Seth: Our Made for Heaven Baby

In the shower that morning, the thought first struck me: “What if this baby was made for Heaven?” As my mind expanded on the thought, I wondered: what if this baby was not made to live on this earth? What if this baby was not made to take in his first breath of air? What if this baby, our 7th baby, was a Sabbath Baby, a baby set apart just for the Lord? What if this baby..... Lying on the ultrasound table, the doppler scanned over my baby and stopped. I knew. No heartbeat. Just the form of a tiny baby. The tech referred to him as ‘the evidence of a pregnancy’. I knew him as my baby. The tears rolled. The heart pounded. The ache began. And yet, even then, “this baby was made for Heaven” penetrated the pain. The ache, the deep, raw, gut wrenching ache. From my journal, the day after we saw no heartbeat: “Sorrow and grief, the death of one you love, it is like a fence post that lies in the path of a growing tree. We must grow around it until it becomes a part of who we are. We cannot simply stop growing nor can we move it for God has allowed it to be there and it becomes a part of us and we grow through it. It may cause some scarring and it may prevent us from growing the way we would have without it. But nonetheless, we grow. The death of my precious, tiny baby, it will never go away. It is part of who I am and I will grow around it.” 10 days were spent crying, talking to brothers and sisters, crying some more, knitting a soft, tiny blanket, building a little, tiny box with a cross on it, crying still some more, praying, hurting, rejoicing, deciding on a name, answering questions from little people trying to wrap their brains around it, asking questions to a big God as I tried to wrap MY brain around it. 10 days of waiting. 10 days of cradling his physical body in my womb, knowing full well that he was not there. He had begun his eternity. Solid promises to stand on. His name: Seth. Appointed. Our Baby Seth was appointed for Heaven, set apart, #7. His life was lived in full because it is God, alone, who numbers our days. Not cut short, not gone too soon. Lived in full, to completion, just as God intended right from the beginning. Another note from my journal, written while waiting for my body to deliver his: “Yesterday I was considering where I was and what I was doing when little Seth’s heart beat for the last time. Again, God has given me such assurance that from the moment he was conceived, God had that last heart beat planned, just as He has planned for all my children. My other children, Lord willing, will grow up and live long lives and I may not be there when their heart beats for the last time. But when Baby Seth’s heart beat for the last time, he was sweetly cradled in my warm, comforting, peaceful womb. He went straight from that beautiful sanctuary to the ultimate Sanctuary”. Our family began to prepare for the birth of Baby Seth’s body. I shopped for the softest of yarn and fabric to cradle his little body in (I am here to testify that no yarn or fabric is soft enough to hold your precious baby’s body. None. It simply doesn’t exist. Perhaps only the wings of angels could possibly be soft enough). Craig built a little wooden box with a cross on top. The children drew pictures. Kaleb wrote a song. I cherished the moments I had with his body in my womb, knowing it was all I would ever have of him. In many ways, many, many ways, I did not want my body to let him go. I would never get to stroke his soft, downy head or be mesmerized by his curled up little toes. I would never get to smile at his fuzzy shoulders or stroke his clenched fist. All I would ever have were these moments when my body cradled his until God said it was time. And so, as strange as it sounds, I cherished them. And yet, the waiting was hard. It was right. But it was hard. After a particularly hard day, Craig apologized for ruining my day. With a pain-soaked heart, I responded, “You didn’t ruin my day. Waiting to give birth to a dead baby ruined my day”. I later wrote in my journal: “Baby and death do not belong in the same sentence. Baby Seth wasn’t old and he wasn’t sick (as far as I know). Birth, not death, was the logical next step. But somewhere deep in my heart, I KNOW that something bigger than logic is in charge.” The day before my body went into labor, I cried out to the Lord: “Lord Jesus, rescue me not from sorrow and pain, for You, Yourself, walked with and through those, and more than I ever will. Rescue me, not from death, for death, YOUR death, is what brought eternal life. Rescue me, instead, from despair. I have hope....because of You.” Ten days after I laid on that table at Longview Radiology, the wait was over. The labor pains began. His tiny blanket was still on my knitting needles, waiting to be cast off. His wooden box was ready. All the children were tucked in their beds. I had the night hours all to myself. And my body did what it was created to do: it gave birth to a baby, my baby. Our made-for-Heaven Baby Seth. We held his tiny body, so very tiny. We studied his features: his little hands and feet, his tiny head, his eyes. So fresh from the easel of God, a masterpiece! Tears blurred our sight and we wiped them away. Sobs escaped and we let them. Praise came and we proclaimed the goodness of our God. After his birth was complete, I sat on the edge of my bed and casted off Seth’s blanket. My tears flowed, my heart rejoiced and ached all at once. As the last stitch came off my needle, I had an overwhelming sense: “It is finished”. A tiny blanket, much tinier then any I had ever seen. Not enough stitches...”not enough days, weeks, months, years!”, my heart cried! That overwhelming sense: “It is finished. He lived his life in full. Complete”. I covered his tiny body, tucked the softest, though not soft enough, yarn around him, baby blue just for him. It is finished. The