Hook, Line & STINKER

The Stig and I have tried to keep up with the Texas pilgrimage of loading our kids in the car, eyes to the bar-ditch, looking for just the right field of bluebonnets to take our annual pictures in.
This year was no exception. We all wore white t-shirts (and can I just tell you how stressful 2 kids and white shirts can be if I let it!?!?) and blue jeans as we headed out into the wild blue yonder to find the perfect place.
The Stig and I are chatting comfortably in the front seat, while Sammy & Dean serenade the girls in the back (nothing like the Rat Pack to set a peaceful mood.) It's one of those times when you have your husband's undivided attention - and I was "All IN" - keeping with the Texas theme... (vague reference to Texas Hold 'Em.) I'm telling him about what I think we should do about the drainage situation at the house, how I believe that we really should try to plant the tomatoes in the ground rather than in containers because everyone tells me it's so much better, and how I've decided its really time to "Blog or get off the Pot!"
E is resting quietly in her booster seat, thumb firmly set in her snaggle-toothed mouth. But "A" is babbling not stop (I have no idea where she gets it!?!?) She is talking to her hand, and to her sister. She is asking about the length of our car ride, her hair and when we're going to get a snow-cone (I'm thinking, in that shirt... Never.) She barely takes a breath before she launches into "I Set Fire to the Rain" at full voice, while Frank croons softly through the car speakers. I reach forward to turn down the noise and realize it's "A"... I ask her politely, to please sing quieter. She sees this as a perfect opportunity to engage me in mindless chatter (she has no idea that this is MY time to fill the Stig's ear!)
I turn to her and ask what she wants. And the little three year old STINKER says, "Oh, nothing Momma. I don't even know what I'm saying... I just wanted you to hear me."
Isn't that really what we all want? To be heard. Jonah, from the belly of the fish said, "I called out to the Lord, out of my distress, and He answered me; out of the belly of  Sheol I cried, and you heard my voice." (Sheol being the realm of the dead - Jonah 2:2)
I wanted the Stig to hear me. "A" wanted her momma to hear her. And we, the children of the Most High God want to be heard. Fun part is He wants us to call on Him... and He wants to answer us too!
I guess the real question is will we take the bait? When we're given the time, will we take God at His word and share with Him our deepest hopes and dreams, our common everyday problems, and our funny little stories?
Today Lord, I want to take you Hook, Line & Sinker (with a side of stinker too!)
Reel time... More of you and less of me.

My Knight in Orange Crocs

This morning started like most school mornings; alarm clock, snooze button, bible study & iced tea, (I never have caught on to that coffee thing - just give me an iced beverage and "Katie-bar-the-door"!) We'd had our snuggle-ups, and were in the midst of the morning rush -  downing breakfast, donning the uniforms and getting in the car.
Monday's are my Sabbath. My day of rest. My time set aside to recharge. So on Mondays the Stig takes the wheel in the carpool line. I get A&E ready for school and out the door, and he pretty much handles things from there.
So E's dawdling over a bowl of rice krispies and bemoaning the fact that I only allow ONE tablespoon of sugar to be added to the milk/cereal mixture. "A" has chosen pop-tarts (I know... the breakfast of champions) and as God would have it, ran from the kitchen because nature was calling.  I am standing next to the fridge, swathed in my fluffy pink towel wrap getting the last of the lunches packed. I shut the door on the fridge, hear an awful sliding noise, feel something heavy hit my left kidney, and then the sound of shattering glass and the skittering of 1,000,852 pieces of glass as they trail across my tile floor.
Before I really have time to process what has happened, I scream. And I don't mean the sweet, "Honey? Can you come into the kitchen for a sec?" I mean SCREAM for the Stig. It was guttural, it was full of fear and it was not in the slightest bit sweet. I knew I was cut, but I had no idea what my real injuries were. I was imagining (at the speed of light) all manner of things.
It was at this point that I realized that E was still in the room. I calmed my voice and told her, in no uncertain terms, to stay put. The Stig comes flying into the room, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, as I hear the water for his shower heating up, and "A" singing to herself (probably into a hairbrush at the bathroom mirror.)
The Stig takes one look at the situation and sees that I am barefoot and bleeding. He tells me where to put my foot down, throws me a towel to staunch the bleeding (which all by the way were just nicks & grazes - no real damage) and leads me out of the kitchen.
I look back at E who is munching away at Snap*Crackle*&Pop, say a quick thank you prayer that she was way out of the line of shrapnel and that "A" for all intents and purposes is indisposed with an audition for American Bathroom Idol.
And it hits me... right between the eyes, as my husband runs for his orange Crocs (did I blog that out loud?), and sweeps up my mess, still with the toothbrush firmly gripped in his mouth. I'm not doing this alone. This man is so good to me. When I screamed, he came running. He is so precious to me - but how often I forget.
I have two friends who right now, because of life/work situations are separated from their husbands. What would they have done this morning if the glass top to their cake pedestal had fallen off their refrigerators. Would they have skyped their husbands mid-scream? Would they have reached for their cell phones before the broom? Probably not. They would have braved the wreckage, rolled up their sleeves (because who really runs around in a fluffy pink towel wrap in the mornings, right?) and gotten the job done.
I am blessed beyond belief. Most days I know it. Some days I need reminders. Today was a noisy, bloody reminder - that man is to be cherished and loved. He is to be respected both in my words and in the tone of them. He is to be honored in his home and outside as well. He is mine - and I must take care of what had been given to me.
One of my devotions, Proverbs 31 Ministries posted to Facebook today, "In the way we talk, think and act... 'Be kind to each other, tenderhearted... (and forgiving)'" Ephesians 4:32 Oh, sweet friend how I needed to be reminded of that today!
So tonight, as I set the table for our Celebration Dinner (it was report card weekend - and we're celebrating progress both big & small, academic & character driven) I'm going to make sure I find a way to honor the Stig... my hero. Maybe an aluminum foil crown - for my knight in shining armor. Who came to my rescue today! And maybe as we sit around the table, eating hot dogs by candle light, I'll find just the right words to tell him again how very much I love him!
I'm heading in to mop the floor by hand - I think I only picked up 1,000,843 pieces of glass and we all know there really were 1,000,852! On my knees Lord, more of you and less of me!

