The Mykytiuk Files

To Carpe Diem or not to Carpe Diem? That is the Question.

2012-01-24T20:25:00.000-08:00

Alot of people have been posting Glennon Melton's article "Don't Carpe Diem" and giving her a cyber high five for her well penned words on Chronos vs. Kairos times in parenting.

I've been praying and thinking about this blog post for days now, because it is not my intention to contradict a mother, or say something bad. But I know that what I am going to say, can be taken as just that. Please understand that my intentions are good, and while I agree with Melton's article, I only agree to a certain point. Overall, while her article left other moms shouting, "Amen! That's Me!" it left me sad, depressed, and hopeless, because while I can say, "Yes, that is me." I don't want that to be me. And it took a couple of days of digging into my soul to understand why.

Just like Melton said, not everything about parenting is wonderful. Not every moment feels like a moment to enjoy, or relish, or even remember.

However, in her article, Melton returns the suggestion, "Enjoy every moment. I know I did," with a question; "Are you sure you enjoyed every moment? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"
Now this is where I think she goes terribly wrong. This is where my depression and sadness set in.

I am left feeling hopeless.

According to Melton, for the next 18 years, the most I can hope for is one or two moments, here and there, that are enjoyable. The rest is going to be misery, but at the end I will have loved that I was miserable with only a handful of good moments, for 28 years of my life?

She says, this is what works for her.

Now don't get me wrong, I can relate. Just read my last post here, if you have any doubts. I have horrible awful moments. Last night was one, when I came in to the kids' room to find that in cleaning all they did was stuff everything in their closet, in corners, under dressers and beds and out of the middle of the floor. I wanted to scream in my frustration!

I have hard moments when I am trying to get through the day of school work and all they do is play, thus prolonging my day!

I get irritated when the baby is screaming to be fed while I make lunch for the other kids and I am so hungry my hands are shaking and I feel like I'm going to pass out.

There are bad moments. For every mother. For every person.

It is true of every person, in every walk of life, not just parenting.

Working in a job, for other people, is hard. Bosses are not always kind, understanding or even reasonable.

Being a student can become frustrating as the assignments are piled on higher and higher.

Marriage is difficult when it turns out that a lifetime of love between two imperfect people is not as the romance movies and novels portray.

All walks of life have their difficulties and parenting is the mother of them all. But if we look to God's word we find that enjoying just select "good" moments in all walks of life, is not Biblical.

The problem with Melton's stand on enjoying and being grateful in Chronos vs. Kairos time, is this is not how God commanded us to live life. He did not ask us to be thankful only when the moment is good. He did not ask us to praise Him only when we receive "good" blessings. He did not ask us to rejoice only when our life is a bed of roses and perfect and peachy. In fact, He asks us more often to praise Him, thank Him, rejoice and find joy in the most difficult times in our lives. Yes, even in Chronos time.

In Philippians 4:4, Paul tells the people in Philippi,

"Rejoice in the Lord, ~~when every thing is good,~~ ALWAYS; again I will say, rejoice!"

Paul didn't say, rejoice in Kairos time. He didn't say, rejoice for our children when you realize how beautiful they are. He didn't say, be thankful for your family at the end of the day when they are no longer bothering you and you can think clearly.

Paul said ALWAYS.

It's hard. It's a discipline. And if you are human, you won't ALWAYS be able to rejoice. You will have to discipline yourself to do so.

But here is a better way to understand parenting in the difficult chronos time, so that one day you won't look back and regret having wished it all away counting down the minutes until dad gets home or school starts so you can escape your misery. Instead you will find joy in what once made you miserable, and peace in what once brought about chaos.

Rejoicing doesn't mean you have to always be happy. Having joy doesn't mean you say, "Yay! I'm so happy that my daughter jumped off the roof and broke her legs. What a fantastic day!"

Rejoicing means you give credit where credit is due.

It means saying in those difficult moments, "God, right now I want to pinch her head off for writing on every wall and every piece of furniture with a permanent marker. (TRUE STORY!) So please, help me to calm down and not injure your precious child verbally, emotionally, mentally, or physically, and to find some way to rejoice as I scrub the walls with magic eraser and furniture with alcohol for the next 3 or 4 hours."

When that little old lady tells you, "Enjoy every moment," I understand what she means.

The newborn days are so hard and seem so endless. Yet, one day you wake up, and your 4lb preemie is looking at you eye to eye and you wonder where the last 10 years have gone. And your heart breaks so much that your body will physically ache.

At that moment you can decide that you are so glad those days are over and you never want to do them again, yet you are glad you did them.

Or, before that day comes, you can choose every day to rejoice, in every moment and every difficult situation. You can choose, even as you are screaming at the top of your lungs for just one person to pick up the Lego you have stepped on ten times and asked to be picked up at least a hundred times, to rejoice.

Then you can look back and not feel you have wasted even one minute, because even when it was excruciatingly painful, and horrible and awful, you chose to do what God asks of us; rejoice and again, rejoice!

I will leave you with the story I read a long time ago. I don't know where, or who, but I will never forget it. It causes me to count my blessings in every frustrating moment.

A man and woman tried for years to have a baby without any success. Their hearts ached and longed for a baby, yet God did not bless them with even one. The pain of their empty arms was so great, it was difficult to face a world that included children.

But after years of waiting, they were finally given the blessing they had longed for for so long.

Two children. Two very precious children joined the couple and made them a family.

The years went by, and the mother experienced all the pains of mothering. She knew and lived the frustration and endless days and difficulty of parenting.

One day, her child had found the grape jelly and proceeded to enjoy a little treat without mom's knowledge.
Once all the fun had been had, the little one went on about his business, playing throughout the house, leaving the sticky, grapey evidence all throughout every room.

The mother said that as she worked to clean the jelly, frustrated and exhausted and angry, she realized there was a day that she would have given anything to have her house covered in tiny, grape jelly, hand prints. And now, she was blessed by those little hand prints. She thanked God for them, and even decided to leave a few around the house to remind her of what she almost missed out on. She saw the joy in the problem because she knew the true blessing was the child, not the hand prints.

That is how you rejoice in the moments of chaos.

Even my parents, have permanent marker on their newly painted walls from a recent visit from the Mykytiuk mob. My mother said they considered framing the artwork on their wall because it was precious to them. That is how you rejoice in the difficult moments.

My college roommate is one of my favorite mothers, and I often long to be just like her as a mother. She says, I don't know what we will do today, but we're going to have fun doing it! And, even when nothing goes quite like it should, she rejoices and has fun.

God has a way of pouring out his peace when we do what He asks, rather than trying to find an easier shortcut way to live life, if we just let Him.

Philippians 4:4-9 is a perfect remedy for making the most of your chronos time. He says to pray and ask Him in times of trouble, rather than worrying and becoming anxious. He says to give Him thanks in times of anxiousness. Paul tells us, "The Lord is near."

When you are angry, frustrated, and at the end of your rope, Dear Mother, the Lord is near. Rejoice! You are not trying to create responsible adults from tyrannical toddlers all alone!

What will happen if you admit you cannot do it alone? If you admit that you want to enjoy every moment of life and not just a handful? You might be able to stop screaming at kids all day long, because God will give you peace in EVERY. SINGLE. MOMENT.

"And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus...The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you." Philippians 4:7 & 9

A Lynette kind of day.. er, week.

2012-01-20T12:26:00.000-08:00

My husband was working for a friend of mine once, and she told him, "Amy always has it together."

Ha! Hardly.

Seriously.

I have it all together if:

it means I rarely make it somewhere on time and never early.
it means that the house stays littered with toys, food, trash, and clothes all day, every day.
it means that the kitchen is perpetually dirty and the kids idea of a nice home cooked meal is nachos.
I, at some point in the day, realize the reason for the baby's incessant crying is that he has been sitting in a dirty diaper for the last hour or two.
it means that at some point during each day I completely lose my cool with the kids and must retreat to a separate room to calm down.
it means that I rarely give my husband the attention he deserves because exhaustion has left me with nothing to give him at the end of the day.
it means that sometimes I just want my children to leave me alone.
it means that I consider my day a success if we have managed most of our school work for the day, the children AND myself have eaten something hot and some meat at least once in the day, and I did not shed any tears.

The reason I tell you this is because I think there are too many mothers out there struggling day to day to do the hardest job on earth, and they feel like they are the only one that doesn't "have it all together".

As women, we naturally compare ourselves to other women, mothers, wives, daughters, girlfriends, daughter-in-laws, etc.

I know I listen to that perfectly put together, cute, fashionable mother talk about how wonderful her children are; they are the light of her life, the apple of her eye, the beat of her heart, the greatest blessing... blah blah blah. I smile and nod while inside I am gagging and rolling my eyes as I notice my shirt is not only on inside out, but backwards as well, and I am wearing one black shoe and one dark, blue shoe. Yep, that's me!

Not that my children are not the the apple of my eye, but some days they are the pain in my butt too!

So I tend to judge myself based on this other mother. I guess I'm just not as good as her, or patient, or kind, or Godly. Maybe I don't depend on God enough or pray enough or read my Bible enough. Maybe I'm just not good at teaching my kids so they aren't as well behaved as her perfect kids. And the kiss of death thought every mother has, "I guess I don't have what it takes to be a good mother."

Or I judge her.
Well, if she had 5 kids instead of just two she would complain more. Or if she had to live in a smaller house like me, it would be different. Or, if she.... blah blah blah.

The fact is, neither response is true, or Godly.

I can't judge myself based on other women. And I can't judge other women based on myself. We are all struggling to be the kind of mother God called us to be, and falling so miserably short of being that perfect mother. Because we are all imperfect.

I don't watch the TV show, Desperate Housewives... anymore. However, I recently saw a documentary on women in prime time and the role in which they play as compared to the past. Desperate Housewives was visited as a contemporary look at women, mothers, wives, friends, etc. I never had much respect for such a seedy show, but after listening to the creator talk about his intentions for the plot, I had a new respect for what he is trying to do it. That is, give housewives and mothers credit for how difficult their job really is. He said, "Choosing to stay home with your children is the bravest decision I can think of."
AMEN!!

The character, Lynette, on Desperate Housewives, has 3 or 4 or 5 children. I don't remember. But she is a struggling housewife. Struggling to keep it together and run her household and take care of the children she loves. And she is portrayed as the mother who does not always see her role as a "blessing".

There is an episode where she completely loses it and is left on the soccer field, all alone, crying. Her friends come to her aid, sit around her and mourn the loss of sanity with her. They all comfort her with reassurance that they have had completely insane days too, and lost all self-control.

Through her tears, Lynette says, "Why doesn't anyone talk about this?"

That is the question.

Why don't we talk about the days that are so hard? Why do we only make ourselves appear to have it "all together".

I think it's because we don't want to put ourselves out there and find out that I am the only one that doesn't have it all together. Or even worse, I don't have what it takes to be a mother.

Well, I'm hear to talk about it. I'm here to tell you, even if I am the only one (which I KNOW I am NOT)...

I don't have it all together!

I have Lynette days, weeks, and sometimes months.

In fact, I recently had one day that has been worse than any other. My mother came over the next day and through my tears I told her how I lost my mind, literally. And I literally mean literally. I also told her that now I understand why she would yell at us (6) kids and lose her mind too!

She smiled and said, "You know what you've experienced? The wrath of God."

My sweet friend and mother, please listen to this.
Even God has lost His cool. Even God went berserk on his children. Even God brought down harsh punishments after time and time again of saying, "Don't do that. Please obey me. Don't do that. Please obey me and don't do that!"

Even God had Lynette days and wept over His children. Have you ever heard of Noah's Ark and the flood? God said, "I wish I had never made man." Not only did He wish it, but He destroyed His disobedient children as well.

I, like God, sometimes think I wish I didn't have kids, but I can say, unlike God, at least I've never come to the point that I destroy them.
His children, Israel, continually found themselves in bondage because they, time and time again, disobeyed their Father.

Even God knows the frustration and heartbreak of parenting.

So next time you listen to the cute little girl, dressed perfectly, with every hair in place and make-up perfectly applied, children sitting quietly reading a book 5 grades above them, talk about how wonderful and blessed she is, don't compare yourself to her. You will only make yourself miserable because God didn't make you to be like her.

Compare yourself to God. Because He made you in His image to be like Him.

Ask Him to make you more like Him. He becomes angry and frustrated, but He also is so VERY quick to forgive and restore. And He NEVER gives up on us, or stops loving... even me, even you.

There may be days you wake up and know that yesterday was nothing but torrential rain and pain in your home. But today, you can pray to be better and extend a rainbow to your Little Blessings.

And most of all, help another mother struggling through her day. No one can understand a mother like another mother. We need each other. We need to pray for each other, and to feel safe with one another to pour out our hearts, to mourn our losses, to express our anger and frustrations, to confess our failures, and to rejoice in the blessings.

Life Happens

2012-01-11T14:14:00.000-08:00

I was spending a day running all the post-Christmas errands I really had no time to run, and seriously don't want to run with 5 children. But, they had to be done.

My Beloved bought me, not one, but two pair of boots. I want some riding boots, flat heeled, and just like the ones my grandmother is wearing in an old photograph of her on a horse, when she was about 20 years old. I've always lusted after the boots in that photo. And now, they are in style.

I knew he would buy some for me, I just didn't know he would make TWO attempts to buy riding boots, when he has no idea what riding boots are.

He bought me a pair of black boots that are really more rock girl style than riding boots.

And he bought me a pair of cute brown boots, but they have more of a heel than I want.

And, too, after I asked for the boots, I realized... I have no skinny jeans to wear with them. More importantly, I should NOT be allowed to wear any type of clothing that is referred to with the word "skinny". So, that settled it.
I told him, don't buy me any boots, and if you have, take them back.

He did not.
So, post-Christmas I was left with the task of returning two pair of boots.

Before I left on my errand-running trip, I stopped off at a friend's house. She's lost something like 70 pounds in the last year, and she had clothes she bought as she was losing but are now too big for her. So she wore them once or not at all. She gave me those clothes. Most of them were cute, but not something I just fell in love with and couldn't live without. But she did give me a super cute and flattering, post-baby dress that I loved. I put them in the back of my big ol' burb and headed into town.

As I was walking out of the second store, having successfully returned the cute brown boots, I heard a woman tell one of the sales ladies,
"My house burned down in June and I am trying to find some clothes since I lost them all."

I continued to walk despite the Holy Spirit tugging at me to turn around. "What can I do for her?" I asked Him.

"You have clothes in the back of your car." He replied.

"Ya, but I don't have time for this and I want those clothes. I need clothes too, you know." I argued.

But the Holy Spirit can be very stubborn when demanding obedience. So I turned around and told her I had some clothes she could have. She said they might fit her granddaughter who was living with her and also lost everything.