children began to stir as the early morning hours arrived. The oldest came first. They asked to see Baby Seth and we tenderly and reverently showed them. God’s masterpiece! We were privileged, you know. Their tears fell, mixed with a silent, deafening awe. We huddled around him, this precious family unit of ours. We wept, we rejoiced. And we placed the lid with the wooden cross on the box. In church on Sunday, just two days later, we sang: “When the stars burn down and the earth wears out; And we stand before the throne; With the witnesses who have gone before; We will rise and all applaud; Sing blessing and honor and glory and power forever to our God”. The tears fell like a flood. He had gone before. He was home. Heaven was sweeter now. Craig shared with me that we had one down, six more to go. As parents, we labor and pray and yearn for our children to walk with the Lord and join us in eternity. Seth’s already there. One down, six more to go. Several days later I was driving by the lake in our town. My heart was overcome by a desperate yearning for this baby of mine that I never got to know. A yearning unlike any I had ever felt; a desperate, “I would do just about anything to hold him, to know him, to touch him, to sing to him” yearning. It hurt. It hurt like the dickens. And then God’s still, small voice in my heart: “That yearning. Its powerful, isn’t it? Almost takes your breath away. I know. Because that’s how I feel about those that don’t know Me yet. I am desperate to hold them, to know them, to touch their hearts. So desperate that I stopped at nothing to save them: I gave the only Son I had to do it. I KNOW that desperate longing. Its how I felt about you before you came to know Me and trust Me. And its how I feel about them. You, walking in this valley right now, just got to share in my pain. But your longing is for Baby Seth’s life here on earth. My longing for you, for them, is for eternity. Can you catch just a glimpse of My heart?” I was floored. Truly. And I praised the Lord for Baby Seth’s life and what He was teaching me through it. During this walk through the valley of grief, I learned the value of simply crying with another. My mom and dad held me on the front porch one evening, not saying a word, just crying, joining me in my sorrow, in my pain, missing their grandson as I was missing my son. Our pastor and his wife, who have at least two babies made for Heaven waiting for them, showed up on our doorstep one morning with a box of doughnuts for the kids and arms for me. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they hurt right along with me. The most precious ladies in the world, ladies who were a part of my growth group at church, sat around a table with me, listened to me recount the events and made no attempt to even wipe the tears that soaked every cheek in the room. They didn’t try to cheer me up, they didn’t try to ‘there, there, it will be okay’, they just simply felt my pain WITH me and praised the Lord WITH me as He propped me up with His promises. A couple of dear friends, having babies waiting for them in Heaven, walked the road with me, answering questions, giving practical suggestions, and simply crying with me. I have a new understanding for those who have gone or will go through a miscarriage. We hate to see people hurting. We really do. But oh, the healing power of coming alongside and joining in the pain! Its profound. Six months have passed. Today would have been Baby Seth’s due date. The lead up to the day, and the day itself, was much harder than I had anticipated. Because I am so sure, so absolutely certain, that he lived his life in full, just as God had intended, I assumed this day would be just like any other. Assumptions are foolish and as a friend wrote just today, “grief has no rules”. Just as Baby Seth was made for Heaven, my heart was made to love my children and want my children. That’s the mother-heart God has given me. And so the tears have rolled down my cheeks and my heart feels sore, perhaps a bit bruised. All day the hymn that our youth worship team has been practicing lately is on repeat in my head: “Standing on the promises I cannot fall;
Listening every moment to the Spirit’s call; Resting in my Savior as my all in all,
Standing on the promises of God.” It may come as a shock, but I would not undo Baby Seth’s death. I would never, in a million years, choose it. Ever. But I wouldn’t undo it. I know the powerful comfort of the Lord like I have NEVER known before. I know that His truth is a rock-solid foundation like I have never known before. I know the sanctity of life like I have never known before. I know the yearning heart of God for His children like I have never known before. I know a peace that passes understanding like I have NEVER known before. I have always been deathly afraid of losing someone I love; like keep me awake at night, break out in a cold sweat, kind of afraid. It took the death of my baby to make me not afraid of death. As a sweet friend, having also gone through a miscarriage, said, “Its worth it, isn’t it?” Yes, it is. I will forever be grateful that God chose ME to be the vessel of an eternal soul, a baby made for Heaven. I got to cradle his little life until Jesus ushered him into Heaven. It was while nestled in MY womb that his heart beat for the first time....and the last time. Our whole family has been and continues to be profoundly impacted and blessed by the gift of Baby Seth. If you ask our children how many kids are in our family, they will always say seven. He is included in nearly every family portrait our girls draw. Even Jacob, who is far too young to understand anything that went on, will occasionally say, “Baby Seth...awwwwwww”. While my heart will ache for the baby whose soft, downy head I never got to caress, my heart will also praise God for the gift of Baby Seth, our made for Heaven baby.

