Beyond Belief

Apparently I didn't have long to wait after that last post! I went to sleep around 2:30am and awoke at 7 with contractions 5 minutes apart. By 3:04pm, after a rather frantic dash to the hospital, our Caitlyn Grace was born.

We are blown away by God's gift...we feel like we couldn't have planned it any better...2 boys and 2 girls. NO WAY!! Neither B nor I thought Sparky was a girl, even though almost everyone else did--even Ethan, who thought we should name her Nick. Or Lenny. He's since decided Caitlyn is an acceptable alternative.

I'll post more pics later. I can't stop looking at or taking pictures of her!

Thank you, Lord, for this indescribable gift and tender care of our family! God be praised!!

Waiting

OK, I've officially passed the time frame in which I expected to spontaneously go into labor. And now it's one in the morning. I went to bed exhausted at 9pm after a couple of hours of false labor and now I've been awake since midnight with a brain that refuses to stop thinking about my uterus. So, what to do? Blog, I guess!

I woke yesterday morning and had a few minutes with the Lord to start the day while B was downstairs with the chitlins. The word "wait" was on my heart, so I spent some time in Ps. 27. The ending of the psalm is,

"Wait for the Lord;

be strong and take heart

and wait for the Lord".

I knew that's what I needed to do. But it is hard! I'm not good at the waiting and I'm definitely not good at being strong while waiting! I struggled through the day until rest time and then sat down at the computer. DJ (fellow waiter, due that day) had sent me a note of encouragement with this poem:

Waiting

Dear baby, hear beneath my heart,
I thought that you might come today;
The timing just seemed right.
But the stars are out
And the moon is high
And sheepishly I wonder why
I try to arrange the plans of God,
For I know
You will not come until the One
Who holds eternity rustles your soft cocoon
And whispers in tones that I will not hear,
“It’s time, precious gift.
Now it’s time.”

Robin Jones Gunn

What a beautiful reminder of God's sovereign reign in all of this! There will soon come that moment when He will whisper to my baby and it will be time. I was reminded of Ps. 139:10 which says that Sparky's days are already ordained--every one of them. Who am I to say when they will begin?

So why am I sitting here in despair? Why can't I just let God be God and rest until He brings about this miracle? Lord, help me trust you more. Be my strength while I wait.

One bright spot: it's past midnight and kare11.com has another crossword puzzle posted...something to take my mind off of my uterus for awhile!

Check Out Those Cheeks!

This is our most recent picture of Sparky, taken last Monday to check baby's size in hopes of not having another Butterball. All looks good...the ultrasound measured baby at 8 lbs. 10 oz. and the doctor thinks he or she isn't even that big and probably won't come out over 10 lbs...I could have kissed the guy!

But despite Sparky's petite (by Crim standards) size, he or she still has the trademark chubby cheeks, one of which can be seen in the picture above. The big round shape on the left is the tummy, the little round shape in the upper right is the cheek, next to the nose with two black dots for nostrils and two dark eyes. Baby was busily sucking on something while we peeked in. So amazing!

I guess we're pretty much ready around here. I know I would love to bend over again without a watermelon in the way! But I'm scared about going through labor again...funny how we don't think about that when we're excited about getting pregnant again but how vivid my recollection of it all is now that it could happen at any time! Please pray for me to endure.

Glass Doesn't Last Long Around Here

This is the result of our latest glass-tastrophy. Apparently Ethan was on his bed for a time-out while Mommy was gone trying desperately to regain some sanity. We'll never know what inspired our little monkey to think that the light fixture's glass could support 45 lbs. of weight. And yet, somehow, the thought entered his 4 year old cranium and was acted upon. I wonder how long it held him before it broke...? He then fell down onto the footboard and the glass thingy fell on top of him and then shattered as it hit the footboard as well. Daddy was not amused. I have to admit that I was...after all, I wasn't there to deal with the disaster cleanup!