As we walked out to the Burb, I thought, "I'll just keep the dress and let her have everything else."

The Holy Spirit, being so demanding said, "I didn't tell you to give her what you DON'T want. I told you to give her what you have in your car."

Grrr.

Fine.

She can have the dress too.

So I gave them to her and began to talk a little about some more clothes I might could give her as we are moving and cleaning out closets.

I told her how sorry I was that she had to go through something so awful.

As we talked, I shared with her the difficult times we are enduring.

We have tried to sell our house for almost 2 years now, even with a short sale. With no luck. Our house is now worth far less than what we paid for it 3 years ago. Although we have done well since leaving the church position my Beloved held, we have not been able to make the high mortgage payment.

This last week, the bank had an Sheriff's sale to auction off our house. We tried to move into a rental, but the day we moved, it all fell through. So, we basically moved twice in the last 3 weeks.

It's been hard.

I told this woman, who had also lost her home, as well as all her belongings, what we were going through.

She nodded her head and simply said, "Well, life happens."

It sure does.

I don't think God had me give her those clothes to help her, but so that He could tell me, "Life Happens."

He added to it over the following weeks.

Life Happens. But I am here.

Life Happens, and when it does, I probably have greater plans than you can imagine in the midst of it.

Life Happens, and if you will calm down and look to Me, you will be blessed.

Life Happens, but please, Praise Me anyway.

Life Happens, and when I said, "Do all things without complaining or arguing," I meant even when you have good reason to complain.

Life Happens, but it is not the point. I asked you to follow Me and I didn't say it would be easy, or life would be free of difficulty. You will have eternity to live without difficulty. For now, I must use you in all kinds of different ways so as to bring me glory in the short, few years you will be on that earth.

Did you hear that? ETERNITY!!

I have eternity to be free of pain and strife, tears and sadness. Life is the race that makes your side hurt, and legs shake, and you lungs ache, but you haven't reached the finish line so you keep running. Because you will have all the time in the world to rest at the finish line.

There is more that the Holy Spirit taught me through that 10 minute encounter with a stranger. Who knew two little words could mean so much?

Our Christmas Tree Tells the Story of a Family

2011-12-14T19:16:00.000-08:00

Last year I purged all our meaningless ornaments and decorations. Simplify. It's my new motto.

And although this year I felt a little panic come over me as so few Christmas decorations were pulled out, I quickly felt a surge of thanks, praise, love, and blessing overwhelm me as I found each precious remaining ornament.

They all have a meaning to us, whether it's special because of the person who gave it to us, or because of what it stands for, or because one of my kids made it. They are all precious.

Here are some of my favorites.

This ornament lays on a our tree skirt. It is the ugliest little quilt you have ever seen. It's not even big enough to be called a crib blanket, and did I mention it is ugly. But we adore it as our tree skirt. It just fits us; ugly scraps put together to be useful, and in its own way, beautiful, just like our family. Jay's great-grandmother made this quilt, so it holds alot of sentimental value as well.

The ornament is another story.

We lived in New Orleans and Jay was attending seminary when Hurricane Katrina hit. Our apartment wasn't flooded and we were able to regain about 1/3 of our belongings. However, the loss was unspeakable in our hearts. We lost our home, our school, Jay's job, and our friends were scattered all over the country. Our entire life was gone in a day. It was difficult to find a new direction all of the sudden and make choices like where to live, what to do, where to work, and on and on. Not to mention, we adored New Orleans and it was in ruins. Our hearts were broken.

The Christmas after Hurricane Katrina I bought this ornament, because more than anything I needed hope. I needed hope that my heart would stop breaking. I needed to hope that I would see my friends again. I needed hope that with every major life-changing decision we made in a moment's notice, it was the right decision. Every year it reminds me of the painful loss that God brought us through, and the hope He gave me and continues to give me each day.

We have an ornament tradition in our house. We each get a new ornament every year. I try to find something that speaks of where our family is in life. And the kids sometimes get to pick one out to buy, or sometimes we make them. When they leave home they can take all their ornaments with them.

This ornament was from our first year in New Orleans. It has red beans and rice inside and says "Bon Appetit". It and a couple of other New Orleans ornaments reminds us of the special time we spent in seminary, with good friends enjoying a unique culture.

This one, too, is from New Orleans, but it is one of the kid's ornaments.

My sweet friend, Joni, and her husband one year did a special thing for the seminary family. Each year the seminary held some sort of Christmas "bazaar" or craft fair, or something. I can't remember exactly what it was because this is all I remember about it. They set up a table and made ornaments and pictures for parents. This one is one of the kids hand prints.

It isn't just special to me because it's my kid's hand, which I love. It's also special to me because it reminds me every year of my sweet friend. She would without any hesitation, watch my Benjamin so I could go to the doctor. She watched him one time when I was super sick. And one time, Benjamin got stung by a bee, I couldn't hold him down to get the stinger out, so I called and asked her for help. Before I even hung up the phone her husband was at my door ready to help me. And within an instant, he gently held my son still while I pulled the stinger out.

This ornament reminds me of the blessing of that dear friendship and how God has blessed me with so many precious people along the way.

This one is just funny. A red ornament with pink feathers around it. When Levi was a little man, he loved pink, and he picked this one out. Now that he's eight, and would NEVER pick out anything that is pink, it's precious to remember that time before the opinion of the world set in.

With my #3 and #4 I did this their first Christmas. Plaster of Paris with their footprint. I loooove them.

Before we had money, or had built a big family, or collected alot of ornaments, this is how we decorated our tree. One year we bought a bunch of unpainted ceramic ornaments and decorations and we would enjoy each other's company every night painting our treasures. I painted this one. It reminds me of the precious time we spent together before we had children.

I have so many more ornaments I adore, but I guess I'll tell you their story next Christmas.

I will never leave you, nor forsake you. -God

2011-11-29T18:06:00.000-08:00

It was the end of another long day of 8th grade and I was more than ready to go home. Every day I looked forward to going home and spending a couple hours alone with my mother, nibbling on whatever she had made for my after-school-snack, and telling her all about my day.

This day was no different. I walked to the front door of the school where I waited for her to pick me up. I watched carefully so as not to miss our big, black Ram Charger getting lost in the traffic of parents and students.

Pretty soon, the only traffic left was that of the teachers leaving to go home. But I was still waiting patiently.

I wasn't worried. It wasn't unusual for my mother to get caught up in painting, quilting, Bible study, or her writing and lose track of time. But she would soon enough look at the clock and realize she was late. She would pick me up and continually apologize for her tardiness.

The secretaries were closing up the Jr. High office and getting ready to go home.

"Amy, do you want to try to call your mother before we lock up the office?" May asked me.

"Sure, she's just lost track of time." I responded calmly.

I dialed our number and listened as the phone rang again and again with no answer. I finally hung it up and said, "I guess she went out shopping and got stuck. She'll be here soon, I'm sure." So they hesitantly left me alone in the school halls with no one but the janitor.

My mother was now well over an hour late. But I didn't worry.

I had no reason to worry.

My mother had picked me up every day of school for nine years. Why would today be any different. I had known her faithfulness time after time. She loves me and only wants what is best for me. She would never abandon me.

I considered walking home, but I had no key and it was very cold outside. More than that, I worried that she would come and not be able to find me.

So I sat and waited by the front door. I heard the vacuum running and the janitor putting new trash bags in the cans. I heard her whistle a few times. And every once in a while, she would walk past me. I was so glad at least she had to stay so late. Otherwise I'd be sitting out in the cold alone.

After 2 hours I began to worry. I played the "what if" game.

"What if she had a wreck? "

I didn't know why she was late, but as the sun began to set, and I was still sitting in the hallway of my school, I began to lose hope of her showing up.
Emotions began to flood my mind and my heart.
At first it was fear for my mother.
Then it was fear for myself.

"Who will take me home? I don't know this woman cleaning the school?"

"What if I'm left to sit out in the cold? I'll freeze."

Then I began to feel angry at my mother for leaving me here. What could possibly have held her this long?

As all hope dissolved, I began to devise a plan. I will walk home. It shouldn't take more than an hour, and surely I will make it in this cold.

Just when I was making the decision to start walking, a strange white car pulled into the parking lot.
My mother was the driver.

My anger did not subside at this time. I think by this point, the only way I would not have been angry is for her to haveactually been in an accident.

As I walked to the car, I sulked and threw a little pity party for myself. I was ready to head down the highway and take her on the biggest guilt trip of her life.

I began to think, "I can't believe my own mother forgot about me. I wasted hours just sitting here! What is she thinking? Did she really choose to go buy a new car over picking up her only daughter from school?"

I opened the door and sat in the front passenger seat.

"Amy, I'm so so so sorry!" My mother pleaded. "I was out looking for a car for you and completely lost track of time. I'm so sorry! Please don't be mad at me." She sounded so distraught. I could tell she felt as bad as I felt about the whole situation. I quickly forgave my mother. I realized she hadn't forgotten me. She hadn't abandoned me. And she hadn't done it intentionally. And because I love her, I decided to choose to let go of my anger and forgive her.

At that moment, I realized she had been so delayed because she was shopping for me a car. She hadn't forgotten about me at all. In fact, it was all FOR me, and the gift of the car just cost a couple of uneasy hours of boredom.

I recalled this story this week as I contemplated God, His people, and how He deals with us.

You see, lately I can relate so closely to the Israelites and their inconsistent and conditional commitment to the God that loves them so. And as I understand them more and more, I am so thankful that God keeps pursuing them, loving them, and drawing them home rather than casting them off as they deserve. Because I am one in the same as the Israelites.

When Moses went up on Mt. Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments, he was gone for 40 days. This man had just taken millions of people from their homes and promised them a new home flowing with milk and honey. They had seen God do wonders and miracles on their behalf to give them freedom. But now they camped in a desert, by a mountain, while the man that promised to lead them to a better life, went up on a mountain for who knows what reason... and stayed there.

Was Moses dead?

Did he climb the mountain and go down on the other side and abandon them?

Here were millions of people, homeless, with no direction, no plan, and no hope except what they had in Moses. And he was gone and no one knew why or when he would return. Surely they felt abandoned, alone, and without hope.

Can you blame them for building a golden calf? At least it gave them something tangible to look to which brought them some hope. At least it gave them something to do rather than sit and wait for their food to run out and starve.

I can't blame them. I am just like them.

I have been waiting on God for so long to answer some of my prayers, that I feel much like the Israelites did. I questioned God and asked, "Why did they build the golden calf and why did they turn to something else after seeing God bring about the ten plagues on Egypt, kill the firstborn of the Egyptians, deliver them from the strong hand of slavery, divide a gigantic sea so that they might cross, and bring water out of a rock? Why? Why did they forget?"

God brought to mind the story of the time my mother didn't pick me up from school. It is just like that.

I knew she would pick me up, because she ALWAYS picked me up. She had NEVER abandoned me.

I had no reason to believe this time would be different.

Yet, I had never waited so long on her. As the waiting drug on and on, I didn't forget what she had done for me. I just began to believe the lie that suddenly, something about her and her character had changed. Today was the day she snapped and abandoned me.

Ridiculous. Her character had not changed. She had not snapped. But the things she was preparing for me delayed her.

This is how my relationship with God has been. I know the great works He has performed in my life and I have not forgotten them. But I have wondered if He is finished with me. Had I used up all my requests or has He gotten tired of me being so needy. Maybe He snapped and His character changed from faithful, to conditional.

God showed me the lie I am believing. God is not unfaithful.

He is faithful!

And while I wait, while He tarries, He is preparing something great for me of which I am not even aware.

Quite often I want to get up, go out into the cold on my own, and start walking. But it will only delay His answer longer as He will have to bring me back to the place I should be.

So I will wait and pray that He gives me the strength to resist building a golden calf to dance around. I will pray that He strengthens me to hold onto faith. I will pray that he gives me hope. And I will cling to the promise that He loves me with an everlasting love that is faithful and unconditional. It is all there is.

For now we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, as I am fully known. Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.

-1Corinthians 13:12-13

My House, My Home

2011-10-23T21:43:00.000-07:00

If you come visit me at my house, you will not find...

A perfectly decorated house, with furniture placed in the perfect spot, color schemes that flow throughout the house, or unique conglomerations of items that are pleasing to the eye.
A newly vacuumed or swept floor that is spotless.
Everything put perfectly away in it's place.
A place for everything and everything for it's place.
Perfectly folded clothes in each drawer organized by color or style.
Clothes hanging perfectly on hangers in the closet or organized by color or style.
Dishes all washed and nicely put away.
Crystal clear windows and mirrors.
Bathrooms that make you feel as though you could be whisked away to a perfectly soothing spa somewhere in the Caribbean.
Made from scratch meals, breads, and snacks.
Quiet and tranquility
New furniture, carpet, or paint.

When you come to my house, you will not feel as though you have just walked into an HGTV home or a Homes and Gardens magazine.

You will not ooh and ahh over my incredible talent to decorate.

You will not wonder how I raise 5 children and keep a perfectly neat house.

BUT...

When you come to my home, a huge basket full of shoes will greet you at my front door, surrounded by dirt.

When you come to my home, you will find written on all my windows, "I love you Mom", next to lots of tiny hand prints.

When you come to my home, you will watch TV through smeared hand prints.

Lego's, dolls, puppies, pacifiers, blankets, books crayons, games and many other items will be strewn around the house among the floor.

In my kitchen you might find spots all over the tile of spilled chocolate milk or hot cocoa.

You might sit down at my table and put your arm in something sticky.

In my home, beds won't be perfectly made.

In my bathrooms, toys will fill the tub and toothbrushes and toothpaste will litter the counter and sink... and walls, and floor.

In my home, there are cobwebs on the light fixtures, dust on the fans, and always dirty dishes in the sink.

In my home, my bookcases are covered over with schoolbooks, school supplies, and art supplies.

In my dining room we have no fancy dining table, but school desks covered in art projects, science projects, phonics games and lots and lots of books.

There is quite often laundry on the couch.

In my home, there is always a Bible on the kitchen table every morning, where my husband sat, ate his breakfast, and read.

In my home, there is always a Bible on the end table, where I sit and read it to myself and my children.

My home is not a showcase home. It is not a museum. Having a spotless, perfectly put together house is not where I find my self worth.

I rejoice for the basekt full of dirty shoes. It could be empty.

I am thankful for each hand print that speaks of the life that lives in this home.

Each book and project reminds me that there is education and learning happening every day, all day, in my home.

The toys scattered along the floor are evidence that we have lots of fun every chance we get.

The dirty dishes make me thankful we have food to eat.

The pile of laundry makes me thankful we have clothes to wear.

And the Bibles are a special gift, reminding me of the Godly man I married, and the incredible task of teaching my children God's word, and that I must press on toward accomplishing that task no matter how tired, sick, grumpy, worn-out, or stressed-out I am.