She's Here

Blossom And Branches Birth Announcement

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Traditions!

Traditions....

I still don't even feel old enough to have traditions that are my very own! Nonetheless, after 14 years of marriage and nearly 11 years of parenting, they have snuck in without me even noticing. I'm so very fond of them! Here are a few of my very favorite Christmas traditions:

* 'Twas the Night Before Christmas:

Actually, for us, it usually falls on the eve of Christmas Eve and it began long before we had children. Craig and I began sleeping underneath the Christmas tree, snuggled up beneath warm sleeping bags, truly the coziest place in the house. As children came along, we nestled them down with us. As MORE children came along, they squeezed us out of our original spots and claimed the place underneath the evergreen as their own.....We now fall asleep near them, cherishing the soft glow of the Christmas lights on their cherub-like faces. This remains one of my very favorite of all traditions. Someday when we live in a bigger house, or we have less children in our home, Craig and I will return to our original places underneath the tree. But for now, its one of the most precious sights I see all year long, my children lined up in a row, nestled down in their sleeping bags beneath the Christmas tree. You really ought to try it sometime! That place beneath the tree....its nearly magical.* Our Christmas Books:

I'm not even sure how this tradition began but over the years, we have collected a handful of children's books related to Christmas in some fashion. I keep these books in a basket and they ONLY come out at Christmas time. The children have so much fun looking at and reading these books. Often, they have forgotten about them and so its like opening up a new gift each year. We've got "Hannah and the Manger" (one of Hannah's personal favorites), Eloise Wilkins' "The Christmas Story", Jan Brett's "Gingerbread Friends", Karma Wilson and Jane Chapman's "Mortimer's Christmas Manger" and another by the same authors, "Bear Stays Up for Christmas", Susan Wojciechowski's "The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey", and even an I Spy Christmas. Some of them have been given as gifts, some of them were scores at the local Goodwill and some of them just seemed to appear. I have tried hard to weed out 'silly' books and keep my stash limited to books that really pertain to the birth of Jesus (though I must admit that "Spot's First Christmas", a book given to Kaleb when he was 2 years old, has kept its spot in the Christmas book basket if for no other reason than sentimentality). I enjoy this tradition along with the children, their little (and not so little, these days) bodies snuggled up next to me, reading the stories they've heard for years now and cracking open a new one here and there that has earned its place in the beloved basket.