This is the most recent in a growing list of glass-breakage events in our household. To date we have lost the glass to our entertainment center door (by one of the chitlins slamming it), the glass in our big picture over our couch (by a toy thrown at it), the picture window (by Ethan's head or body--we didn't discover the crack until we got back from 5 weeks in Indiana), and the lid to our upstairs toilet (by a tantrum-throwing boy kicking the wall during time out and subsequently knocking the picture above the toilet off the wall and onto the lid). Impressive, huh? Makes us wonder if it's really a good idea to install french doors between our living room and dining room for some much-needed noise reduction...what are the chances of all those little panes surviving the next 10 years in our house with our boys?

The Shadow Is Dead

Alright, alright...I'll blog something! Actually, I've had this one waiting in the wings for awhile, so it really took place several weeks ago. Sorry for the delay--I just haven't gotten into a bloggin' mood for awhile...


A week or so ago I gave Vonda a ride to Three Hats Coffee and then home in our little red car. Several times that evening we had to pull over to the side of the road to restart the engine because it completely lost acceleration--something that had been happening for a few months now with increasing frequency. "No problem," I assured her, "this same thing happened to us last year and it only cost about $100 to fix." As I pulled away from her house I could tell she was genuinely worried that I wouldn't make it home, especially without a cell phone.

We finally got it checked out today after a few incidences of it not starting at all and frequent sluggishness in crossing intersections (yikes!). The verdict: she's a goner. After first telling Brian that "we have people who can come and pick up cars like this one," the shop receptionist explained that my poor little 1992 Dodge Shadow ES turbo has multiple organ failure--transmission and head gasket. A mere $3500-5000 would cure her, but let's face it...she's telling us she's had enough.

My first car will be sent off for parts on Monday. Got her from my dad when I was a giddy little college junior. Loved to use that turbo engine to accelarate as quickly as possible to the posted speed limits near Bethel College. Beautiful red color, in the tradition my dad had of driving little red cars back when I was a just a young girl riding on the armrest next to him and helping him shift. Had a great stereo system til I blew it out. Fun automatic window controls cleverly located in a place that could be used to freak out naive 8th grade girls (ie Katie Olson!) in the back seat whom I convinced that the car was possessed. Only one major repair in the 11 years I had her. What a great car!

The first time I saw her was when my Dad drove her up from Sacramento to Portland (10 hours!) to see me perform with the Bethel Concert Band. I was so excited driving around the city that night with him, anticipating when she would be mine. The first summer I had her my best friend Dee and I drove down to Kansas City to order my new flute for which I'd been waiting 2 years. This was the car that whisked Brian and I away from our wedding stuffed full with balloons, Fruit Loops littering the floor, and Wacky Noodles hanging out the windows. The next day we drove up to the North Shore for our Honeymoon. Good memories. You never forget your first car, right?

Tomorrow we'll clean her out and say goodbye. And since we're now going to try to be a one-car family, we'll come home and wonder why in the world we just built a 2-car garage!

Growing

OK, last Wednesday was bad. I didn't know how I would make it through that day. I hoisted the big question mark flag to God and waited...

Thursday morning I got the following email from my dear Oregonian friend (author of Can't Help Myself blog), which got me started putting together some of the pieces of what I couldn't figure out. After reading it I was finally able to confess my sin to God and to my children, and a weight was lifted.

For those of you who are sometimes disillusioned, here is her encouragement. It is long, but worth the read...

My dear, dear friend. Big hug to you right now! To say "I've been there," would be as silly an understatement as saying that "I've been to church." I still do go there--regularly, if not religiously. Sometimes I feel as though I live there. I so despise myself in those times--I feel as though all the growth and "ah-ha!" moments in the past 5 years have been a lie. Back to square one--round and around she goes. . .

However, to quote a fascinating woman come across my path of late--"But, God!...... I love those two words....as in 'They meant it for evil,
BUT GOD used it for good.' Those two words make all the difference."