My home may never be featured in a magazine.
No one may ever ooh and ahh over it's beauty.

But everyone will know, we are a family, that lives, breaths, eats, sleeps, learns and best of all, Plays here.

I am learning to let go of the dream of a perfect house. I am learning to let the chaos be a blessing, instead of a burden.

It is not our house, it is our home.

This Warrior is a Child

2011-10-06T18:03:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning weary.

Not tired.

Just weary.

All around me I see the weariness of my loved ones and friends. There are those that are, or have been facing the awful ugliness that is cancer, either in themselves or in a loved one, and even in a child.

One of my family members has been trying for 20 years to get a solid foothold in this life, and is still struggling. I could see the weariness in his face recently as he questioned why.

There are others whose marriages and families are requiring every bit of strength they can muster, to hold them together.

There are those that are struggling to make it from one day to the next, to support their family.

I, too, am finding myself weary in this stage of life.

I can remember as a child, I would hear the stories of Jesus, and how one day He will come back to take us all to heaven. I also remember hoping that He wouldn't come back until I had lived my life. I wanted to grow up, get married, have children, have a career. I couldn't understand when adults would sing songs that seemed to long for the end of this world. I hadn't even had a chance to experience it yet. How could life be so bad?

Now, I understand. Life will make you weary. For some the weariness comes sooner than others. It may come more often for one than another.

I am, at 33 years old, weary. I have been asking God lots of questions. Why must I endure these things that weigh me down? Why won't you allow the burdens to be lifted? Why must I suffer for so long?

My best friend called me one day a few months back asking me to write out my story and enter it in a contest. It was a contest about how the things you have faced in life have made you stronger. How God used the difficult parts to strengthen the person you are.
She said to me, "You are the strongest person I know, so you have to do it."

I smiled, and shed a little tear at the same time, wondering how my very best friend couldn't see just how NOT strong I really am.

Today, another one of my friends texted me and said, "I am just so weary," only minutes after I told another friend, through tears, "I am just so tired."

I am tired of so much in this life. It's not that I don't find joy. I do. I have so much joy in my life I can hardly stand it. But the hard times and the suffering I endure and see others enduring, makes me weary.

After talking with my friend, I began to pray;

When God? When will there be peace? When will we get to a point in life, that it will be easy and we will have peace?

He gave me a very clear answer.

When you get home child. This is not the place for peace or rest. This is the time to work, so quit expecting life to get easier for you.

I understood, better than ever, what Paul meant when he talked about this life being a race.

"...run with endurance the race set out for us, keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. For the joy set out for him he endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. Think of him who endured such opposition against himself by sinners, so that you may not grow weary in your souls and give up. "

Hebrews 12:1-3

I am not a runner, nor am I an athlete. But I have been told by those who are, that when running a great distance you hit what they call, the wall. At this point it feels like you can not go any further. Your body is so tired you might collapse at any point.

They also tell me that if you will keep running, stay focused on running and not on how bad your body hurts, and push through that wall, you will soon receive a second wind with renewed energy, as if you had only just begun to run.

Maybe Paul was a runner and knew this about running a race. He knew that when we face "the wall" in life and feel as though we cannot go any further, if we will just push through and keep our focus on Jesus instead of how bad our heart hurts, then we will receive our second wind. If we think of all that Jesus went through on our behalf, then how can we give in to our weariness? How can we give up?

How can we give up on our marriage or children? How can we give up on our ministry? How can we give up on the people in our lives?

As I spent lots of time in prayer today, God brought to mind a song He often brings to mind when I get weary. It's an old song from the 80's that I listened to as a child, but I am still overcome with comfort when I realize I have a place to go home to, even here on earth. And that one day, I will go home for good. And never be weary again.

If you are weary, I hope that you will go home, and allow God to comfort you, as a mother comforts her child.

Stewardship of Grace

2011-10-05T10:23:00.000-07:00

"if indeed you have heard of the stewardship of God’s grace that was given to me for you," Ephesians 3:2

I have heard this verse many times, only it is mostly remembered as "If ye have heard of the dispensation of the grace of God..."

I have never thought about what it meant, or what the word dispensation means. It's a big word. I tend to deal with smaller words most often.

This was my Bible time yesterday. I can't call it quiet time because I never have any time that is quiet around here. But it was my short devotional I work in between cries, school work, and catastrophes.

I couldn't believe what it was God was speaking to my heart. The stewardship of God's grace, was given to me... for you?

I struggle to be a good steward of everything. We most often talk about being a good steward of money. I try. I do better than some, not as good as others.

Then there is good stewardship of things like time, resources, etc. I am a horrible steward of my time.

But now I have to think about being a good steward of God's grace too?

I have been praying for years that God would give me opportunity to share with someone who does not know Him. This is a big prayer for a stay-at-home-wife and mom. The only people in which I truly come in contact with are the checker at the grocery store, the librarians, and occasionally the mail man who gets a little freaked out by me on those days that I am dying to talk to someone about anything other than Lego's.

When I pray for opportunity, my question always becomes, "Who, God? I feel like a failure."

I don't know the last time I shared the Gospel with an unbeliever. For years I have prayed for opportunity, only to have opportunities presented to me at a time I was too dumb to recognize it. I later recalled the situation and questioned why I didn't say anything.

I once took my kids to Sonic for happy hour. As the server brought out our drinks, the usual chit chat began.
"Hi, how are you?" she asked.

"I'm good, how 'bout you?" I replied.

I didn't expect her answer.

"It's not going so good. I'm having a pretty bad day."

I have often wondered why I didn't say something, or just ask if I could pray for her. It wasn't the usual fear of being thought crazy, but more the fear of getting her in trouble if I kept her too long. Now I realize, WHO CARES!!! She needed Jesus, and she could have experienced Him through me. I have never seen that lady since, and we live in a small town.

I was a terrible steward of God's grace that day, as often I am.

I am not of the opinion that we should sit down next to a stranger and ask, "Have you ever asked Jesus to come into your heart to be your personal Lord and Savior?"

Not that that's wrong, but I believe that kind of direct approach must definitely be led by the Holy Spirit. And He frequently uses that kind of approach. I would love for Him to lead me in that kind of approach sometime. It seems so much easier. Frightening, but easy.

I do recognize alot of my stewardship of God's grace is poured into the 5 precious lives for which He has given me responsibility. I am being a good steward of His grace when it comes to my children. And I would challenge anyone who says differently.

I also recognize it is my primary responsibility for these few years I have them.

However, I want MORE! I want more grace, more of God, more of the excitement of sharing Him and seeing that change in someone's life.

I want to be a better steward of the grace He has given me, for everyone out there that has never experienced that amazing grace.

Now let me just say, Ephesians 3:2 is only part of a sentence Paul writes. I highly recommend you read the entire passage as he talks about understanding the secrets of Christ. We are like Paul, given insight into the secrets of Christ and required to be good stewards in sharing our insights.

Other believers need me to be a good steward and share the insights I have learned from God's Word, so that they might know too.

Children aren't handed a gigantic science book containing all the information on every kind of science out there and expected to read it and understand it when they are in first grade. They spend years in school being taught concepts and research and are given insights into what has been discovered by those that studied for many more years.

The Bible should be treated in the same way. There are those of us who have studied scripture for many years or attended Bible College and spent more time studying scripture than others. It is then my responsibility to teach what I have learned to those that are just in elementary, middle school, or high school when it comes to the Bible.

There are those that have been to seminary and on to a doctorate and I look to them to teach me more of what I do not know.

Then there are those that have no idea as to what we possess. They are like children who are never given a science book at all. How can expect them to know anything about science if we don't tell them that science exists, or even give them a book to read?

The same is true for unbelievers. How can we expect them to ever know and understand the grace we have been given if we never tell them?

Then there are those that know, have been told, and have rejected God's grace. We should never give up praying for them, that God might soften their heart so that they may one day experience his amazing grace.

I pray to be a better steward of God's grace. I pray for the opportunity to share God's grace with someone who needs it, and that I am never too fearful, or too occupied, too busy, or just too dumb to do so.

So, as a woman who struggles to be a good steward of the grace God has given me, I'd like to know: how do you make sure you are a good steward of the grace He has given you?

Preschool and Kindergarten Workboxes

2011-09-20T12:50:00.000-07:00

Workboxes have been a blessing to us. And they have made my life much more manageable, more organized, and peaceful.

The advantage to the workbox is mostly for my Pudge. He can now see everything that needs to be done in the day, and it looks fun.

Before I tell you about my workboxes in detail, let me put a few disclaimers out there.

They look difficult, complicated, expensive, time-consuming and like lots and lots of work. These are all myths.

Getting everything organized in my mind, how I wanted them to work, was difficult and complicated. I am not a naturally organized personality. Well, I am, but I'm more of the organized chaos is my organization kind of person. But this requires those organizing skills my sis-in-law possesses. She's the kind of person that finds cleaning and organizing relaxing, and in college this is exactly what she would do to chill out. In fact, she once asked if she could clean and organize my house while we were out of town, to take a break from studying for finals.
Um, let me think about that... YA!

Anyway, it has to be the kind of organizing a 3 and 5 year-old can understand; simple. I always try to make things way more complicated, so I had to really work at simplify, organize, and plan. But I did it, and I'm so glad I did.

Once I decided which subjects I wanted in my workboxes and how my day would look, thanks to my BFF who is a Kindergarten teacher, what seemed complicated became easy.

I did not have the resources to go to Ikea and buy all those really cool boxes and organizers and shelves and desks and stuff that I would really, REALLY love to have. In fact, I had to keep this super cheap, like less than $50 cheap. And I did it.

First I used what I already had.

Packing up all my books and dining table to make room for school.

I cleaned off a bookcase in my dining room, moved out the dining table we never, ever use and turned it into a sensory learning, play area with workboxes. It's much more useful now. Who cares if my house looks like kids live in it. They do!

The boxes on the left are Kindergarten for Pudge, and the ones on the right are Preschool for Stinkerbell. I would have liked to have had pink and blue, but Dollar Tree only carried blue. You can get these boxes for around $2 at Walmart in the dish drainers in different colors.

Our schoolroom after a day of school.

I just looooove Dollar Tree. I found my boxes, baskets, toys and games and manipulatives, etc. all at Dollar Tree.

I also bought most of the workbooks we are using for teaching time at Dollar Tree. I found a Teacher's Lesson plan book at Target in the dollar section, on sale for $.50!!! I bought 3! And they work perfect for preschool and Kindergarten, with large areas to write everything out.

So here's how our school day goes.

We start with Calendar/group time.

Pledge of Allegiance and prayer
Calendar; count up to the day.
Sing Days of the Week to the tune of The Adam's Family
Sing months of the year and do the Macarena
Talk about the season and the weather
Sing the ABC's.

Big kids then go work on independent work while I teach the little ones.

I start with teaching time. This is my one-on-one time that I spend actually teaching them, rather than their time learning through play.

Right now I'm using Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons for my Kindergarten Language Arts. After the 10-20 minute lesson we do a workbook page on math, colors, shape, or other Kindergarten skills that we bought at Dollar Tree.

Then they are free to do their workboxes, and man are they fun!

On Fridays we review and do science using A Beka 1st grade science.

I have stamps, markers, water beads, glue, construction paper, dry erase board, chalk board, games, toys, window markers and all kinds of fun I put in the workboxes. Of course each thing reinforces the letter, number, science or skill they are learning for the day. I might put the chalkboard and chalk in a box and have him write the letter on it. Then he is free to draw and play as he wishes.

Or I might put numbers in a box and we play a hopscotch game on the floor with them.

Or sidewalk chalk lets us go outside and draw our numbers, letters and anything else we want to draw.

Workboxes are all about play.

I found this wonderful website that taught me how to teach my children and let them play while they learn. It's called Play at Home Mom. This is where I learned about sensory learning and water beads. They are so much fun! It's also where I get most of my ideas, including how to set up the "classroom".

I also use alot of stuff from Confessions of a Homeschooler and Raising Rockstar Preschoolers too.

I use what I have, and spend a little bit on new things each pay period. It's completely worth the little bit that I spend for the way that they are learning now. Pudge always struggled learning his letters through the last year with a sit-down-and-teach method. But now, when we are reading books he'll point out our letter of the week and say, "Look, it's the letter we're learning!"

And since we starting his reading lessons, he is doing amazing, with no struggle at all.

I wish I had known to do this a year ago, I might have saved myself alot of frustration.

When I first started looking at how these women did all this stuff, I thought, "How in the world do they have time for all that?" I don't have time to do all that!

I figured it out. It's not as time consuming as it looks. The night before, I change out my workboxes for new activities, which takes no time because I plan out all the activities for each day at least one week ahead of time. So I just look at my planner and put it out.

Any work they did that day, like crafts, I put in a 3-ring binder to save.

In the course of a day, I spend 10 minutes teaching and then they spend anywhere from 10 minutes to hours playing with their workboxes. Sometimes, the older ones come and play the games with them. And sometimes, halfway through the day they ask to play with their workboxes again.

Sure, you can go on and spend more time learning!

I love my workboxes, and I spend less time doing school and preparing for school and being utterly frustrated and cranky, than I did before. Now I spend lots of time playing and laughing and enjoying my children.

Sorting and counting money for our Numbers boxes and using dimes to count by tens.

She was supposed to glue yarn to her letter Y, but she just painted it with glue. And that was just fine.

My favorite thing about learning through play. When she was done sorting her money, she set them out on the tiles in our kitchen like this and skipped along side them. I'm sure this is some sort of motor skill and learning to sort skill. Allowing her the freedom to play and learn resulted in her expanding her learning even further. Of course I was picking up money the rest of the day. But totally worth it!

Baby boy during school, the kids learning to care for him. Yes, that is a pillow pet under his head. But they were so sweet to take such good care of him. They are learning alot from that little guy.

Yarn by # I bought at the Dollar Tree. So, he didn't do it perfectly, but he got the right color onthe right number and had fun doing it. That's what matters.

WATER BEADS!!!

You can buy these at Wal-mart in the floral section for about $2. They are tiny little beads in all different colors. You put them in water and, Surprise! They expand to these fun, squishy, sensory learning activity for the kiddos. They played with them for days and days.

NEXT Worldwide and The Wilsons

2011-09-12T12:11:00.000-07:00

If you don't mind, I would like to introduce you to some very special people that I know personally. This is the first of several blogs that will introduce some amazing people to you, asking you to pray for them and to consider how you can be a part of their ministry. They are missionaries, from different walks of life, different organizations, on different continents, doing all kinds of different things, all for one single purpose; the glory of God!

Meet the Wilsons!