Tooting my own horn...

Our morning drive to school this week found the girls and I grooving to the tune of our favorite "pump you up" song Ready to Go! We'd cracked open the sun roof on "Surely Goodness" (the name of our RED Jetta - the white one is called "Mercy".) The Lessner girls were singing full voice and rocking the choreography!
With one hand on the wheel, I was mentally organizing my "to-do" list for the day, refereeing a debate in the back seat about who got to pick the next song, calling out spelling words to E! while assuring "A" that in fact she would be putting on her socks and shoes when we arrived at school. Oh... and I was cleaning out my purse (having just finished applying my mascara in the rear view mirror - I moved on to the purse purge because that's what I do at red lights.)
"Backpack"... "Wintertime"... (*insert words of encouragement here*) take a sip of water and a vitamin... "Yes, 'A' you have to wear socks..." My hands were no where near 10 OR 2 as I dug deeper into the purse; one dead receipt for bread and nail polish, the remains of snacks long since consumed by my children, loose change... HONK!
I look around thinking, "What goober honked at me?" The girls chimed in with a question, "What did you do?" to which I launched into a diatribe about how just because someone honks at you does not necessarily mean that you've done something wrong - it sometimes a matter of opinion blah, blah, blah until the their eyes glazed over and they began a conversation about their school's policy on bubblegum.
I began to look around for the "honker" and saw that my "next-door-driver" was starring at me as if to say, "What? Why did you honk at ME?" at which point I noticed my hand resting suspiciously across the center of my steering wheel. That's when the light bulb went on... I AM THAT HONKER! I gave the (not-to-be-confused-with-a-honker) fellow driver the obligatory "I'm sorry" look and placed my hands back at the aforementioned proper driving position and continued our commute as one being sent to the principal's office. Mine was the drive of the contrite - I had seen the error of my honk - and it had me thinking.
Many times I have prided myself on being a multi-tasker. Someone who can juggle many things - and make it look effortless. And yet I know the danger of that thought process as well. Often I miss being present in the moment because I've "got to get a picture of that" or I can think of a million things that are (in reality) "urgent unimportant" and allow the "urgent important" to take a backseat. In all honesty - this is my SECOND attempt at this blog today. I had it all ready to hit publish and instead hit a little red x... UGH! Distracted and busy are more than buzz words to me - they can suck the Jesus plumb out of me if I'm not careful.
So, today, I'm going to ask as the psalmist did that God, "...direct my footsteps according to His Word, so that no sin might rule over me." (Psalm 119:133 paraphrased) A great way, might I add, to start the first day of Spring Break!
And in this may we find so much less of me, and soooooooo much MORE of YOU!

Be honest... then TRUST!

Psalm 13:1-2 & 5-6
"How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?
But I will trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me."

You know God's really trying to get your attention on something when a scripture keeps popping up - in multiple unrelated places... like so many dandelions in spring.
Four times this week, Psalm 13 has come to me, once through a bible study, the next time I caught myself singing one of the phrases (actually referencing Psalm 40 - but with that same question, "How long?") Another time, I was leafing through an old notebook and found a reference to Psalm 13 in the margin; thinking, "This address sounds vaguely familiar!?!?" I looked it up and found myself face to face with the question again, "How long?
Then this morning, I opened up my email account and found that a devotional I subscribe to was using Psalm 13 as the basis for today's meditation. Now I'm beginning to think He's trying to tell me something. (I know "Duh!" right?)
That's when I saw it on the page of my bible. In green pen I had written some time ago,

"Be honest... then TRUST!" 