You slam the door at your kids.
The enemy celebrates.
You weep.
BUT GOD. . .
allows you another chance to remind your kids
that you are walking along this path of life with them,
and sometimes need their prayers and forgiveness too.

You say hurtful words to your kids.
The enemy says, "Now that's a gal I can use!"
You say, "What good am I to God?"
BUT GOD. . .
says, "Go show your young ones the plank
I helped you remove from your eye so that
they will know it is compassion and humility that makes you
dig for the specks in theirs."

You grumble about things that you thought precious just yesterday.
The enemy stands back to watch as your feet and legs
are immobilized by the hot, desert sand of discontent.
You let guilt cause you to sit down and wallow in it.
BUT GOD. . .
uses your little sojourn back to the desert
to remind you of His constant refreshing presence,
and that your daily bread. . .everything you have,
everything you really need, comes from Him.

You think horrible hopeless thoughts about surviving this day.
The enemy paints your future a dull, primer gray.
You watch and wearily swipe a little gray on it yourself.
BUT GOD. . .
takes advantage of your attention
and the freshly primed canvas to dab on a bright
little speck which grows and multiplies and explodes
way beyond all boundaries into an amazing picture
of His glory and greatness.
And your life is a part of it!

You get so tired and soul-weary that all you can
do is lay down and say, "Ok, Lord.
You're just gonna have to carry me.
I just can't do it, and I'm tired of trying and failing."
The enemy screams in frustration.
Slowly, you begin to feel a little lighter as that rock
in your gut seems to vaporize.
AND GOD. . .
sets on your shoulders a new yoke--
the lightest one you have ever carried.
You look and find that it is only because He
is in the other side of it--bearing the full weight.

My beloved friend and sister, you ask where God is in these
times. He's waiting for you to stop and humble yourself so that He can
lift you up. Every single time, I am (very slowly) discovering that it
comes back to surrender. Setting down your sword.

You ask where the "way out" is. I think sometimes. . .maybe. . . it would be more accurate to seek the way through. You're right. God rarely swoops down and dumps a magical basket of spiritual fruit on our heads. He generally doesn't even remove or neutralize the temptation. (Then it wouldn't be temptation, would it?) The temptation remains, but He waits for us to stop and look to Christ. The
hard part for me is the stopping. On days like you described, I feel pressured to keep going and keep running, getting things done and throwing a prayer at Him on my way past. "Somebody stop me!"

But He calls us to "Be still and know that He is God." He calls us to come to Him
if we are weary and heavy laden. I have a friend who treats such situations as "emergencies." She figures that her kids need her to be able to pray effectively for them at all times, so when she is doing them no good, and her sinful attitude interferes with even being able to pray for them, she stops homeschooling, skips swimming lessons, whatever she needs to do and makes the time to stop and come humbly before the Lord, and then before her kids to pray together. I have begun to do that at times too, and not only does it radically change my whole attitude, but it has dramatically impressed my kids with the importance of humble submission to God and being right with each other! We have gone so far as to climb back into bed--all together--after lunch, and restarting our day with a "Good morning," and a stretch, and a prayer--"Thank you, Lord for this day! Show us how to bless each other and honor you!" You can't imagine the effect--on all of us!

My dear sister, thank you for your honesty in your blog. I imagine by the
time you get this e-mail, the troubled day may have passed. But they do come again. I don't have all the answers. I don't even always do what I have just told you. I am thick skulled and stiff necked.
I wait until the situation is desperate.
The enemy does his thing.
I play along.
But God. . .
always makes a way through to greater maturity
and the spiritual fruit tree which lies
just on the other side of this trial.

There is no end to the wonders He can accomplish. . .no end to the
good He can work out of all things when we surrender our sin and failure to
Him, the great Redeemer.

Disillusionment

It has been a horrible day. Woke up feeling down and lonely. I'm a spontaneity-loving extrovert living a scheduled and isolated homeschool-mom life. By midweek of going hard at school I find myself struggling. And today was bad. Maybe it's 3rd trimester hormones--I do find myself wanting to cry a lot these days, which is unusual for me. Maybe it's B's extra work hours lately which mean I have extra hours with the kids. I really don't know.