Keri Wilson has been a friend of mine for 7 years now. We met while our husbands were attending seminary in New Orleans and we both attended the same play group. Our kids were just toddlers at the time, and through afternoons at McDonald's, the park, and even a fun trip to the beach, Keri and I grew to know each other more and more over the course of two years.

However, it wasn't until after we had left seminary that our friendship grew into what it is today. We kept in contact through email, and eventually Facebook.

About 3 years ago, Keri and her husband, Ron, were thrust into a whirlwind of obedience and chaos as they began to seek God's next step for their life. Ron was a youth minister in Kentucky and both he and Keri felt God was leading them to become part of a missions organization called Next Worldwide.

The couple struggled through a few concerns over a period of 6 months before they committed to becoming missionaries. At that point they began to raise funds to support their new mission in leading youth in missions.

Next Worldwide is a ministry that partners with missionaries all over the world to plant churches. However, they do it in a unique way that impacts our own culture and society. They lead youth to be the missionaries.

While serving as a youth pastor on staff at church, Ron found that mission trips were the key to unlocking the heart of a youth to the glory of God. As a missionary for Next, Ron leads youth groups to Ecuador, Africa, Romania and other countries to aid in the planting of churches. Ron stays connected to the missionaries in those places and makes several trips to do the work for those church plants.

In essence, Next uses the youth to be the hands and feet of the work needed for reaching a lost world with the Gospel.

But that is not all.

The youth are impacted as much as the culture to which they travel. Ron uses the time he has with each youth group to teach and disciple them to a closer relationship with Christ. Their hearts are soft and open and ready to hear in a way they have never heard before, while they are on mission, serving God and His Great Commission without the interruptions and distractions of every day life. Next found a unique way to expand the mission field to not only a foreign, unreached people, but also to the next generation as well.

Ron and Keri live in Roanoke, TX with their 3 kids, Halle, Landry and Brady. They love football, youth, and most of all God. I have never met a person like Keri who inspires me, encourages me with the truth, and displays the rewards of persevering in faith.

Ron and Keri depend on raising support in order to fund their mission work and just as importantly, to live and raise their children. Currently, they have received about 64% of what they need for the year. They are needing more people to partner with them in prayer and financially. Please pray about how you can help support these missionaries.

If you feel God is leading you to support the Wilsons financially, or know of someone who might, please go here and make a donation to their ministry and share this information. Make sure you choose that the donation go directly to Ron Wilson on the staff.

If you cannot help support the Wilson's financially, would you please pray for this precious family. So often Ron leaves his family behind to be the missionary. Keri and her kids have a wonderful attitude about sending their daddy off to reach a lost world. They do it with a happy heart. But it is still difficult for them and it often requires the strength only God can give.

Ron also needs prayer as he not only reaches new cultures and peoples with the Gospel, but his responsibility is great as he plans, leads, teaches and disciples each group that becomes missionaries along side him.

If you are interested in knowing more about taking a youth group with Next, go here to get more information.

You can help us spread the word. If you have a blog, would you consider putting a link to this for the Wilsons, or to your Facebook or twitter page? The more people that know, the more support and prayer we can help raise for a family who has surrendered their life of comfort and security for an even greater purpose: to see nations, including our own, come to know our Savior.

How delightful it is to see approaching over the mountains the feet of a messenger who announces peace,a messenger who brings good news, who announces deliverance,who says to Zion, “Your God reigns!”

Isaiah 52:7

*The Wilsons did not ask me to do this for them. God has not sent me, but He has asked me to support those He has sent, and this is just one way I am supporting God's work, and one way I can spread the ~~word~~ WORD.

First Day of School and Workboxes

2011-09-06T18:48:00.000-07:00

We have been doing a little bit of school here and there throughout the summer, minus about 6 or 7 weeks when the baby came and we were busy with other things.

But today is officially our first day of school for the 2011-2012 school year. It took me a while to get us all ready for today, mostly because I had to get ready for it in between feeding and rocking and caring for a baby. I forgot how needy those newborns can be.

But, alas we were ready, mostly. It wasn't going over curriculum and lesson planning that took my preparation. It was workboxes.

This summer I spent a couple days in Texas with my friend Keri, and she mentioned workboxes to me. I had seen them on blogs, but they looked to hard, complicated, time consuming, and detailed for me. (By the way, I'm not a type A personality, just the opposite, so details are not my forte.)

But I decided to look into them again and I'm so glad I did. Thanks to workboxes my first day of school was fun, stress-free, and smooth sailing. Mostly because workboxes allow the kids to know exactly what is expected of them for the day, they can actually see it.

I am going to break this up into two blog posts. The first will be workboxes for my grade school kids and the second will be workboxes for my preschool and kindergarten kids.

I am so very fortunately to have a BFF that is also a kindergarten teacher and she basically told me what to do. So, we started out our day with what I call group/calendar time. First thing, we say our pledge to flag, then pray for our day.

All this is followed with counting to the day we are on, on our calendar. Then singing the days of the week to the tune of The Adam's Family. Then we sang the months of the year and did the Macarana dance. We talked about the weather and then sang our ABC's.

Yes, even my 2nd and 4th grader were required to join in all this because I want them to see it as the official start of our day AND help the little ones learn these things. They had just as much fun as the little ones did though.

Once we finished our group time, we had family worship time. I've been doing this for over a year now.

We have kid's worship on Cd's and each of us picks out a song to sing. We dance and sing and have lots of fun playing air guitar or air drums. It is the highlight of my day to watch my kids worship and play, and find worship as something fun.

After worship I do Bible study with the kids, but usually not all together. I usually do something geared toward the older ones and then a separate one geared toward the younger ones.

However, we are in the middle of a wonderful study that they all enjoy equally. We are watching the movie, How To Study Your Bible, by Kay Arthur.

There is a Bible study that goes along with it, but we're just keeping it simple for now and talking a little about what they learn and how to use it. They love this video and it was worth every penny because they are learning to study the Bible for themselves, something I didn't learn until I was in college.

After Bible study, I teach the little ones while the big ones get started on whatever they want to do first.

Their workboxes look like this.

I got the templates from Homeschool Creations and I'm following her system. It's brilliant.

They can take each card of and turn it over when they have finished their assignment for the day. And they can go to the next day and finish the assignment for however many days they want.

I don't have cards for their individual chores, so I just wrote out with a dry-erase marker exactly what they should do for their chores next to the chore card.

I also have a workfolder in which I put their work. (Another idea from Homeschool Creations and she has pictures of them too.) If they need my help with it I put a "Mom's Help" card on that day. I put all of one week's worth of work for one subject in one pocket. Each day's work is paper clipped together so they know what to do for one day. Again they can work ahead if they so choose.

Then I keep their books and workfolder in these files that I found at the Goodwill for a dollar or something like that. When they finish one book, then they can move that book to the last file showing me they finished. And all their finished work done on paper goes in the red box underneath.

For the first time, my 2nd grader didn't come to me and ask me what he needed to do next. And he didn't waste time, or "forget" to do something. Since he could see what had been turned over and what was left. Best of all, I didn't have to check on him every second and go over every single thing to make sure he was doing it.

What I like best about workboxes are the rules.

1. You must finish everything on your workgrid by 4PM.
2. I don't care in what order you do it, so long as it is done by 4PM.

3. I don't care WHEN you do it, so long as it is done by 4PM.

4. Chores are the exception, they should be finished by group-time so that my trash will not miss getting to the curb in time for the trash truck, or so that my bathroom is not a pig sty all day long.

5. Reading/quiet time will always be at the same time, every day, and all together for naptime at 1PM.

This gives them so much freedom to choose what and when and how they do their work rather than me standing over them with a timer telling them they have 10 minutes to do their handwriting and then they must do their math for 30 minutes. That just leads to us both getting frustrated when it doesn't work into my little time slot. This method has taken away my stress.

The last rule is this:

If you don't finish all your work by 4PM, you will not play or eat dinner until it is all finished. If you do not finish by 4PM for several days in a row, then Mom will start to decide when and where and how you will get it all done.

It was wonderful!

The only complaint I have is that I need a few more cards that say things like "journal". I wish I had the skills to make these myself to my own specifications, but I don't. I think I'm going to have to learn though.

A New Season of Life

2011-08-23T18:47:00.000-07:00

It was a hot July afternoon. I had a long drive ahead of me, and had already driven a long way. I was on my way to see my doctor with 3 little boys and a 4 week-old baby girl in my Suburban. I had blocked all of them out as tears streamed down my face.

I tried to control the sobs for fear that I might not be able to see the road, but no matter how much I tried to calm myself, the sobs became greater and greater the closer I came to my destination.

I had made a decision months before. Baby girl would be my last baby. I was on my way to the doctor to schedule a surgery that would end my ability to get pregnant.

You see, pregnancy was just too hard on my already twisted spine. My physical therapist had told me that it was twisted and off to the side due to the injuries I suffered as a child. Not only that, but my aching neck had some degeneration in it already at 29 years of age. My back hurt me almost constantly without carrying another human being around in my abdomen. But add the weight of a growing child and my burden was almost too much to bear.

Then there is the morning sickness. With each child the morning sickness became much worse. It wasn't as bad as other women I know, but the thought of being that sick for that long again was terrifying.

However, despite all my logical and reasonable arguments against having baby #5, I could do nothing but sob at the thought of Baby Girl being my very last one.

As I sobbed even harder I pleaded "Lord, I don't want to do this! I don't want to do this!"

The thought kept running through my mind. What if God wants to give me another child, but I don't allow him to? What if I live life without a child that God intended for me?

Suddenly a peace came over me. I heard in my heart my Loving Father say, "Then don't."

"What did you say, Lord?" I asked.

"Then don't, Child. Don't have the surgery. You don't have to do anything. Just don't."

The tears stopped, my body relaxed and I breathed deep.

I... don't have to do this!

I made the decision and called my Beloved. I worried he might be mad, but he was not. He did not want me to go through with anything that upset me so greatly.

A little while later I saw my doctor.

"So, you still want to do the tubal?" she asked.

"Nope! I changed my mind!" I said with a smile.

She just grinned an "I told you so" grin at me. She would not do the surgery immediately following the birth of my baby. She made me wait 6 weeks, and now I knew that she was a wise ~~doctor~~ woman.

Almost three years after that doctors visit, I made the decision that there would most likely be a baby #5, but he/she would be adopted. No more pregnancies for me, and I was happy with that decision.

My Beloved and I talked and made the decision that he would have the surgery within a couple of months and we would move on with life.

Then God moved in a way I never expected. I was pregnant!

I cried and sobbed and asked God why He would upset my plans in such a way. But then I fell in love with another sweet little boy and morning sickness, back pain, and even weight gain were no match for his chubby little cheeks and steel blue eyes.

Now we have a sweet little angel. (Okay, so his cheeks aren't chubby in this picture, but it was taken 5 weeks ago and he has put on a ~~little~~ lot of chub since!)

But the issue was raised again, should I have the surgery? I chose to try again.

My drive to the doctor was not rudely interrupted with sobs and tears. I was happy and excited.

I worried about the day of the surgery. How would I feel?

I never questioned our decision, cried, or felt sad.

However, I was required to have the surgery at the Women's Center, where I also gave birth and where I knew lots of little newborn babies lay in the nursery just one floor above me, while other women labored just down the hall from me. I had a tinge of sorrow that I would never again hold my own little newborn. But it passed.

I did, however, tell my doctor that this procedure should not be performed so close to those tiny little angels, but rather in a daycare, where I would be required to walk directly through a busting-at-the-seams 2 and 3 year-old class on my way to my surgery prep. It would make it much easier.

It has been 6 days since my surgery and I have not at any point regretted my decision. I do, however, regret letting them cut me open instead of my Beloved. I am in PAIN!

I have a new found respect and sympathy for those that have c-sections.

I looked at my little 8 week-old chunky monkey tonight and thought, "I will never again have an 8 week-old."

Yes, that makes me sad, but not remorseful of my decision.

A new season of my life is beginning as a decade-long season is ending. My baby days are over and I have so much to look forward to in this next season of our life. It is time for me to physically regain strength, stamina, and health that I have let go over the last 10 years of pregnancy and babies.

It is time to focus on older-children activities and let our kids grow up.

I am now so grateful that my Father in Heaven was loving enough to warn me when I was off track, gently bring me back so I wouldn't miss any of His blessings, and give me peace when I finally found the right track.

I love the seasons of life and how they are constantly changing, never allowing us to become bored with our life. There is no rut. In fact, with 4 boys and a feisty little girl, we cut ruts everywhere we go.

Stinkerbell Days

2011-08-16T19:31:00.000-07:00

When I had a little girl, I was shocked and elated. After 3 boys, I expected to be daughterless my whole life. Then along came little Stinkerbell.

I imagined what kind of little girl she would be. She would be just like me, no doubt. Quiet, demure, girly and kind. She would obey without hesitation, because to break a rule or disobey is utter terror. She would only need to be corrected with a stern look, and to give her such a look would be enough to bring her to tears of shame, devastated that she required such a look.

I imagined a little angel, anxious to dance and sing like little girls do. I pictured her growing into a sweet, and gentle little lady

I just knew that as soon as she was old enough to move, she would regularly climb into her daddy's adoring arms, charming him with her beauty and grace. Yes, she was the angel that would be daddy's little girl.

Sweet, beautiful, gentle, quiet, and kind.

She is some of those things. She can be sweet, and she is definitely a beauty. She loves all things girl; pink, flowers, ballet, shoes and dresses, purses and hats. Daddy absolutely adores her and you can most often find him wrapped around her little finger.

But this is the girl, I never expected.

She is loud, and demanding. Stinkerbell loves to take charge and when she does not get her way, everyone within a 10 mile radius knows she is unhappy. She is aggressive and not afraid of consequences.

She is like a whirlwind storm that shows up in an instant, and before you can blink there is a disaster of permanent marker, piles of toilet paper, toys, food, books, bedding or crayons strewn about. She has ruined furniture, mops, yards, and so much more I cannot even remember.

Punishment, or threat of punishment does not change the play or curiosity that drives her disaster ridden days. She will have her day, even if it means punishment in the end.

She loves mud and all things dirty. She plays swords and guns and happily walks her older, 5 year-old brother to the bathroom when he is too scared to go alone. I have no doubt she would destroy in an instant any monster that threatened her brother's safety. She is afraid of nothing!

Stinkerbell is a force to be reckoned with, yet, there is a compassion, kindness, and gentleness that lurks behind those outspoken and bold eyes. She melts our hearts with her sweetness and love.

I am still trying to figure out how to balance the angel and the rebel. These days, with a newborn in the house, she wears me out. Some days, she makes me want to cry, and she's only three. Some days, I wish that she still took 2 or 3 hour naps, just so I could have a moment without a storm.