How often do I try to shield God from my true thoughts and feelings - like He needs me to edit my real emotions so as not to offend Him. Yet here in the pages of my bible I have evidence, that King David (a man after God's own heart... something I want to be after) was honestly exasperated. David cries out to God with a straightforward annoyance, "How long?" He was being honest... truthful, sincere, candid... frank. Whatever you want to call it.
And yet I sit before the Lord with an eraser - furiously writing, erasing... re-thinking... rubbing my pink gum eraser plum through my mind - much like a first grader and math homework. When clearly, God wants me to be honest with Him. He'd rather I spell it out as clearly, plainly and with as much emotion as this drama-momma has within her. It's like God's inviting me through David's example, "Just get it out, baby-girl! Get it off of you... and then trust that I'm listening, that I'm working all things together for your good."
Beth Moore said on Tuesday at 1st Baptist in our The Law of Love - Lessons from the Pages of Deuteronomy, "It's impossible for God to get tired of us!" I'm holding on to that promise today... with all that is in me! Believing that He wants my direct questions... and then my TRUST!
What about you sweet friend? Are you crying "How long?" Know that He hears you and is not surprised by your frankness... Let it go... Get it out. And then TRUST!
Oh, that in the end we may have more of you Lord, and less of ourselves!

Shhh...

Isaiah 11:6 "Then wolves will live at peace with lambs, and leopards will lie down in peace with young goats. Calves, lions, and bulls will all live together in peace. A little child will lead them."

Considering what was going on in our house, it would have been all to easy to miss this one. I mean was up to my armpits in tape, wrapping paper and presents.  The Stig had very generously made me homemade biscuits & gravy for breakfast and then grabbed E! and the two were off doing some last minute errands (that I was informed where "none of my bee's wax!") 

So it was just "A" and me at home. She was playing quietly upstairs while watching a Christmas video. Entertaining a 3 year old while wrapping a family's worth of stocking stuffers and presents wasn't  on my "To Do List" for the morning... but she was being really good. She'd only tried twice to come into my bedroom. And for someone who only recently came to understand the idea of sweet secrets, that was pretty good.

I came banging up the stairs with a load of junk that had previously been strewn around the house... muttering about being tired of always picking up other people's stuff. "Shh..." she whispered, "Momma, baby Jesus is being born for me!"

I stood there with my mouth a gasp, tears forming in my eyes. There sitting on the floor of our game room, she had assembled them all - Bob and Larry, angels and animals along with no fewer than four "baby Jesus" stand ins. 

With Nutella spread across her little cherub cheeks she explained that they were all waiting for Jesus to be born again - this time for her. When I asked her why she had so many tiny infants there she looked at me as though that were a silly question and said, "Because I need him!"

Oh sweet baby Jesus - Thank you for being born again for me today.

More of you baby Jesus... and a whole lot less of me!

Finding My Mind...

Last night I was running up and down the stairs draping toilet paper over the banister - throwing a roll over the light fixture - making large pools of paper on the floor. Our Elf on the Shelf - Stella Nutella - sat holding an empty cardboard tube with a silly grin on her face. Probably because she knew full well that she was going to take the blame and the punishment too (spending the day in the "Simmer Down Chair!") I was downright giddy. I've had such fun this year scheming and dreaming up little things to make A&E giggle and grin. And tonight was no exception... it was becoming the rule.
The Stig had run to the store for a few things and when he walked in the door and saw the tee-pee job I had just completed, he exclaimed, "Woman... have you lost your mind?"
And all I could think was, "No... I'm just finding it!"
I am laughing and playing more than I have in years. I give God all the glory for the gifts of 2011 - a new home closer to work/school/church - losing 70 pounds - two really healthy happy girls - a husband whose new job has given him a new lease on life - family and friends who continue to laugh and love with us.
I apologize for not being a good blogger for the last few months... but life has been pretty full!
In 2012 here's to More of You God... and less of me.

Tire Swing

aFor me this started long ago at a bus stop on a sweaty September morning headed to 1st grade. I was not a chubby little girl - but to say I was solid is no understatement. I don't remember what the boy who said it looked like, or really even the sound of his voice - only the sing-songy words repeating over and over in my head, "Hairy Kari the big fat fairy!"  His words hurt more than any sticks or stones he could have hurled at me... and for many years they were the nagging soundtrack to my hurt and confused little world. Until the day I found out God's nickname for me... Beloved. 

E came home from her second day of 1st grade and flatly told her daddy and I that there were some kids at school who said she couldn't play on the tire swing at playground. They told her she was too big and that she could be the "pusher" (all drug references aside.) They had very plainly pointed out to her that she was the biggest girl and that they wouldn't push her, so that meant she had to push them if they were to remain friends.  She was so matter of fact about this story... I just kept waiting for her to cry - or break down into a pile of mooshy goo. She told me that she really wanted to ride the tire swing and that she wished she had a "BFF" (that's Best Friend Forever for those of you who are unfamiliar with 1st grade venacular.) It was then, that I noticed that I was crying. I asked E if I could pray with her and she said yes.  As I held that sweet sweaty girl on the side of my bed I asked God to be her BFF... to help her as she finds her way in this often hurtful and confusing world. And then I asked God to remind her over and over with words that play in her head like a song, "You are my Beloved E! I love you just the way I created you... Keep your head up and remember who you are and Whose you are!"

So that Sunday after church, we went to the school playground - and her daddy and I pushed her on that tire swing while she laughed and sang and God whispered, "You are my Beloved!" over and over... like a healing song for us both!

More of You God and less of me...