*The Christmas Parade:

Complete with hot chocolate and a yummy snack of some sort, bundled up almost to the point of uncomfortable, I line them up on a curb downtown and we watch the Christmas Parade go by. Always at night, the lights and the music are spectacular and we do our best to stay until either gloved hands are finally frozen or Santa wraps it up with a mighty "Ho, ho, ho" that echos against the dark, winter sky. The children look forward to this every year, and I will readily admit that I DON'T because almost every year Craig has to work that evening and its a lot of hard work to get the gang bundled, loaded, unloaded, shuffled, nourished, safe, loaded, unloaded, and unbundled all by myself but I do it, nonetheless, because who could say no to these beautiful faces?!?! (Sadly, for them anyway, we had to miss it this year because Noah had a whopping headache and you just can't do something like the Christmas Parade when you're down a player.)

* O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree:

One last tradition, and truly one of my very favorites, and then its your turn. Our parents have continued a tradition that they both started with us when we were children. Each year, they give each of us a Christmas ornament often pertaining to something eventful that happened within that particular year. When one of them learned to ride a bike, they received a bike ornament. When one of them took ballet, played soccer, showed a chicken in the county fair, etc, they received a coordinating ornament. One year, Sarah got a goose because one of her nicknames is Goose. The year our first daughter was born, Craig got a cigar with pink details on it. When I was the mother of just two small male children I received an ornament that said, "Mothers of boys work from son up 'til son down!". Opening up the ornament bin and placing them on our tree is truly like reading the pages of a family journal. Memories come flooding in, not only for me, but now also for the children. The little girls wonder where 'this one came from' and the big boys smile with delight, "Oh I remember THIS one!" It is my hope that these historical accounts in the shapes of motorcycles and little rubber boots and turtles and ballerinas will be passed down, along with their stories, to generations to come.

So there are just a few of my favorite Christmas traditions. I'd love to hear some of yours! I really would! Either share a few of them with me in the comments or better yet, use this as fodder for your own blog post and leave me a note telling me that you've blogged about them and I'll go read it! Its always fun to hear other families' traditions and it'll warm your heart to ponder on them for a few minutes!

A Short Explanation

Well, now that things are officially private, I'll clue you in on my reason for making the change. A few weeks ago, I noticed that two new readers were 'following' my blog. I didn't recognize their names as friends of mine, thus checked out their profiles which led to checking out their blogs. One reader was from Malaysia, one was from the UK and both appeared to be Islamic extremist women who made it clear that they felt very strongly about their beliefs, one of them being that Americans, specifically Christian Americans, were an insult to their faith. Um....yeah. So maybe the TSA isn't into profiling but I AM! I have no idea how they found my blog or why they were interested in following it and I wasn't going to stick around to find out. Call me paranoid, but I suddenly became very uncomfortable with Islamic extremists from half way around the world knowing my children's names, my husband's name, what they looked like, etc. The "Pollyanna" part of me wonders if just maybe they were interested in Christianity and were there out of curiosity. But the large majority of me just felt very uncomfortable.

So there you have it! Now things are private and I can continue as before:).

Going Private

I'm going to go private with this blog so if you would like to continue reading it, please send me your email! Thanks:)

Recent Adventures

The boys had a WONDERFUL time recently at Tree to Tree Adventure Park. This was a birthday gift to my husband, who can be very difficult to shop for. After all, you can't really expect your mother-in-law to go to the local U-Pull-It to find some funky part of a transmission for your Suburban, can you? These are the types of things that would be on Craig's wish list, if he had one! Anyway, the gift was a HIT and Noah and Kaleb enjoyed it as well. They are all planning and dreaming about the next time we can go! And just for the record, us girls kept our feet firmly planted on the ground:).

And just for your viewing pleasure, I present to you a nearly 8 month old Jacob! If we loved this little Bubba-Stinky any more, we all just might explode.