Today all those things I've been learning about serving my God joyfully through all the trials and sacrifices felt hollow and unreachable. Today all I wanted to do was be alone or with a friend, without kids asking for things. It was all I could do to get an hour of school done, and by the end of that I had lost my temper and was yelling at the kids, slamming the door as I pushed them outside. Misery. Now I felt guilty, too, because of my lack of self-control and subsequent angry outbursts.

My honest question tonight is this: where is God when we are completely empty--poured out and exasperated? When one more question, one more sibling argument, one more noise, will put us over the edge and we find ourselves yelling angrily at our kids and saying things that crush their spirits? The Word says that God always provides a way out from temptation. So what is that way out in these moments of crisis? In my experience he doesn't often swoop in and miraculously anoint me with greater self-control, peace, or patience. Instead, I almost always give in and react out of anger and frustration, taking it out on the little ones God has given me to love and care for.

Some say I'm being too hard on myself. But I only want to live the way He calls me to, and sometimes that just seems impossible. Even when I am calling out for his strength.

Right now I just don't get it.

Go Go Gadget What?

Monday night tends to be movie and pizza night around Crimville. After football practice, B stopped to pick up the cheapest pizza in town (Papa Murph's) and a movie. The cinematic thriller he picked out this week was Inspector Gadget, with Matthew Brodrick. It held my interest for about 14 minutes and then I started working on school stuff for the next day.

The kids loved it, however. After it was all over, we told them to run upstairs to get their jammies on. From downstairs we could hear them yelling things like, "go go gadget lightsaber!" and "go go gadget flashlight!" while leaping around their bedroom.

I think I just tuned the noise out for a moment then, because the next thing I recall was E suddenly bursting out, "go go gadget underwear!"

We weren't exactly sure how he came to think of that particular gadget, but it sure gave us a laugh!

Jealousy Reconsidered

Totty has been going through a serious "daddy phase" lately. She adores him. She cries for him. She cuddles him whenever she has the chance. It's adorable.

And jealousy-inducing. For suddenly I'm not the all-important one...he is; he holds pride of place in her life.

I know that when she pulls away from me and reaches for him, my lower lip starts to protrude somewhat in a bit of a mommy pout. B, meanwhile, sees my expression and cracks a self-contented smirk. I think he feels bad for me, but really not that bad.

Today, however, we got a humorous glimpse of the flip-side of this daddy-fixation. B had just put E-Man down for his nap after church and lunch. I was feeling drained and ready for napville myself but figured I should do what was fair and put K down for her nap. I asked her if she wanted to go read with me. Her reply was one of rejection: she wanted Daddy to read to her. I tried a couple more times (rather lamely, I confess) to sway her, but soon Dad gave in and offered to read to her. I would be lying if I said I was disappointed. But, figuring she needed a pit stop for a new diaper, I offered to change her. Again she protested in wonderfully whiney 2-year-old fashion. I set her body down in front of me and as soon as I did, she slid her bottom directly over to where Daddy sat on the floor next to me. This is too great, I thought. By this time we're both laughing, especially when he undid her diaper and found it to be a duker. He was smirking now as he changed her, but not in that same self-contented way. The icing on the cake came when I noticed that her bottom was a bit red and asked her if she needed some cream put on it. At this B quickly chimed in, "yes, Mommy is the cream expert--she can do that part!" I opened the jar and was immediately rejected one final time. She wanted Daddy to put on that cream. Which he did--he was defeated and he knew it.

Still laughing I remarked, "I'm not so jealous anymore". And through his sacrificially clenched teeth B replied, "and I won't feel bad when you are anymore, either".

Fair enough, I suppose.