In the meantime, she keeps things exciting in the Mykytiuk household, and it wouldn't be the same without her.

Rewarded, Gifted, and Blessed

2011-07-17T18:55:00.000-07:00

Behold, children are a gift of the LORD,

The fruit of the womb is a reward.

Like arrows in the hands of a warrior,

So are the children of one's youth.

How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them;

Psalm 127:3-5a

Finally, A Baby

2011-07-15T17:48:00.000-07:00

Yes, it has been a while. Quite a while, in fact, since I have blogged. But I have good reasons for being MIA. I had the most precious baby boy.

The last few weeks pregnant with him were rough. It was all I could do to just make it through my day. I could barely breath, walk, stand, or do anything else that required physical effort. He was big and shutting down every natural function in my body, except what he needed.

I went in for my 38 week check-up, ready to schedule an induction for health reasons. I was positive for Group B strep, and our concern was that my labor, which was very short with baby #4, would not last the full four hours I needed to be able to get the antibiotic I needed in order to protect my boy from an infection that could be fatal. I debated on the risk a long time, until I finally settled on getting a reality check and outside professional and personal perspective from a good friend.

She is a neo-natal nurse, and she sees it all. I asked her what I should do, induce and live through the awful labor of pitocin and induction to get the antibiotic, or risk my natural labor going too quickly to get the antibiotic that could protect him from infection and maybe even death.

Her words made my choice clear. "Amy, I would be induced. I have seen a full-term, healthy baby die in less than 8 hours from GBS."

That settled it. I would be induced.

At 38 weeks I was well on my way to labor. In fact, at my appointment I had progressed as much as I usually do after labor starts. I was a little freaked out, but we scheduled the induction for June 29th anyway. I was certain I would not last the 5 days.

I was already in early labor, I knew what it felt like and it was here. But my contractions were not getting regular but really more tiring, annoying, and sporadic.

By Sunday I was concerned. My baby boy had not moved nearly as much. I had a feeling, deep in my gut, something was not right. I paid close attention to him, doing several kick counts throughout my days, worrying that maybe I should be going to the hospital to have him monitored. My gut just said something was off.

Wednesday finally arrived without a baby in hand. We woke early to make it to the hospital by 6:30. My nurse prepared me with my antibiotic and we waited patiently for the doctor.
I chose to have a more natural induction, and to begin my labor without pitocin, but rather by having the doctor break my water. It was sure to send me into labor, as it had always started or sped up my labor in the past.

By 9AM, my water was broke and I was walking, swaying, rolling on a birth ball to get my labor started.

By noon, labor still had not begun. I still felt something was not quite right.

The night before I had laid in bed and thought, "He's in the wrong position. He's facing the wrong direction."

But now I was in it for good and had forgotten my fears of the previous night.

By noon, I asked to be given pitocin. I was ready to hold my baby boy, and I knew I only had 12 hours after my water was broke before I would have a C-section.

By 1PM, I had started pitocin and I was in full on labor. My doula and husband were working hard to help me through contraction.

Several hours later, I had only progressed a little. A couple hours later, just a little more. By 5PM, I had made so little progress, I knew that my fears were true, something was wrong. I resigned myself to the fact that I would probably have a C-section. There was no need to continue suffering. I was exhausted.

So I asked for an epidural and decided to rest until the doctor made the call to cut me open.

After getting my epidural, the nurse checked on the baby to discover my intuition was correct. He was sitting up high on my right hip, rather than where he needed to be so that my labor would progress. He was facing the wrong direction, which explained my painful back labor.

My nurse placed me on my right side to try to get the stubborn little boy to move into position.

Twenty minutes later, I was ready to deliver a healthy little boy!

Amazing!

If only I had known earlier in the labor what was wrong, maybe I could have saved myself alot of work. However, my only goal was to have a healthy baby.

Zebulun "Zeb" Brantley Mykytiuk was born at 6:29PM on July 29th. He weighed 7.8 pounds and is absolutely beautiful! He came out with a little bruising on his forehead and a black eye, I assume from being squished against my hip bone for so long.

He is the best baby! He doesn't spit up, he doesn't cry unless he's dirty or hungry, and he sleeps like a champ!

The other kids adore him and can't wait to hold him and baby sit him while I shower. They can't keep their hands or lips off his cute little face. I am a proud Mama, not just of my new little man, but all my sweet kids.

I couldn't be happier or more blessed.

Living by Faith, Not by Sight

2011-05-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

Life is changing, fast.

The last few weeks have brought major changes to our circumstances and situation. It is exciting to watch what God is doing in our lives.

It started a couple of weeks ago when we got a phenomenal offer on our house, only more than a year after we put it on the market.

The couple could have done a short sale and got the house for a lot less, but they felt that God was telling them to offer the entire payoff for us. So, now we are playing the waiting game with the mortgage company and all the paperwork that is ahead.

Last week my Beloved got a phone call from a man that wanted to hire him. For 11 months he has been un/self employed, and in those 11 months he has looked extensively for full time employment with no doors opening. It has been tough to trust God through it all. And we have tried so hard so many times, only to finally, at the time God was ready, have a guy contact him and offer him a job out of the blue. We never pictured him doing this kind of work (driving), but he is happy to do it.

"A person plans his course, but the LORD directs his steps." Proverbs 16:9

Now we are looking for a new home, adjusting to a new family schedule, and preparing for a new baby all at the same time.

The last year has been so tough, testing my faith at every turn. And, not too long ago, I said that I was glad I had been through it, but I never want to go through it again.

However, I have changed my mind. I want to live life like I have over the last year. I want my sight to grow less as my faith grows more. I want to be in a place constantly that my only reliance is on God himself. I want to experience God in ministry, family, church, and every day life, the way that I have come to know Him this last year.

Spiritually, this has been the best year of my life. I have grown more in the last year in my faith, than my entire life combined. My longing for God is incredible, and the urgency to know Him more, teach my children every possible lesson I can about Him, and to tell others about Him has become forefront in my life. There is an urgency in my heart.

The urgency grows stronger as I watch natural disasters rip apart lives around me and all across this groaning earth. The urgency grows stronger as I watch my children play and laugh and sing and praise God during family worship time. My urgency grows stronger as I sit at a red light, watching each car pass by wondering if those lives inside that car will spend eternity in heaven or hell, and my heart breaking knowing that the chances that I will see them in heaven are very slim.

I don't want my life to change, to become better or more comfortable. I don't want to experience the security the world has to offer, which has most recently been revealed as the worst kind of security as tornadoes rip through cities, floods drown lives, and earthquakes shake civilizations apart.

I want to rely on the unending supply flowing from the throne of God, just like George Muller did.

Just yesterday I received a 30- day devotional book, George Muller; Faith.

I could not wait to get started, the man has been an inspiration to me this year. His life is a testimony to the grace God wants to show us all, if we will just let our faith grow as Muller did.

I am showing self-control by not reading the book all at once, but holding back one lesson per day, knowing that letting them steep within my heart will give me better understanding.

Muller was a man that renounced any kind of salary and refused to solicit any person for financial support. He opened and cared for orphanages without any promise of funding or an income. His first orphanage was opened in 1836, when he provided a home for thirty orphaned children.

Muller spent 63 years living with no income or salary or funding of any kind. Yet in those 63 years he received nearly one and a half million pounds as an answer to his prayers. In his lifetime he cared for 10,000 children.

I want to be like George Muller, and experience my faith grow in remarkable ways.

Today I read about persevering in faith. He talked about praying for years, patiently waiting for the blessing to be granted. And his encouragement was to pray with fervor, not doubting that God's answer would come.

I needed to hear this. Praying for God to reveal His plan to us has become difficult for me. But, my faith is in tact and bigger than ever, and I eagerly await the answer, just as I have received the answer to multiple prayers recently; the selling of our house, the new job, the opportunity to move on to a new life, and the very fervent prayer for a baby- of course my prayer included adoption, but who am I to argue with God's answer, even if it doesn't come in the form I expected.

This week, I celebrate the end of the best year of my life and the beginning of even better years to come living by faith and not by sight.

Financial Peace and the Lie Within

2011-05-20T14:17:00.000-07:00

The first time I traveled to Colorado to see my Beloved and to meet all of his family, I stayed with his grandma, Carol.

Carol was a nut. The first time my Beloved and his dad told me about her, they said she was crazy. I just laughed, not quite knowing what to expect. But crazy is exactly right. She was one of the most precious crazies in the whole world.

She was an eccentric woman and we never knew what she might say or do next to surprise us all. In fact, when she passed away, the entire family found out that she had, her entire life, celebrated her birthday a day off from her actual birthday. No one knew her true date of birth, until she was gone! I wonder, sometimes, if she knew her true birthday. This was the kind of crazy Carol was.

But there was a wonderfulness about her that I saw reflected in my Beloved who spent countless hours with her while growing up. She gave, without hesitation, to anyone in need. She shared Jesus with wild abandon, not afraid of being thought "crazy" by the local small town community.

I remember one particular time, we visited her and she was telling us about a little girl that had just been hit by a car a few days earlier and died. Carol was saddened over the whole ordeal, but she told us all about how she had had the opportunity to share Jesus with that little girl, just a short time before she died. Carol told us the little girl had indeed become a follower of Jesus through their conversations. She found comfort in knowing that she had not missed an opportunity with that girl in her short life, to make sure she knew who Jesus was. She was sad to have lost such a young one in the community, but she gladly rejoiced knowing that that little girl was dancing in heaven because Carol shared Jesus with her without reservation.

The other remarkable thing about Carol was her willingness to give her money and possessions away at a moment's notice, without hesitation.

Pictures of missionaries were always on Carol's refrigerator. She didn't just put their picture up to think about them, or pray for them. They were always missionaries she had supported financially.

I know lots of people support missionaries, but it was a true sacrifice for Carol and her husband, Walter. They were an elderly retired couple, living on social security and retirement. They didn't live in a big fancy retired couple's house. It was a small double-wide mobile home that was not filled with lots of fancy or new things. They did not enjoy the comfort of a fulfilling retirement. They struggled just as many elderly do, trying to make ends meet.

However, their lack of finances never stopped Carol from finding some way to give money to a young person willing to travel across the world to share the Gospel, including her own grandchildren.

One summer, after our first baby was born, we took a risk and traveled to Colorado to visit with family. We did not have the money to make it to Colorado and back, but we just trusted that God would provide for us so that my Beloved could see his family.

As we loaded our car to start our 12 hour journey home to Oklahoma, we did not have enough money to buy the gas to get home. Grandma Carol came out to tell us goodbye and asked, "Do you have what you need to get home?"

My Beloved said, "No, but we'll make it."

Carol hugged us and told us to wait until she got back before we left.

She came back a few minutes later after visiting the bank. She had cashed a couple of savings bonds given to her by her family, in order to give us the money to make it home. Carol, not only gave from her surplus, but she gave from her savings, and her deficit, and poverty as well.

I never heard her, or saw her want for anything despite her radical giving. In fact, she always had enough food to feed a big family when the time came. She always had heat in her home, and she always had exactly what she needed.

When Carol passed away, she left nothing of great monetary value to her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. In fact, the family had to sell everything she owned in order to pay for the care of Walter after she passed away.

But Carol left something of far greater value to her family than a big monetary inheritance; she left the legacy of Christ to her descendants.

When Carol left this earth and went home, she left behind a granddaughter who is a missionary in Asia and a grandson that is a pastor, and has been a missionary to two continents. She left children and grandchildren that live a life that is fully surrendered to Christ, ministering in churches, communities and to individuals.

Today's Christian culture says that Carol was irresponsible. A good steward would plan and save and work toward having more money, because being a "good steward" means that when you follow these steps to keeping more money, you have more money to give away. Which is good. I agree completely and wholly with the concept of having more to give more.

But many Christians spend time saving, and getting out of debt and making more money, not so they can give more away, but so that they can get bigger, better, nicer, newer, fancier, and more expensive things.

I've seen Christians become obsessed and greedy with how much money they can save, just so they can go spend it on a bigger flat screen TV, or a newer, nicer car, or a bigger, newer house.

I have never heard a Christian talk about going through these financial classes and learning how to get themselves out of debt and save, so that they can support a missionary on the mission field, or give it away to someone or something, receiving absolutely nothing back.

I believe we have missed the boat. We have missed the point God was trying to tell us when it comes to good stewardship of our resources.

Our society went into incredible amounts of debt, and Christians stepped forward to teach us how to be better stewards with our money. But we went from buying things for ourselves we could not afford and putting ourselves into debt, to saving our money until we can buy things for ourselves without debt. We never got the point.

What is the point?

The point is... money is NOT the point. Acquiring money, keeping money, making sure we live in a safe place where we have emergency funds, a financial cushion, a back up plan, and an inheritance for our children, is NOT the point.

These things are not a bad idea, but they are useless! They are pointless when it comes to the Christian life, and as surely as our emergency fund gives us comfort, it will be gone tomorrow with tomorrow's emergency.

Our security and comfort comes from the one who owns everything in the earth, including our money.

"The Lord owns the earth and all it contains, the world and all who live in it." Psalm 24:1

An emergency fund is a good idea, but we must be willing, at any given moment, to part with whatever money we have acquired, whether it was saved for a new TV, or an emergency fund. We must have a heart that is willing to part with our earthly possessions in order to follow Jesus.

Saving and planning have made a lot of people wealthy and given many people lots of really nice possessions, and comfortable and secure lifestyle. But I wonder how they would be regarded in heaven standing next to Carol, a woman who regarded things and money as useless to her if it was not used for the Kingdom of heaven.

Many people have planned and saved and spent their whole life preparing to live a nice, comfortable, secure life only to have it taken away by job loss, fraud, the economy, or the stock market.

I know many people who spent their life working to gain more and more money, only to have it ripped from their hands leaving them with nothing to hold on to, except Jesus. And I suspect, that that was God's plan all along.
He does not want to be outdone by something as fleeting as a pile of money, savings account, or stocks and bonds. He desires to have us all to Himself, relying on nothing and no one, except for Him. When we find our security in our savings and emergency funds, we have broken the first and second commandments. We no longer have a need for God. We no longer look to Him for our every day security and comfort because we know if anything bad happens, we have got it under control. We make ourselves into God.

Jesus had alot to say about being good stewards of our resources. He said,

"Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added to you." Matthew 6:33

"These things" that Jesus was referring to was clothing, and food. He wasn't even talking about a new car, TV or bigger house. He was just referring to the basic necessities of life!

Essentially, Jesus was saying, forget about buying new clothes, or your next meal. Look at me, look to Me! Look at what I say, what I want! I'll take care of all that other nonsense if you will just look for me.

Unfortunately, following Jesus' command isn't easy. When we start to seek God, His Kingdom and His righteousness, He will take care of those basic necessities, but He won't always provide all those nice little things we like to have so much.