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of attending an Above Rubies retreat in Turner, Oregon. Nancy Campbell's message was more timely than you could even know. She spoke about the tactics the enemy used to try to deter the people from rebuilding the temple (from Ezra and Nehemiah) and how the enemy uses the same tactics today to try to prevent Christians from building families that seek to glorify Christ. Things like discouragement and fear and accusations and doubts. The list of 10 things was so very applicable to life as a wife and mother. Satan hates families, he really does. This weekend encouraged me to recognize the tactics of my enemy. He is sly and cunning but when exposed to the light of Christ, he is also powerless! Anyway, my friend took some sweet pictures from the retreat but I can't figure out how to download them so if you'd like to see them, you'll have to visit my friend Emily's blog!

And just a quick update: I'm now 22 weeks along and I cannot believe how fast this pregnancy is going. Just had a prenatal last week and Sweet Baby was doing wonderfully! I often look at Jacob and am amazed that at this time next year, I'll have another baby (Lord willing) the very same age as he is now! And you'd think by now I'd have this figured out, but I can't believe I will be able to love this new little one as much as I do the Fantastic Five! It just blows my mind! I love all of them so VERY much and it seems impossible that I could ever love anyone else as much as I love them. But then.... that precious life emerges and I hold him/her close and there I go again, falling wildly and madly in love. It truly is amazing! A mother's heart really is never full!

A VERY Thought-Provoking Post

If you are not familiar with the blog, Generation Cedar, you're missing out! This post, especially, has my wheels spinning. Very, VERY thought- provoking.....

Divine Appointment: Babies are a Part of the Gospel Picture

No Time for Bon-Bons Today!

Helping Momma wash jars...

Apple seconds from Hood River: $0.25/lb! Makes me smile...

The simple beauty of sparkling clean canning jars...

Thelma is doing what Thelma loves most: cookin' up a storm...

I know my grandma would be tickled pink to know that I'm STILL using her Foley Food Mill...

And 17 quarts later...

But no Bon-bons yet! Craig's birthday dinner: Manicotti...

Yummy, says the whole crew...

No birthday for Craig is complete without an apple pie! I'll never make them as perfect as his mom's, but then again, a wife should NEVER make apple pie better than her husband's mother...

And after such a day, Jacob wonders if he can come out now...

Jacob's First Autumn

Convicted or Condemned

I've been thinking about the difference between condemnation and conviction lately. A house is condemned; a criminal is convicted. These are the situations where we hear these words used most frequently. I am neither a house (though ask me in about 4 more months and I may tell you that I feel like one) nor am I a criminal. But condemnation and conviction effect me on a daily basis. So what's the difference between the two?

It seems to me, for starters, that conviction occurs with the purpose of repenting and restoring while condemnation occurs with the purpose of destroying and obliterating. We convict a criminal of a crime with the hope of punishing him in such a way that he will regret his actions and choose not to repeat them ever again, thus restoring him to the status of law-abiding citizen. We condemn a structure because it is no longer deemed safe and thus must be destroyed. There is hope for the criminal but all hope is lost for the house. I think I'd rather be the criminal:).

So then, who does the condemning and who does the convicting in my life? Well, the obvious answer is that Satan condemns and Jesus convicts. There's more to it than that, though, as I am discovering while digging into the treasure chest that God's Word is. But alas, the baby is wanting some attention. Perhaps a Part 2 will be necessary!

Sarah Grace: A Snapshot

Sarah Gracie, with salsa on your mug, look at your momma!

Gracie, I wanted to take a NICE picture of you!!!

You're ornery through and through, Girlie!!!!

This girl of ours is something else! She was a perfect angel for the first three months of her life; every mother's dream come true baby! Easy going, hardly ever cried, put herself to sleep when she was tired and cute as a button. And then..... We're still looking for the individual who flipped her switch! From about 4 months to about 15 months the girl drove us batty!!!!! She cried, whined, complained, fussed, wailed and sobbed and she did it all very, very loudly. She wanted to be held, BY ME, all the time and so I did, simply to provide our home with a little peace and quiet. Praise the Lord, and I really, really do mean that, we all lived through her first year. Now, here she is, three years old and what we've got is that perfect angel mixed with that little stinkpot all in one incredibly delightful package. She's sweet as can be and ornerier than all get out.