Apple Orchard Education

So we went to the apple orchard today and learned many things. First, that they charge an entrance fee (which we would have known without looking quite so clueless had we paid any attention to the huge sign we walked past on the way in). Next, that 6- year-olds should not be allowed by their mommies to cut their own sample of apple with a razor-sharp knife (which I also might have known if I'd paid any attention to the sign right in front of me stating that only parents were allowed to do the cutting). Third, that the first thing to do when attending to a deep cut is to stop the bleeding by applying pressure. Fourth, that the staff at the orchard does not know where the first aid kit is. Fifth, that Neosporin can actually separate into 2 substances that do not resemble Neosporin (as learned when said staff finally found the first aid kit).

And that was all before we even got out to pick apples (which was great). It's amazing what you can learn on one little fieldtrip to the apple orchard!

Where Have All the Earthworms Gone?

Today was "Exploration Day" in our homeschool curriculum. Thus, we explored. We nature walked, we read books about ants and moles and grasshoppers. We made a worm habitat. Then we waited with excitement for the grande finale: our worm hunt.

When I was little, my family--grandparents, aunts, uncle, cousins and all--would rent 2 little cabins up on Farm Island Lake. The old couple who owned the resort had a dirt pile like you wouldn't believe in their front yard (did I ever wonder why?). My four boy cousins and I would dig up all our fishing worms in that pile. And I kid you not, there was one time we found a nightcrawler that was 10 inches long and at least a quarter inch in diameter. He was the Godzilla of the worm species. We played with that thing for quite awhile, freak of nature that it was, and dreamed of how many sections we could make of it for bait. Then, when we finally lost interest and ran off to play, my cousin John ended up leaving it on the dock, surely to meet its demise in some sunfish who must have thought he'd died and gone to fish heaven. I think John may have feared for his life that night, we were so mad! Come to think of it, I think I'm still mad at him.

When I was an older kid, my dad and I used to put the sprinkler on in the front yard for about 12 hours. Then, late at night, we'd sneak out, flashlights in hand, ready to stalk subterranian life. I'm telling you, it would be hard to pay enough money for the free fun we had those nights! The lawn would be covered with the shiny worm bodies. A sweep of the flashlight would ignite a flash of excitement within me when a nightcrawler was spotted. Then, with quiet and stealthy footsteps, we would sneak up to the worm and prepare to grab it. This had to be done with great speed and skill. If you were too slow, the worm would disappear into his hole. If you pulled too hard, it would simply tear in half. They were slimy and fat and wonderful. I love that this was a part of my childhood.

So today I left the sprinkler on and dreamed of the fun we would have together tonight...

Unfortunately, I have never had to work so hard to find a few measly earthworms. Perhaps it's been too dry this summer and they've all gone deeper. Perhaps I didn't leave the sprinkler on long enough. Maybe we should have waited until later in the night (yeah, right, with 5 kids age 7 and under!). There were no shiny bodies laying on the lawn. Absolutely none. Instead, we had to dig. A lot. After probably a half hour of digging up various places in the lawn and next to the driveway, we had maybe 8 pathetic little worms. No 4-6 inch nightcrawlers. Just they're little lackey friends.

Oh well, we still had a good time. The kids were hyper beyond recognition, and my lawn needs to have some repair tomorrow. But at least each of the munchkids got to pull one of the slippery little guys from the earth and run around the yard like crazy homeschool kids.

Maybe next time we'll have more to show for our efforts.

Gift Idea for Baby Porter

It's the perfect gift for Porter #3! If we all pitch in a dollar, we'll have it practically paid for. For $2 I bet we could even find a matching mouth guard! Who's in?

p.s. If you have no idea why this is funny (besides the ridiculous diaper-shaped helmet on this poor child's head--what did they give him to make him smile with that thing on?), go to www.faithcommunity.info and listen to Porter's August 20 sermon on "Courage".

