I tackle down my Little General!