Our very latest talker, we still can't understand about 1/4 of what she says (which is a vast improvement, believe me). We constantly wonder what we've agreed to as she rattles on and on about who knows what and we politely nod our heads in consent. She'll attempt any word under the sun (today she tried her linguistics out on the word 'competition') but oh, how we wish she would have been born with an interpreter. In fact, for quite some time my mother described her as the foreign exchange student:). And it was the perfect description.

Around here she's known as the Chicken Whisperer. She can cuddle and pet nearly any bird in the flock of 22 with seemingly little effort while they run for their lives from the rest of us. She is fascinated with horses and is certain that every single one is "Spir-dit", the horse from her very favorite movie by a similar name ("Spirit"). She grosses us out on a regular basis by holding pet slugs and other various outdoor creatures. We all laid down the law, however, when she marched in the house with a daddy long leg in her hand!

Sounding a bit on the tom-boyish side, isn't she? Don't be fooled. The girl LOVES anything that smells pretty, can be found on a daily basis nursing her wee little babies, and is the first of my children to inherit my ability to cry at the same movie over and over again! She and Hannah love to play "House" and Sarah always gets the role of "Christy", the young daughter.

Miss Sarah Grace is busy from the moment she rises until the moment she crashes and yet still, her very favorite place to be in the whole wide world is snuggled up on my lap with a lock of my hair in her little hand. She keeps me on my toes (and I have a hunch its only just begun!) and I simply cannot imagine my life without her.

Nicknames

I'm not quite sure how it happens, this metamorphose of names. We don't ever intend to come up with these crazy nicknames! They just happen....

That being said, I'd like to introduce you to Bubba! Of course, his full name is Bubba Stinky, also known as Bubbsie-Boy or Bubbsie, for short. Occasionally, Bubba morphs into Bubbaloni which then causes us all to break out into song:

"My Bubbaloni has a first name

Its J-A-C-O-B

My Bubbaloni has a second name

Its A-A-R-O-N

We love to eat him every day

And if you ask us while we'll saaaaayyyyyy.....

Jacob Aaron is the sweetest boyyyyyyyyyyyy"

Sometimes, Bubba evolves into Bubba-Rootsie, a name born from Daddy's song that goes something like this( sung to the tune of "Allouette"):

"Bubba-Rootsie

Stinky, stinky tootsie

Bubba-Rootsie

Stinky, stinky toots"

Once in a blue moon, if he's lucky, we simply call him "Jacobeeee" or "Jakey-Poo".

Now he really isn't stinky; in fact, I think he smells delicious right down to his (stinky) little toes. And I'm sure we won't call him Bubba-Stinky when he's 18. But for now, he's our sweet Bubbsie-Boy....and that's just how it is!

A Fancy for Forts

Blankets and chairs; couch cushions and pillows; clothes pins, sleeping bags, tea sets and imaginations. That's all one really needs to transform my living room into some form of organized chaos! It will do nothing for the editors of the latest Pottery Barn catalog but it does WONDERS for the Fantastic Five!

The only time you'll ever catch Kaleb with a pink blanket over his head!

Always the hospitable one, Hannah was prepared to tend to the hungry builders.

Smiling eyes...Oh, the delight of a fort!

She was mid-sentence. A conversation with the make-believer.

You are NEVER too old to build a fort! In fact, at this point, you are engineering a masterpiece!

Little Boy Blue Eyes was busy building, too!

Chip of the Ol' Block

She's a chip off the ol' block, I guess. Does anybody recall this event? Last night for dinner I made a lovely Chicken and Biscuits Casserole, complete with biscuits made containing cream cheese! How could you go wrong? My sweet, darling little Hannah came in from outside just as I was pulling dinner from the oven. She turned up her petite little freckled nose and announced with great concern: "Mom, something smells like poo-poo!" Yes, dear Girl, that would be your dinner......

I thought it smelled rather comfort-foodish! Should have just stuck with Mac and Cheese, I guess.

Here Comes My Dad!!!