Poured Out

I have been captivated these past few days by a chapter in Desiring God--on Suffering. Sounds like a fun chapter, huh? Initially I think it's something we all shy away from--no one likes to actively think about being in pain, about sacrifice, or really anything that isn't about being happy. These are not popular topics. In reference to Paul's choice to suffer recorded in I Cor. 15:30-32, Piper comments, "this is not normal. Human beings flee suffering. We move to safer neighborhoods. We choose milder climates. We buy air conditioners. We take aspirin. We come in out of the rain. We avoid dark streets. We purify our water. We do not normally choose a way of life that would put us in 'peril every hour.' Paul's life is out of sync with ordinary human choices. Virtually no advertising slogans lure us into daily dying."

But God is using this chapter to give me greater joy in life. Me, the chronic complainer about mommy duties; the one who has struggled for years with all the sacrifices, inconveniences, and exhausting moments that happen every day in the course of caring for kids.

Yet God has not been content to leave me in this grumpy state, and this morning he caught my heart with Philippians 2:17: "but even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you." I love that phrase--poured out. It suits motherhood well. We give the best that we have every day in service to these little ones, and so often it feels as if we have poured ourselves empty. But Piper keeps reminding us of the joy. We can exchange lesser happiness--a carefree life, easy existence, uninterrupted phone calls and potty breaks, unlimited time with friends and spouse--for greater happiness--children who love Jesus, a heart submitted to his will for us, a content and quiet spirit that tells the world that Christ is "better by far", the hope of reward when all is finished.

One more Piper quote:

"The Calvary road with Jesus is not a joyless road. It is a painful one, but it is a profoundly happy one. When we choose the fleeting pleasures of comfort and security over the sacrifices and sufferings of missions and evangelism and ministry and love, we choose against joy. We reject the spring whose waters never fail (Isaiah 58:11). The happiest people in the world are the people who experience the mystery of 'Christ in them, the hope of glory' (Colossians 1:27), satisfying their deep longings and freeing them to extend the afflictions of Christ through their own sufferings to the world.

God is calling us to live for the sake of Christ and to do that through suffering. Christ chose suffering; it didn't just happen to him. He chose it as the way to create and perfect the church. Now he calls us to choose suffering. That is, he calls us to take up our cross and follow him on the Calvary road and deny ourselves and make sacrifices for the sake of ministering to the church [and our children] and
presenting his sufferings to the world."

Wow! What a different perspective than I usually have on life! Lord, please help me to live each day and see every sacrifice and inconvenience--no matter how small or big--through these lenses. Help me to embrace whatever you send my way and allow myself to be poured out for your glory.

Competency?

It's been 2 weeks since I've gotten something posted on here. I've started a couple, but not finished them amongst all my preparation for school starting tomorrow. Which brings me to the conversation Jay and I had at lunch today...

We wound up talking about fruits and vegetables after I told the boys that if you eat too many carrots and similar veggies your skin will turn yellow. They thought that was cool, but I decided to continue the educational experience by quizzing Jay on whether certain foods were either fruits or vegetables, as determined by whether they contain seeds or not. We went through the obvious ones: apples, watermelon, celery, strawberries (not as obvious to Jay--he finally learned what those "dots" are on the outside!), cherries, grapes. Then, just to be funny, I said, "what about eggs?" He thought for a second and then we both grinned, catching the joke. "They're just eggs," he answered. Not wanting to miss the chance to inform him further, I corrected (in all seriousness, I'm embarrassed to say), "actually, they're dairy--they come from cows".

Probably 15 seconds went by in silence, myself being completely unaware of my mistake, before Jay said, "wait--don't eggs come from chickens?" The light flashed on inside my cranium and we both just laughed.

So as we head into our second year of homeschooling, isn't it reassuring to know that my kids are being taught by someone so competent?

Grocery Advice Needed

I just got home from another depressing trip to the grocery store. Yep, definitely in the red again this week. I just can't seem to make it on the $100 per week we budget for food. I know of others who make it on less, so what am I doing wrong?