He may ask us to go live in a hut in a jungle and translate the Bible into another language somewhere in the world. He may ask us to drive our car until it can drive no longer, rather than trading it in and buying a new one every 2 or 3 years. This might mean we drive an old junker.

He might ask us to give up TV, or give away something precious.

Most Christians, although they say they are willing to and do seek God and His Kingdom above anything else, won't be ready for Jesus' response.

There was a man in the Bible who thought he could seek God's kingdom first and foremost.

He came to Jesus and asked Jesus if he coudl follow Him. Jesus told the man that He could definitely be a follower, but...
Yes, there was a "but".

The man was very wealthy. Of course Jesus knew of the man's wealth, because as God, He knows everything and owns everything, even that man's wealth.

Jesus told the young man that he had to give everything, not just some of his wealth, but everything, away.

The Bible says that the man went away sad. He did not give up his wealth and follow Jesus. He held on to what gave him peace and comfort.

Obviously, the young man did not see the wealth he could find in Jesus was far more valuable than any amount of money, or any thing he could possess on this earth. If he had just been willing to give it all up, his wealth would have multiplied beyond his dreams!

Jesus did not ask the man to give up his wealth because it was a sin to be wealthy, but Jesus asked him to give it up, because he knew that the man regarded his money higher than he did God. Jesus knew that the young man wanted to follow him without cost, as long as he was able to hang on to what gave him security and comfort. But God wouldn't compete with a facade of security and comfort.

Many people, Christian people, who have bought into the lie of saving and spending in order to be good stewards, would look at Grandma Carol and say she was irresponsible. They would say that God gave her a brain and common sense and she should have been better with her money.

But I wonder what Jesus would say about Carol and her willingness to give whatever resource she possessed away, at the drop of a hat, without a worry on her heart of how she would make it through life.

There is a story in the Bible that tells us exactly what Jesus thinks of Carol, and other people like her. It is the story of the widow and her two mites.

Jesus was taking the time to teach his disciples that all the religious leaders who were wealthy, and dressed nice and acted important out in public, were to be treated with caution. He said, "...these will receive greater condemnation." Mark 12:40b

Then he brought the disciples' attention to the offering that was being collected. Lots of very wealthy people were putting in large amounts of money into the treasury. What a wonderful gift they had, to offer to God so much money. They had worked hard, made lots of money, saved lots of money, and now they had lots of money to give back to God.

But Jesus brought everyone's attention to a poor widow. She put in the treasury two copper coins, worth roughly 1 cent.

She could have given just one coin. After all, the law said that God only requires 1/10 of what we have, and one coin would have been half, much more than 1/10.

But the widow did not act responsibly. She did not give half of what she had and keep the other half to be able to provide for herself a little something.

The widow put 100% of everything she possessed into the treasury. She acted irresponsibly just as Carol had done all her life.

In response to her gift Jesus said,

"Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the contributors to the treasury; for they all put in out of their surplus, but she out of her poverty, put in all she owned, all she had to live on." Mark 12:43b-44

The Bible doesn't tell us what happened to that widow, but I doubt that Jesus allowed that woman to go home and starve and die. I wish I knew what happened to her next.

Maybe as the woman walked home, she found two more coins, to buy some flour and oil and make some bread for herself. But I wonder if she would have walked back and given those two coins to the treasury as well.

Maybe an old friend invited her over for dinner.

Maybe the widow went hungry that night. I doubt that she complained to God if she did. I would imagine that she thanked God for the opportunity to give him something.

I'd like to think of her and Carol in heaven, as good friends. Both had similar hearts. They did not worry about what they would eat or drink or wear, holding tightly onto the money that was rightly theirs.

Carol worried about the little girl who didn't know Jesus. Carol worried about the couple who had been called to be missionaries, but needed help financially to get there. Carol worried about whether her children and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren knew Jesus.

So today, Grandma Carol still does not possess any large amounts of money in heaven, nor does her family. But she sits before the throne of God, honored and adored by her Savior because she sought first, not money or the latest fashions or a new house, but God's kingdom and his righteousness.

Prosperous or poor? Blessed or Not?

2011-05-10T11:41:00.000-07:00

The word prosperity can conjure every emotion from happiness to depression, and excitement to anger. It depends on where you fall on the prosperity scale.

Are you struggling financially? Then you probably become angry at someone who is experiencing financial prosperity.

Did you just find out you have beat cancer and are now healthy? Then your prosperity lies in your new found health and brings about joy and celebration.

We rarely use the word prosperity, though. We like the word blessing much better.

Blessings.

We love to use the word, blessed.

"Spending the day with my kids, I'm so blessed."

"My husband just cleaned the kitchen for me, I am blessed."

We count our blessings.

1. I have a home, a warm bed, and clothes on my back and food to eat. I am blessed.
2. I have a wonderful family, I am blessed.
3. We are all healthy, I am blessed.
4. God has saved me, I am blessed.
5. I have a job, I am blessed.

The blessings continue on and on like this.

I see on Facebook people write things like, "I have such a wonderful life, I am so blessed."

But I never see anyone write something like, "My husband just lost his job, how blessed we are!"

Or, "I just found out I have stage-4 cancer and probably won't live through it. I am so blessed!"

So I began to wonder, why are some people so incredibly blessed in their finances and physical health and even in their relationships while others struggle to make ends meet, or keep their bodies in decent physical health, or find fulfillment and joy in relationships?

Does God punish us by withholding blessings? Why give me 5 children, while my good friend has a burning desire to be able to have one child?

I looked at what prosperity means in the Bible, and discovered that prosperity is not financial or physical health. But rather, ultimate prosperity is found in a relationship with God.

But the Bible goes on and on about the blessings that God bestows, or withholds from His people.

Jacob was in love with Rachel, his wife. But he did not love his other wife Leah. God had pity on Leah, the unloved wife. So he blessed Leah with many sons while withholding children from Rachel.

I looked at the story of Noah. He spent 100 years being obedient to God. It was a ridiculous request God made of Noah, to build this gigantic boat, on land, with no water around. He promised one day water would fall from the sky, but that had never happened before. It was crazy!!

Noah sacrificed his occupation for time to work on the ark, which meant he gave up financial prosperity, to be obedient. He sacrificed relationships as those around him must have considered him the wacko who thinks water is going to fall from the sky.

I can imagine the embarrassment his sons must have felt as Noah diligently obeyed, and the strain it put on their relationship with him.

His wife must have become frustrated that Noah spent more time working on that boat, rather than going out and earning a good living for their family. Did she secretly wish she had married someone more "normal"? Noah's relationship with her must have suffered in more ways than we can imagine.

I began to wonder, through the entire century Noah spent building that boat, did his wife or children every say, "I have a dad/husband that is so obedient to the LORD that he does crazy outrageous things. I am so blessed to be part of this!"

Or did Noah ever say, "What a blessing it is to spend 100 years building something so enormous and unfathomable as to its function, and totally dependent on an event that has never happened before. I am truly blessed!"

I imagine that the task must have seemed more like a curse to that family, rather than a blessing.

But in the end, Noah and his family discovered it was indeed their greatest blessing. It was their salvation. His obedience saved the family. Noah's perseverance through what must have seemed at times as an endless task, not only brought salvation to his family, but to all of us who have descended from him. It was a blessing!

So maybe just like Noah, or as Laura Story sings in her song Blessings, your greatest disappointment, challenge, frustration, or hurt could be your greatest blessing.

Happy Easter!

2011-04-22T14:40:00.000-07:00

I hope you will bear with me one more time while I put off blessings, yet again. I had planned on writing about blessings today, but something else came up and I just wanted to share it with you.

My good friend brought up the topic of Easter and its history today while at an Easter party for our kiddos. She has been doing something that few people truly take the time to do, and that is study! I love to hear how people start to delve into what they believe, why they believe it and how it came about. This is what God really wants us to do as Christians, DIG! We need to find out more, learn for ourselves, and quit relying on other people to spoon feed, or even bottle feed us His word.

My friend made the discovery that our Christian holidays, like Easter and Christmas, actually have some roots in pagan holidays.

She is very concerned about how to deal with this issue now. "Eggs were originally a symbol of the fertility goddess, Easter," she stated.

So now, her question has become, "Do I let my kids hunt Easter eggs? How do I keep it about Jesus?"

The same can be said for many of our Christmas traditions. The Christmas tree was originally a pagan symbol as well.

So, as Christians, are we allowing Jesus to be removed from our practices and beliefs by using these symbolic practices in our celebrations?

I began to think about it as well as we talked. I studied up on the origins of Easter as a result and came to my own conclusion.

It is true, there are some pagan roots within our Christian holidays, but they need to be studied in depth to understand how they relate to our own celebrations.

When the early Christians came together and made the decision to celebrate these significant events in Christian history, Jesus' birth and resurrection, they did not place them on the actual day they occurred.

However, no one really knows the exact date of Jesus' birth. It is more likely that he was born in the spring, maybe May, rather than the winter.

We can know more about Jesus' death and resurrection though because we know that Jesus celebrated the Passover the day before his crucifixion.

Here are the facts about Easter and its history.

1. The controversy over the dates have been around since the 1st century. The celebration of Jesus' resurrection in the early first century church was celebrated every Sunday. However, as it became a yearly celebration it was placed around the Hebrew calendar and dates of Passover, which fell in the Jewish month of Nisan on the 14th day.
However, the disputes on the dates have been abundant because Jews celebrated Passover at different times in different cities. The dates are not a fixed day, but rather complicated and calculated. The debate over the accurate date of Passover, and ultimately a day to celebrate the Resurrection lasted hundreds of years.

2. The dates are still built around a complicated calculation of celestial things I do not understand. Sorry. But here's how they do work.
Lent is the beginning of the Easter season, which lasts 45 days, ending on Easter Sunday. The dates are determined not on a pagan celebration, but instead on the dates of Passover, since most of the traditional Easter celebrations stemmed from traditions of Passover as well.

3. Easter is celebrated during the same time that pagans celebrate the Spring Equinox. There is really no connection between the two, other than they happen to be at the same time. Cults had begun to rise up in the ancient world that were similar to Christianity, but false in their teaching. Christians would celebrate their resurrection day on the same day as these cults, in an effort to declare their God to be the one true God.

4. The origin of the name "Easter" is unknown but there are some guesses out there. Some believe that it originated with the goddess Eostreke (a.k.a. Eastre), from the Northern Europe people. Her name was derived from the ancient word for "spring". Likewise, many other goddesses all over the world had similar names.
Another theory is that it came from a name from a Frankish church's festival celebrating Jesus' resurrection, "alba" meaning white. It also has a second meaning "sunrise." By mistake, the second meaning was taken when the festival was translated into German, which became "ostern", possibly another origin of the name, Easter.
But, again, no one really knows where the name came from for certain.

5. Eggs have been a pagan symbol. However, early Christians always used them as a symbol of the resurrected life of Jesus, and the new life we have through his death and resurrection. I think it is a mistake to assume that early Christians simply brought their pagan practices and symbols into their new faith as a way to continue those practices.
Early Christians were strongly warned against leaving their pagan lifestyles and practices behind and becoming a new creation. They were told to change the way they lived, right down to the way they dressed, in order for their to be an outward change, symbolic of the inward change that had occurred in their life when they experienced salvation.
Although, some symbols may have been kept, the meanings of those symbols changed dramatically. The three leaf clover was a pagan symbol for the Irish, but as St. Patrick taught the Irish about God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit as one God, but three, he used the clover as an illustration. It is one leaf, but with three separate leaves, just like the trinity of God. The symbol of the clover changed for those people as they came to know the One true God.

So the question becomes, Is it okay for us to celebrate our traditional Christian holidays on pagan holidays, with symbols that are used in pagan practices?

I say it is up to the individual to determine what is acceptable in their family as meaningful practices. But it is not wrong.

Each family must determine how to proclaim the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus within their family. What practices will make it a significant celebration, remembrance, and teaching tool, and honor our Heavenly Father most?

In our family, Santa Clause, Christmas presents, the Christmas tree, Easter Eggs, Easter baskets, Easter candy, and the Easter bunny are not taboo. But they are not the point either.

We have other traditions that put Christ at the center of our celebrations. We enjoy our time opening presents, and stockings, decorating and hunting eggs, and eating a Sunday lunch with our family. And many times, it is a joy to celebrate and watch as the kids incorporate Jesus into those once pagan traditions. I wouldn't have wanted to miss my 9 year-old draw an empty tomb on an egg just before dying it while telling me the Easter story, completely unsolicited.

But the point is, don't forget the point. Don't let the practices outshine the Savior!

Easter baskets are nice, but Jesus, resurrected and alive, is the real treat!

Are You Still There?

2011-04-21T20:56:00.000-07:00

Have I lost you completely?

I'm sorry I have neglected this blog so. It's been a tough couple of weeks for me. I have been dealing with pregnancy and emotional ups and downs, but I think I finally have gotten control over the whole ordeal.

It seems that MILK is the culprit of all my emotional and mental ups and downs. I wasn't sure, for a while, that I was going to make it, but dairy is now no longer a part of my life and I am feeling GREAT!

Who knew such a simple, staple food could cause so many physical and psychological issues? Not me.

So, now I am back and hoping to get a new post up about prosperity, blessings, and what Jesus had to say about blessings.

Who does Jesus say is blessed? How are they blessed? Am I one He calls blessed?

I will answer these questions for you, hopefully soon.

Tomorrow morning I will be out hunting Easter eggs with my kiddos and their friends, and much of my spare time lately is spent hunting a fantastic deal on homeschool material. But I will be posting soon! Can't wait to share with you all that I am learning!

Blessings to you and your family!

Prosperity is Peace with God

2011-04-13T09:29:00.000-07:00

Most of us think about wealth, health, and success when we hear the word prosperity. I mentioned in my last post about prosperity, that the Bible's definition extends its meaning to peace, especially in relationship with God and others.

A multitude of stories, verses, and passages come to mind when I think of the Biblical definition of prosperity, or Shalom found in Jeremiah 29:11. However, I was astounded to find the connection between this one verse found in the Old Testament, written hundreds of years before Jesus lived, and the teachings of Jesus.

Jesus was teaching the people when he was asked a very important question. A Pharisee, trying to test Jesus, asked, "Which commandment in the law is the greatest?"

Jesus did not hesitate, but instead quoted from Deuteronomy.

"Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’" Matthew 22:37-39

In Jeremiah, God expresses his desire to prosper us, or to give us peace in our relationships with Himself and with others.

In Matthew, Jesus says that having peace in our relationship with God and with others through love, are the greatest two things we can do here on this earth.