I was recently reading Psalm 18 in a snippet of time that I had between changing diapers and teaching fractions. Have you read it recently? It may have just been my mood that day, but it actually made me laugh right out loud. David is in the midst of anguish, going so far as to say that the sorrow of Hell surround him. It is obvious that his enemy (who just happens to be the same enemy that we have today) was having a hay-day with him. In verse 6 he says, "In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried out to my God". It goes on to say that God heard his voice all the way from His temple and that his cry came before Him, even to His ears. And then the fun begins! God gets MAD!!!!! He's so mad He's breathing smoke (I think I may have felt nearly that mad once or twice) and fire is coming from His mouth. But He doesn't just stay up there in His temple, steaming. Oh, no! He comes on down and takes care of business. He sends hailstones and fire and arrows. The earth shook, the hills quaked...all because God was angry! He swoops down from His temple and He rescues this one that He loves so very much. Its a beautiful, powerful, amazing Psalm.

The day I read it, I had this brief 'vision' (doesn't that sound lofty? Don't be impressed! I think it came to me in the bathroom:) ) of this little boy being tormented by the playground bully. Truly, terribly tormented. Picked on and belittled and ridiculed and tortured until finally the little boy calls out, "Daaaaddddddyyyyyy!!!!!!!! Help!!!!!!!!!!!!!". Suddenly an unsettling silence envelopes the playground followed by the distant sound of thunder growing closer at an alarming rate. The little boy looks up with a new found courage and looks straight into the scowling eyes of the bully. "You've had it now. Here comes my dad!"

Isn't that how it is with our Abba Father? Oh, that I could have the daring confidence that David did and the little boy in my vision did! Next time Satan is tormenting me, dragging me lower than low, I hope I remember this and cry out, "Daaaaadddddyyyyyy!!!! Help!!!! and then, with confidence and expectation, say to my enemy, "You better watch out NOW! Here comes my Dad!!!!!"

The Real Education

"Remember, the Word of God prepares us for every good work-

the periodic table won't help a bit"

I really love this quote by R.C. Sproul Jr. from his book, "When You Rise Up". It has reminded me again, or shall I say "convicted" me again, of where my focus really needs to be in educating my children.

You can feel the excitement in the air this time of year, whether your children compute their math at your dining room table or amongst 20 other desks in a tidy schoolroom. Brand new backpacks, pencils with erasers still intact, notebooks that have yet to be dog-eared and softened by use. Garage doors opening in unison at approximately 8:23am. A certain chill in the mornings tells us that its school time.

But what's it all about? We get excited to crack open the new textbook, or try out the new science curriculum, or meet the new teacher. Our hearts race just a bit as we introduce the new letter for the day or listen to our child recant the poem they learned or watch them do long division for the first time.

Kevin Swanson (http://www.generationswithvision.com/) says that if our children know Saxon Math better than they do Proverbs, they are not being properly educated. Ouch! He's so very right, though! Regardless of where our children receive their education, discipling our children MUST be our very top priority, above all other things! Voddie Baucham (http://www.voddiebaucham.org/vbm/home.html), a pastor whom we have learned much from, and respect greatly, made one of the most convicting statements I have ever heard regarding my goal as a parent. He says that he is not preparing his children for college. He's preparing them for Eternity!

In educating our children, we cannot be short-sighted. We cannot forget that a high school diploma and a college education are not the goal. They aren't! If that's what we're striving for in our hearts, with our time and with our pocket books, we are failing our children and the God who entrusted them to us. Even in their education, we must be so careful to not get wrapped around the axle storing up treasures that moth and rust (or a down turn of the economy) can destroy at the expense of storing up eternal treasures that are INDESTRUCTIBLE (Matt. 6:19).