Here's what I think I do right so far: I shop first for sale items, basing my week's meals around whatever's on sale. I shop at multiple stores for food to get the best prices: Econo (good sales), County Market, Sam's, and sometimes Walmart or Target. We don't waste much. I try to buy the lowest cost per ounce possible. We don't eat a lot of junk food and hardly any pop.

Here are our trouble areas: We eat a ton of dairy--yogurt, milk, cheese--and some kind of meat in every dinner. My kids mow through 5 lbs. of apples in less than a week, as well as a lot of other fruit. We like to get a Papa Murphy's pizza once a week ($8 or less).

Does anyone have any great wisdom and/or tips for me? I'd love to know how others are making it work. Maybe we can all learn a new idea from this.

Arte d' Spaghettio

I usually don't sit down long enough to chew, let alone play with my food, but I guess I just couldn't resist this time.

The Rising Cost of Gas

OK, this isn't about what you think it is, so go ahead and read on--even if you're tired of hearing about the price of petroleum.

Back in mid-June we had one of those uniquely hilarious parental experiences; and of course, it centered around E...

He had apparently picked up a tummy bug right around his 4th birthday, because the next day he wouldn't even touch the birthday cake his gramma had made for him (per his specific instructions). A few minutes later as he played with his grandparents in the living room he suddenly turned around with a very non-E expression on his face. It was "the look". I flew into action, directing him to the bathroom as quickly as possible. He just made it before he erupted like a sick little volcano. Blech! After his episode he was fine. We thought it was over.

Four or five days later was J's final soccer game. We had a good time watching the "Tan Rockets" get stomped yet again, got home late, and put the kids to bed. Lindsay was staying with us that week after returning from Turkey, so the three of us were talking downstairs, enjoying the quiet, when suddenly there was a large thud! upstairs. Brian went to investigate. Soon I heard him yell those wonderful words that every mom longs to hear... "we got a puker!" As we dried off poor little E after a quick bath we noticed that his tummy was quite distended. He said it still hurt badly and it was rather hard to the touch. A call to the pediatrician convinced us we should take him to the ER with the nurse's concerns being that he might have an obstruction of some type. Lindsay stayed back as the other two kiddos slept.

So there we are, heading to the hospital at 11:30 at night, visions of exploding bowels running through our minds (ok, probably just mine--I'm the paranoid one).

The doctor examined him in just a few minutes and then stood back with a confident smile. He told us E was fine and merely had some tummy bug that was making his stomach very upset. He assured us there was no obstruction--in fact, he said the phone triage nurse really didn't know what she was talking about (great!). Ever the thorough mommy, I asked why his tummy was so distended. "Probably just excess fluid or gas from the bug," he replied. Then he left to get our discharge papers.

We breathed a sigh of relief and told E he was fine, to which he protested and looked like he would perhaps barf again. Then it happened. Out of that 4 year old's body came the most rank what-died-in-your-intestine smell you can just about imagine. I was the first to detect it, being the pregnant hyper-smell-sensitive one, and my hand flew up to cover my face. At first B didn't understand why I was groaning, but then he too caught a whiff. Words cannot describe that smell. E, obviously feeling a bit better, laughed at his impressive accomplishment. Then, over the next few minutes he ripped a couple more.

The "crisis" was clearly over and our little boy was fine, but we had just dropped almost $300 on our kid's case of the farts. In between protecting ourselves from E's emissions, all we could do was laugh together about this experience. It was actually a really neat moment--I was so glad B and I were together for this hilarious sequence of events. And what else can you do in moments like these but laugh?

Relieved and still chuckling on our way out, we informed the doctor that it might be a good idea to light a candle in exam room #2.

Good Times Watchin' Softball

Just got home from the FCC game in RF. In Kristy's words, we got "spanked". But what a fun time anyway! Some of the highlights...