Then I must conclude that when God says, "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you," God is basically saying,

"Amy, I have plans for you. My first and foremost plan for you is to be at peace with me through my Son, Jesus Christ. To be reconciled to me and to love me is how I choose to prosper you. There are no riches or blessing on earth that can compare to your eternal salvation, and the prosperity it brings.
I plan to prosper you in relationships with others, so that you might love them, showing them the love I have shown you. And by this love, they will see and know me. (John 13:34-35) And in return, they will experience the prosperity that comes through my Son as well. Their salvation will be your eternal prosperity."

I am ashamed that for years I have read this verse, expecting that because God said He has plans to prosper me, I expected from His hand wealth, health, and success and all kinds of seemingly good things. How meaningless all those things become in light of the true prosperity that the Gospel of Jesus Christ brings to my otherwise meaningless life.

Salvation and reconciliation to a Holy God is the last thing I deserve. Yet my loving Father says, "It is the thing I give you first, and the one thing I desire most, to be loved by YOU."

I can't help but tear up when I see, through the eyes of my heart, The Almighty Creator of all things say to me, "I just want your love more than anything else."

I feel like I did on my wedding day when I first laid eyes on my groom at the end of the aisle, smiling and waiting impatiently for me to join him. I still find it hard to believe that he could really and truly want me, over anyone else in this world.

Yet, with God it's multiplied beyond anything I felt that day with my groom, because this is not just an ordinary man. This is the King of Kings who wants my love and devotion.

Coming Soon!

2011-04-07T11:38:00.000-07:00

The topic of prosperity has taken alot of my time lately. I want to share with you more of what I'm learning, but there is so much, SO MUCH, that goes along with the subject that it is taking me longer to study than I had originally thought.

I have also squished 5 days of the kids' school work into two, leaving me with little time for anything other than school.

Even more importantly, I am finally figuring out how to keep myself going these days.

WARNING! CONFESSION AHEAD!

I suffer from depression during pregnancy. It hits like a ton of bricks and gives no warning of its impending visit.

It hit last week. And while one day may be a glorious wonderful day in which I accomplish my entire to-do list and more, the next 3 days leave me wanting nothing more than my bed, a mountain of pillows surrounding me, and the door of my bedroom securely locked keeping out little and big intruders.

But I think I have finally figured out the trick to keeping me halfway sane through the next 3 months.

1. Keep the house straightened up and never, ever let it get as dirty as it was last week. Gross!

2. Take a nap in the afternoon, period. I need the rest. I feel better, less emotional, and more productive with rest. My kids are treated better, my husband has a nicer wife, and I can experience some happiness in my day.

3. "Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks;" 1Thessalonians 5:16-18

I rejoice that my family (especially my husband) loves me so much that they tolerate my ups and downs, encouraging and praying for me through every day. My kids are a wonderful encouragement to me.
I pray for emotional and mental stability, soundness of mind, and joy despite my feelings.
I give thanks that I can experience joy even in my deepest emotional state, that I can experience the love and grace only God can give. And that my husband is a praying man, constantly praying for the kids and me and striving every day through the difficult mucky mess of my emotions, to understand what it is I need.

Today has been another difficult day for me (but thankfully I finished all the laundry yesterday when I felt good). I received a call from my doctor that I had failed yet another glucose tolerance test. This makes 4 out of 5 pregnancies that I have failed that test, and honestly, I cried when I hung up the phone.

I have tried hard to stay on the gestational diabetes diet, yet it did not help. Now I must, within the next week, take an entire day to do another 3-hour glucose test. I HATE those tests!

My Beloved and I have also hit a strange place in our journey back into ministry. We felt God leading us into a specific ministry, and everything was falling into place. But last week, both of us separately felt the Holy Spirit put the brakes on, for no apparent reason. I know all the "Christian" answers;
It's not time, God knows what's best, Then it's not where you want to be, blah blah, etc. etc.

But it still is hard to accept that we may not be moving forward, yet again. I just keep telling myself we just have to keep checking behind doors, and maybe door #3 or 4 or 10 or 30 will be just the thing for us. Just keep opening the doors.

All this to say, I hope you never have to endure through a three or four hour glucose tolerance test, they are pure torture.

And I will be writing about God's blessings very soon. What a wonderful topic! I just have a little more studying to do, but it is going to be good!

I Believe in the Prosperity Gospel

2011-04-04T09:36:00.000-07:00

For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.

-Jeremiah 29:11

There are alot of believers in the prosperity gospel, and alot of criticisms of the prosperity gospel. I used to fall into the latter category, but lately I have become an all-out believer in the message that God wants to prosper his children. I can't read my favorite verse above and not believe that.

However, I have come to have a different understanding of prosperity.

I have heard so many people say things like, "It's so nice to know that when I do everything right, that God will bless me in so many ways."

This comment usually comes from someone with whom everything in life seems to be falling right into place, with no major problems or difficulties.

However, life is not easy all the time. The problem comes when people face difficult situations like sickness, job loss, personal criticism, death, or a multitude of other difficulties life tends to throw our way. It's usually during these times you will hear the same person say something like, "I don't understand what I've done to deserve this. What did I do to upset God so much that He would stop blessing me? I've been doing everything just right like the Bible teaches me."

The prosperity gospel, that everything will go just right if you do everything you are supposed to do, can be damaging to believers leading to disappointment in God, loss of faith and trust in Him, and worst of all, the loss of their entire faith in God and the Bible altogether.

I'm sure everyone has heard someone say, "I don't believe in God because why would He let my loved one suffer through such a painful sickness without healing them. We prayed, we had faith, we believed, but He still let them die a painful death. He must not be real."

The problem with the prosperity gospel is not the message, but the defintion of prosperity. As human beings we see and understand everything upside-down compared to how God created. God says to gain everything, you must lose everything. God says, the last will be first and the first will be last.

We don't understand, in our human finiteness, how God's message works.

It's like Lightning McQueen in the movie Cars. The older, wiser race car tells McQueen that when he is driving on dirt, he must turn left if he wants to go right. McQueen mocks and scoffs at the older race car calling him crazy. But in the end, he understands that indeed, turning left to go right, will work when he is driving on dirt, just as the older race car had taught him.

God tells us quite often, that if we want to go right, we must turn left. We laugh in his face and make fun of the backwards, upside-down concept, and then drive off leaving our dust in his face. And we keep doing what we've always done, turning right to go right, with the same result as before... failure, disappointment, and ultimately a messy wreck.

Let's look at the world's definition of prosperity.

Prosperity-n. The condition of prospering; condition or wealth. (source www.thefreedicitonary.com)

Some synonyms for the word prosperity include riches, wealth, ease, fortune, luxury, well-being, good-fortune, the good-life, plenty, and affluance.

This is what the preachers of the prosperity gospel tell us God wants for us. But I believe we need to look to the Bible for God's definition of prosperity.

The Hebrew word used in Jeremiah 29:11 for the word prosper is Shalom.

Shalom- completeness, soundness, welfare, peace, quiet, tranquility, contentment, friendship, welfare, health, of human relationships, and (my personal favorite definition) with God especially in covenant relationship. (source www.bible.org or Strong's #07965)

In people terms, Shalom means completeness, contentment, welfare, or peace in human relationships and with God, especially in covenant relationship.

This is the kind of prosperity God desires for His people, for all people. He desires to have a covenantal relationship with each human being, lasting for all eternity. This is true prosperity.

Stick with me for a few more posts and a deeper look into God's definition of prosperity and what the Bible teaches is prosperous in the Christian life.
*Hint, it doesn't include money, possessions or anything else we consider "blessings".

May God bless you today with prosperity, or peace and completeness in your relationship with Him, and with others!

The Awe Factor

2011-03-24T13:11:00.000-07:00

I finished reading Job today. I have been trying to read the entire Bible in a year for a very long time, as long as I can remember.
And in my old age of thirty-something, I have come to the realization that not everything in life needs to work exactly like I plan. In fact, nothing will go as I plan, and just because I miss one day of my reading plan, or two, or 50, doesn't mean I can't still continue on through the Bible.

So, yes. I am behind on my reading plan, but I finished Job today nonetheless. Which was a huge success for me. I usually give up somewhere around Job (I like to go chronoligically rather than front to back, and Job comes after the first 11 chapters of Genesis, so you can see I don't make it very far).

I get to Job, and I get depressed. Who really wants to read a story about a man who loses all his family, all his belongings, and his health, all because Satan had something to prove to God... AND, here's the part I have trouble with... God LET Satan use Job to prove Himself instead!

But this time, I loved Job. I really did.

Even all the speeches from his friends, and his speeches, long and drawn out as they were, have so much in them.

But today as I finished, I felt the writer of Job should have done a better job at brining home the fantastic conclusion. Instead, there is just a paragraph, after all that talking, that is basically summed up in, "And he lived happily ever after."

Maybe it's the writer in me, but I want a big fanfare of resolution.

As I finished I sat in my little blue rocking chair that does not match my bedroom in anyway, and pondered God.

The last part of the book, God describes himself sarcastically to Job. Job defends himself up to this point, all along the way, saying, "I am innocent! Put me on trial and I will prove my innocence! I don't deserve this. What have I done to be treated so unfairly by You, God?" (not exactly his words, but rather the Amy Mykytiuk reader's digest version).

God stays silent throughout Job'scomplaining (which I totally understand and have no judgement toward Job for that), but finally in the end speaks out in sarcasm.
Summed up, God says, "Oh, that's right, I forgot. You were there when everything was created. You control everything. I completely forgot, you are omnipotent, omniscient, all-powerful, and equal to me."

Now that's not what He really says, but that's sort of his message. He's sarcastically reminding Job of who HE is.

This is my favorite question God poses to Job.

"Have you entered into the springs of the sea Or walked in the recesses of the deep?" Job 38:16

I think I love it because I truly imagine the deep of the sea to be an unreachable place. I never really imagined God strolling along the sea floor, where the undiscovered creatures roam. That's an unfathomable place.

I can imagine him in the universe, because that is sort of where we place him and heaven, out there in space somewhere. But the utter dark, cold, crushing depths of the sea?

Sunday, the pastor spoke about losing that awe factor for certain things in our life, after we have become too familiar with them. I have always felt that way about God.

I was born into a Christian family and attended church from the crib. I was always taught about who He is, and who Jesus is, and how Jesus died and rose again. The story of the Resurrection, though it is precious to me, never held that awe factor for me. It was too familiar. I do not feel that feeling of impossibility, like I would if a dead man sat up out of his coffin at his own funeral and began to speak. But I always wanted to be in awe of the miracle.

When God is finished telling Job exactly who He is, Job says,

"Behold, I am insignificant; what can I reply to You? I lay my hand on my mouth." Job 40:4

Job, gasped and covered his mouth. He had no response, no defense, nothing to say for himself. He didn't say, "Ya, ya. I know you did all that creation stuff and everything, but I don't deserve this!" (Imagine that in your most whiny voice ever).

He was awe struck. He was silenced by who God is.

I finished the story and wondered what it would take to silence me, to make me gasp at the wonder of who God is.

And then I realized. He's already done it. It's those times that He puts me on the edge of that cliff, my heels hanging off the edge and my body weight falling to my despair. Nothing can save me. I can't regain control of my life and save myself. I can only feel my body begin to fall as I wait for Him to rescue me.

It's when He puts me in those places that I have no where to go, no answer, and no salvation apart from Him, that I find the awe factor. It's when He stretches out His hand and rescues me in that completely hopeless and impossible situation, that I find myself gasp. When I know that the only way I could have made it through that "thing", is by His very hand, that I find awe.

I am alot like Job, declaring what it is I deserve. But I love Job's confession in the end, and it is my prayer when I become too big for my britches too.

"I know that You can do all things,

And that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted.

Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?

Therefore I have declared that which I did not understand,

Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.

Hear, now, and I will speak; I will ask You, and you instruct me.

I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear;

But now my eye sees You;

Therefore I retract,

And I repent in dust and ashes."

Job 42:2-6

What makes you stand in awe of who God is? Job 38-42 will definitely give you something to think about.

My St. Patrick's Day

2011-03-17T21:34:00.000-07:00

I had a great day, but by 11AM I told my Beloved I was going to do a blog about the funny things I saw today. We had too many big laughs first thing this morning.

To start the day off, my Beloved officiated at a sweet little wedding in town. The bride and groom wanted to elope and have a small ceremony with just their parents. We were honored that she asked Jay to be the officiating minister.

The bride had been a youth in the church we served in a while back, and she and Jay had bonded over a game of hacky- sack. Now she is a young adult, spending her first evening as a Mrs.! Yay!

As we tried to get ready for our day, we had a multitude of slightly humorous, mostly time constraining, events happen with our kids. The toilet overflowed and little Noisemaker didn't seem in too much of a hurry to let us know water was dumping out onto the bathroom floor. The little girl had to go potty at the last minute, and she loves to sit and play, a long time. I forgot to bring my slip for my dress, leaving me to duck tape and safety pin some sort of acceptable undergarment under my dress, hoping for the best. It was a rough start to an important day.

On our way to the sweet little St. Paddy's Day wedding, we had some really good laughs together. Just outside of the city, we saw a raccoon on the road. I know, that's no big deal, but this one was hilarious!

If I had had a camera with me, I would have made my Beloved stop, late or not, and take a picture so I could share it with you, even on a busy highway!

At first we thought it was a cat, because you don't really see raccoons in the daytime around here.

It was completely frozen in the middle of the left lane of traffic. It's back was arched up way high, one paw was firmly planted on the asphalt while the other one was up in the air. It stood as still as a stone statue, staring at the ground. We never saw it move!

It was the funniest thing. I really think a couple of teenagers found a taxidermy raccoon in their great-grandpa's attic and decided to stick in the middle of the road to see what happened!

But, a few hours later on our way home, the raccoon was gone. Maybe he just got really scared and tried to look really mean and ferocious to all the giant metal cars speeding around him at 70 miles per hour. I don't know.

Just a few miles down the road, in downtown, we found ourselves cracking up again.

We passed a cute little donut shop. I notice these things. I'm pregnant and hungry almost constantly, and the more fatty, sugary, higher in calories, fried and unhealthy it is, the more I want it.

As we came closer to the donut shop I began to read the small print on their sign. They advertised donuts, biscuits, pastries, kolaches... AND TACOS!

Yes, that is just what I always wanted! A donut store where I could pick up a dozen long johns AND a yummy taco!

If you don't find this post funny, I'm sorry. It just brightened my sunny little day a little more!

We made our way downtown to the sweet little wedding. My Beloved officiated a beautiful little ceremony. He talked about God's plan was for love and marriage and their marriage, my marriage, and all marriage, is a good thing.

He talked about faith, hope and love. As married people we need to have faith in ourselves to be a good spouse, to have faith in each other, and to have faith in God. We need to have hope for when the going gets tough. We need hope to make it through the tough times in marriage, because there will be tough times.