Littlest Love

The Endless Pursuit

An unsatisfied pursuit. It always starts there, this break down. Every story that shares the same ending starts there. A chasing after that which can never be caught. It becomes a relentless, addictive chase. The further one runs, the more distorted the past becomes until finally, the runner is convinced that..... "I never loved you". The chasing after "me". One cannot serve two masters. One cannot serve self and others. The burden of service becomes too heavy in the shadow of "me". The grass becomes greener. In the pursuit of happiness and satisfaction, one turns their back on all that could ever quench such a thirst. A child's smile, a husband's safe embrace, a wife's tender touch, the peaceful routine, it ceases to become enough. It IS enough but "me" casts a shadow once more, distorts the joy and tranquility and security and delight. Eyes begin to search beyond the Home's walls for something to satisfy "me". The unsatisfied pursuit. "Me" is greedy, a hunger that can never be made full. An empty belly that only becomes emptier in the pursuit. It will never be enough. The pursuit becomes desperate, unreasonable even. One sheds anything, maybe everything, to chase satisfaction. Leaves them broken, shattered, along the way........in this unsatisfied, Endless Pursuit.

His Word says it 5 times. His life lived it innumerably. "For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it...". He knew. He knew that His Way offered freedom and joy everlasting. And yet still, we choose the endless pursuit. We let the pursuit break our hearts and break our homes. We chase after it until we have run so far from everything we ever knew that we loose our way back. Our enemy throws his wicked head back and laughs.

Fold the laundry one more time. Pick up the toys one more time. Pack his lunch one more time. Lift your chin up and smile one more time. Wipe the fevered brow, tickle the tender belly, rise out of bed in the mid of the night, chop the onion, play the game, read the story, listen to the days' events with keen interest, and on and on the list goes. Each time, deliberately and with passion, do it. Turn your back on the Endless Pursuit.

Don't shed them.........

Shed YOU.

If you have run so far from everything you knew that you've lost your way back, there is a Way. He loves you, He longs to lead you home. He has already poured His blood out for this Endless Pursuit. Let His blood cover your chasing after that which will never satisfy. Let His blood wash you and make you clean.

Hannah Joy...

First she did this...

Hannah turns five on a warm summer day,

The day her long awaited sunflower burst open to face the sun,

Full of joy,

Like our Hannah Joy...

Then she did this...

After much anticipation

And waiting for the mail to bring her books;

After gathering her supplies and tucking them neatly in their box;

After a few years of watching The Brothers

Read and Write and Compute....

Its HER turn.

At 6:30 this morning, her little sleepy body was perched on the couch

Greeting me as I stumbled for the shower.

"Can we start school now, Momma?"

I held her off until chores were complete

And breakfast was fed

And Baby was napping.

Then we dove in....

With delight!

What Its Like...

Would you like to know what its like to be three months pregnant and nearly 6 months postpartum all at the same time? Well, in a nutshell, its wonderful!!! I'm not making that up, either!!!!!

One of my biggest 'concerns' about being pregnant so soon after being pregnant was how I would handle feeling crummy while mothering an infant. I was so sick with Jacob, as in lay-in-bed-for-a-few-months sick with 24 hour nausea, every.single.day. The thought of having a baby to care for while feeling that way was overwhelming, to say the least. I went before the throne of the One who loves me so and I presented a request for an easy pregnancy to Him. I knew full well that He could have very well said "No" for reasons I may not have understood but could trust in, nonetheless. I hope with all my heart that I would, indeed, have trusted Him fully had He said no. But He said yes, and I am so grateful!!!!

I have even been without some of my very usual early pregnancy complaints! Heartburn seems to be my nemesis almost from conception. Not an ounce of it! Sciatic pain also seems to announce its presence from early on. Not even a mention of it, so far! And as for the nausea? Oh, its been there but its been so much more manageable, visiting me only in the mornings (as morning sickness should!) and behaving itself if I'm sure to eat often and eat enough. I am now 12 weeks and the nausea is making its departure, unlike my past two pregnancies where it lingered well into my 4th month.

I have discovered something else in the midst of this pregnancy. I have found a lovely, wonderfully sweet, perfectly effective therapy for morning sickness and first trimester blahs. Its this:

How in the world could I feel too miserable when THIS is the sweet face I have to look at? Even the nausea relents a bit when I have THIS constant reminder, not too far from the womb himself, of what its all for? I'm not making this stuff up! Of all the herbs, teas, homeopathics, vitamins, etc. that I've taken over the course of 6 pregnancies, THIS sweet face has proven to be the most effective!

So, that's what its like to be 3 months pregnant while mothering a 5 1/2 month old! God is so very good!