...the huge grasshopper crawling on Kristy's backside (told ya I was going to blog it!)...K playing in piles of dirt until she was coated with it up to her bum...mini pirates running around pillaging and plundering with eye patches and cool homemade muskets...my hunk of a hubby getting a 3 run in-field homerun and an amazing horizontal center-field catch...E walking up with a piece of ABC gum (found on the ground) exclaiming, "look what I found!"...E pointing at a friend when I told him he shouldn't eat the gum saying, "but she ate some"...

Oh the sweet and funny things that happen at an ordinary softball game!

Martha Needs a Blog!

Sweet Farf and I got to go out for some girl time last night--yippee!! We ate at the cheapest place we could think of, drove to Como Park and walked around the lake (1.6 m. in flip-flops, thank-you very much!), went to the cheapest theater we could find, saw X-Men 3 for $2, and finished off the night with delightful conversation at Starbucks with not so delightful coffee. What a great time! Thanks, babe!

So at Taco Bell what do we start talking about right away? Everyone's blog-recorded lives! Turns out little Miss Martha is something of a blog addict, but you'd never know it because she doesn't leave comments. I told her she needs to start her own, or at least get a screen name so she can comment. She shook her head and gave me her excuses. No computer at home. OK, pretty good reason. But the way I figure it, there are plenty of good reasons to start one...

1. she reads all of our blogs every morning at work
2. she communicates most thoroughly and thoughtfully via computer
3. she has heart-felt opinions about perfect blog-fodder (such as naughty kids getting bitten by meerkats in a zoo exhibit)
4. 'cuz we all love her!

Can I get a second here, people? Give your reason for why she needs to join the club. Or just your favorite thing about her. Believe me, she'll be reading this tomorrow morning!

Refining

God's been working on me lately.

A couple of weeks ago I was laid low one night after a difficult evening with the kids. I knew I needed to talk with the Lord, so I resisted the urge to turn on the TV and vegginate. Sure enough, I was soon convicted about my attitude that has marked my role as a mom for a long, long time. Resentment. Complaining. Poor me, I deserve better than this whole lowly mom-thing. Really feeling like I was given one of the world's worst jobs listed on Kristi's blog, just short of pork-rind maker. The constant demands, no sick time, no paycheck, no freetime. Only exhaustion and more demands.

A portion of my journal:

Lord, I confess my heart is not in the right place. So very often I find myself irritated, angry, and resentful of the tasks of motherhood. I roll my eyes at their unending demands and complain in my head (and sometimes out loud) about the inconveniences they heap on me.

My attitude needs an adjustment, Lord. I need to see my charge as their mom through your eyes. I need my pride and selfishness dealt with. I need a renewal of vision and understanding of the worth of my post. I need your Word on this.

So I started to look up verses about serving Christ in the little things...

• "He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: 'I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.'" (Matt.18:2-5)
• "'...anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it...And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.'" (Matt. 10:38-39, 42)

Suddenly I saw what my attitude was...pride. Deep down I was resentful of the charge Christ had given me, thinking I deserved something better, something more comfortable and, darnit...fun. But reading the Matt. 10 passage blatantly confronted this perspective..."where have I ever gotten the notion that my service for Christ would be anything less than losing my life for his sake?"...And, "who am I to resent the place that the living God has given me to serve him?"

Yikes. Amazing how deep our human depravity goes. The truth hurts sometimes and the truth is that I am an ungrateful and prideful speck of gloriously-loved dust. The word mercy took on greater meaning that night. My journal concluded:

Lord, I lay this sin at the foot of the cross. Forgive me of my pride, my self-centeredness, my resentment, my complaining spirit. Wash me clean and grant me a humble heart that is willing to serve my children...and therefore you.

Oh, what a dreadful sinner I am. Who will save me from this body of death? Thanks be to God, who has covered me by his grace through Jesus Christ!

I am so grateful for his sweet and freeing conviction! Of course it is still a battle. But now when I am tempted to roll my eyes and grumble about doing yet another menial task for my children I am more likely to remember that I am actually serving Christ himself. And that's good enough for me. God be praised!