And lastly, love, the greatest of these! Love for each other, but more importantly, love for God.

I watched the bride carefully, in her vintage lace dress with a sweet green ribbon sash. She was beautiful, and the tough little girl I knew, beamed with love for her red-headed groom. His smile could not have gotten any bigger as he stood next to his beautiful bride.

I fought back the tears, remembering all the faith, hope and love my Beloved have shared over the last almost 12 years. He has had faith in me when no one else did. When life seemed too difficult, we held on to hope in our Almighty Father... together. Most of all, even when we did not like each other, we held on to the love that was sparked so long ago.

I would love to share pictures with you, but the couple still has not told all of their extended family and friends that they got married today! Tonight, they enjoy their secret, as husband and wife.

Getting Out of the Boat and Walking on Water: Part II

2011-03-16T15:12:00.000-07:00

My Beloved and I experienced a tremendous amount of fear as we walked in faith, left everything behind, and went to seminary. But God took care of us.

My Beloved landed a job his first day out looking. We were going to have an income, be it a small one, but an income.

We met a couple of people that welcomed us into their church, helped me find an awesome doctor, and offered all kinds of help to assist us as we adjusted to our new home.

Things were tough, but God was faithful. He showed himself to be faithful time and time again.

After 8 or 9 months of living in New Orleans, we had completely used up our savings. My Beloved had a good job, but it fell just a little short of what we needed to make ends meet, so each month we "borrowed" from our savings.

The end of the savings account came, we paid our bills, but had nothing left over for groceries. We didn't have empty shelves, but we needed some items like milk and bread.

I just trusted that God knew what we needed and would help us through.

It was a lovely spring and the seminary planned a family day on campus, complete with magic shows, bounce houses, contests, and general family fun. One of their new additions was a baking contest.

I decided to enter my most loved recipe, banana bread with homemade caramel sauce. I had all the ingredients needed in my pantry, and it would be fun.

My Beloved, believing that my banana bread is heavenly food made for angels, just knew I was going to win first place. My boys and I attended the family day alone while my Beloved worked. I sat impatiently waiting for the winners to be announced. Finally, the time came.

"Second place, Amy Mykytiuk!" I heard over the loud speaker.

Well, second place isn't so bad, and I'm sure all these women are exceptional bakers, so I'll take that.
Then I heard a man's name called for first place! Well, okay, some men can cook.

I walked up to claim my prize, trying to get a peek at the first place winner. It was a runny, yucky looking tiramisu in a casserole pan!!! I don't care how it tasted, presentation is worth at least half and his presentation was awful!

I watched as he was handed his first place prize, a three ring binder with the seminary logo on it.

Not a new car, but a decent prize. I expected the same or maybe a t-shirt or something even less in second place. But.... God stepped in.

The lady handed me an envelope. "What could this be?" I thought.

I opened it and pulled out a $25 gift certificate to the grocery store. Tears ran down my face and I praised my Father for SECOND PLACE! We even ate ice cream that night!

It was during that time in our life I truly learned the how God provides, and how faithful He truly is.

It has been a constant reminder to me over the last year, that God is my provider, and He was faithful before, He'll be faithful again.

He has been.

It has been a year since we stepped out of the boat. My Beloved realized pastoring is his calling, not children's ministry. It was time to move on and trust God. It was a year ago that he turned in his resignation, without another job to move on to.

It was scary. I complained and whined that I was put in such an uncertain place.

Then came the time that he was finished with his job and became unemployed. We had enough saved to live for a few months, but soon that was gone too. Fear became even greater.

Then a friend asked him to do some work on his house. Then another person asked for some work. Then another. Before long, months had passed and he had been working the whole time, doing handyman type work.

Now we are 9 months into having our own, sort of stumbled upon- business, and God has cared for our every need. We have walked upon the water, with Jesus holding our hand.

We questioned why we haven't moved on to a new ministry position yet, but now we are seeing the answer. It is not official yet, but we are looking at a church that is considering us. The most amazing thing about this church is that it is a part-time position. A year ago we would have passed it by for this reason, but today, Jay already has a business he can continue to run while serving as a pastor. The last year has groomed us for this church, making us the perfect puzzle piece for this crazy puzzle.

Another wonderful thing has happened in my life. I began praying 3 years ago about doing more with my life. Not that ministering to and teaching and raising 4 and 5 children isnt' ministry enough, but I wanted ministry outside of my four walls.

This last week God gave me a vision, and with it a desire to fulfill the vision.

As I prepare for baby #5, I have wanted to do cloth diapering again. However, cloth diapers are very expensive. So my mother and I decided to make our own. I am using my favorite brand of diapers as my inspiration, and making them just like I prefer them to be.

My mother and I had the idea to sell our diapers as well, and see if we couldn't earn a little cash to help out our family.

Just days after beginning our adventure, I received an email update from some of our missionary friends in Australia. They had lost $700 of their monthly support that was already falling short of their basic needs. They are in a desperate place, asking for prayer and support.

My heart broke and I prayed, "God I wish I could help them somehow."

God spoke into my heart.
You can. You can make diapers and sell them and give all your earnings away to missionaries.

I have to admit, I was reluctant at first, but God lit a little spark in my heart at that moment that grew into a great big passionate flame, and now I am so excited to embark on my new ministry:

Diapers for Missionaries!

All my proceeds will go to missionaries, or to help buy diapers for missionaries.
I am praying that God will bless us with a new ministry in a church. I am praying that God will bless the work of my hands so that I might support those out on the front lines, while my season of life is contained to preparing my children to be those on the front line someday.

I am excited to see 3 years of prayers finally answered, and to embark on a new adventure in His Kingdom.

**Please pray for Jeremy and Elea Humphreys, missionaries with YWAM in Whitsunday, Australia. They train missionaries to go out from Whitsunday as well as minister to the locals there. They are in need of God's provision and support financially, but they also need our prayers as they minister.

** Please pray for Ron and Keri Wilson, missionaries we support who serve with NEXT.

I would like to share with you more missionaries we are praying for, supporting, and from whom we are learning more than we ever imagined possible. Keep posted for more missionaries to pray for.

Getting Out of the Boat and Walking On Water: Part 1

2011-03-15T17:40:00.000-07:00

It was a difficult time in life. I was four months pregnant with our second child. We packed everything we owned onto a flatbed trailer, loaded our 2 year old into the car, and drove 15 hours from our home.

The next day I received the key to my new, tiny apartment in a great big scary city; New Orleans.

I felt safely cushioned from the scary city on the seminary campus, but fear was still creeping at my door. We spent the morning unloading our belongings into our new little apartment. I found the inside of my kitchen cabinets littered with what I thought to be mouse droppings, only to find out weeks later they were in fact, cockroach droppings. The miniature monsters were more scary than the worst part of the great big city!

I did not feel scared. I knew God had called my Beloved and I to give up everything- a job, a home, and our family- to be trained in ministry. I knew God had planned on us living in this strange and seemingly foreign land. I was excited for the adventure.... until I watched my parent's truck pull away from my little apartment in the rain.

As their truck drove out of my sight, my heart sank in pain and loneliness. As I wiped away my tears, I turned to see my baby boy playing in the floor, and suddenly felt more alone and vulnerable than I had ever been. We were just kids, trying to take care of a kid in a foreign place. I had no friends, no doctor, and no knowledge of what lay beyond the seminary campus walls. Jay had no job, and no friends to help him find a job. We had a little money saved, but within a couple weeks, most of it was spent on fixing our van's transmission that went out.

A few days after moving in, my Beloved left Benjamin and me for the day to job hunt. It had been raining heavily, following a tropical storm that had just moved through the city. The streets were flooding.

I stood at the window, all alone in the silence as my baby napped, and watched the torrential rain fall in amazement. Suddenly I felt something cold and wet around my feet. I looked down and found water rushing into my living room.

I panicked as I looked for the source, finally finding it was pouring in through a closet. I used every towel we owned to block more from entering. I hurriedly moved my furniture away from the water, trying not to do too much heavy lifting so as not to hurt myself or the baby.

I quickly found my mop and began mopping the mess up as quickly as possible while I cried. I was all alone, in a foreign land. What had God brought us to?

I knew that when we made our trek to New Orleans, with no job and only an unseen apartment waiting for us, we were stepping out of the boat. We were like Peter, daring to utilize our faith, in an unknown and impossible situation, trusting that we would be walking alongside Jesus. But I never thought about how hard it would be, or how difficult it must have been for Peter to keep his eyes on Jesus as the storm raged around him.

I was like Peter, watching the storm, crying out, "LORD, save me!"

He saved me. He did amazing things in my life, and in my Beloved's life. The next two years were some of our hardest. However, they were by far our most wonderful years, until this last year.

We have gone through another season where Jesus invited us to step out of the boat, take a risk, and walk beside Him, even in a raging storm. It has been so difficult, beyond anything I would've ever imagined. But, now as I see this season of life coming to an end I revel in it.

I feel that my life has followed the changing season's of the earth. There was the scorching and terrifying heat of summer, when sometimes I felt the heat become so strong I could barely breath. Then came a cool relief of fall, as I felt my Father offer some release from my fears and anxieties.

Next came winter. It was a time of death. It was the death of all that I had planned, what I thought God had planned, what I believed He should be doing in my life and most of all, the death of all that I had held so close to my heart that was not Godly.

Now spring is coming. I love to see the Bradford Pears bloom their popcorn flowers and gently and slowly turn to green leaves. The Redbud trees splash a brilliant purple in the midst of clusters of seemingly dead limbs and trunks. Grass is beginning to peek it's head through the dirt, and my daffodils have brought a cheerful greeting to my front porch.

In my life I feel God beginning to calm the storm, take hold of my hand and pull me up again. He says, "I know you are so weary and tired, but you can come rest in me now. I make all things new again, and I will make you new again, and better than ever."

I can't wait to see His plan bloom on my seemingly dead branches. I can't wait to watch Him move in my life as I walk beside Him, in what seems to be impossible. I can't wait, to see how He will use me next.

But He has shown me a little and given me a vision. And I pray for His blessing in my endeavors, to serve Him, to serve others, and to make a difference in my little world.

I can't wait to tell you about it.

Anger and God's Righteousness

2011-03-12T14:03:00.000-08:00

"But everyone must be quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger; for the anger of man does not achieve the righteousness of God." James 1:19-20

Today, I got angry. I was infuriated at my Beloved. I'm not going to go into the details, but for an hour I fumed in my head, wondering how I was going to make it through the day without completely destroying his spirit with the awful words I wanted to spew, as well as our glorious spring day as a family.

I did not recall this verse in James at the time. I just prayed, God help me!

You see, I had every right to be angry! (ya right)

I did not pray, Father, please fix this.

I did not pray, Father, help me to stop being angry.

I did not pray, Father, help me to see the bigger picture rather than just the red right in front of my face.

I did not pray alot of "godly, scripturally correct" prayers. But I did remember,

"And it shall be that everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved." Acts 2:21

I can't forget that verse, it's tattooed on my Beloved's arm.

So I just prayed, God help me.

I made a choice, when I returned home I would simply state that I could not talk to him without saying hurtful things, so we would just go our separate ways for the day and do our own thing... until he apologized to me for doing something he had no idea he had done. Ya, that's how our woman minds think.

Fortunately, I didn't even have to say that. He didn't ask alot of questions of me, which is pretty typical of his man mind.

But within an hour, he began to do the very thing that was the source of my anger. You see, I felt as if I was having to be his homeschooling mother.

Did you get all your work done before you started playing? You didn't! No toys until you get all your work done!

But within an hour he had begun his "work". In fact, he stopped working to make lunch, then continued working for the next 3 hours.

Suddenly, I felt relieved I hadn't said anything.

I also felt foolish for having been so angry at him without even knowing all of his intentions.

I was not quick to listen, instead I left him in anger to run my errands. However, Jesus came to my rescue, bridled my tongue, and allowed my anger to find a resting spot within my soul, not spread out all over our entire family.

God's righteousness was the result. Not the angry manipulation by me, or my Beloved's hesitant obedience to my anger, just to please me. But he did what he needed to do because he is the man, and the daddy I know him to be.

I don't believe anger is a sin. It is simply an emotion God built into us. And James doesn't tell us not to be angry, ever. There are times that we should speak out on and act upon an indignant anger, like the injustice of children or the less fortunate.

But James addresses man's anger. There is a righteous anger that comes from hating the things God hates, like the mistreatment of the innocent. But our own anger does not result in righteousness.

When it shows its little red face, we must turn it over to Jesus, and beg him to save us from the destruction it will bring. Only then can we live in the righteousness that God desires for us.\

I'm so glad he taught me this lesson today. I am really getting tired of hurting the one I love because I can't control my tongue when I get angry. Maybe I have turned a corner for the better.

Lundi Gras, Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday, and Lent

2011-03-07T08:54:00.000-08:00

Today is Lundi Gras. For those of you who don't speak French and aren't familiar with the Catholic ways, Lundi means Monday, and Gras means Fat. So Lundi Gras is Fat Monday.

Mardi Gras is Fat Tuesday.

Why are they fat? Because they are a time of utter indulgence just before Ash Wednesday, which begins Lent.

Lent is a time of fasting, or giving up one or more decadent things for 40 days, until Easter in April. It's a long time to fast from something.

Because those that practice Lent will be giving up something decadent in their life, they throw an all out party leading up to Lent, to eat and pleasure themselves however they feel, in order to "get it all in" before "giving it all up," so it becomes a time that can be accurately described as fat.

Personally, I kinda like the idea. It's sorta how I think.

I'm going on this diet next week, so this week, I'm gonna eat everything I can.

I'm pregnant right now, and will have to really diet hard after the baby comes, so I'm just gonna eat whatever pleasures me while I can.

It's a common way of thinking among us humans.

That doesn't make it right.

I still like to celebrate Mardi Gras with my family. They are so many wonderful traditions that go along with it, like King Cake, beads, dubloons, parades, and just general fun. It really represents a time of social activity as well, and I love anything social.

When you live in New Orleans, for even a short period of time, the whole event takes on a new meaning. Prior to our time in New Orleans, I thought Mardi Gras was a drunken party of people who let go of any self-control they ever possessed, to do all kinds of unthinkable things.

But after living there, we saw it differently. We took our kids to some of the family friendly parades which, by the way, far out number the raunchy parades most of the world recognizes as a Mardi Gras.

We ate the best King Cake you can imagine, and learned more about Lent and Ash Wednesday, making it a meaningful event in our Baptist world.

I was trying to decide if I should give up something this year for Lent. Food is a hard one. Being pregnant, I practically want to eat everything in sight. I could give up a decadent food like chocolate, but is that fair to a pregnant lady?

Then a friend said someone suggested giving up Facebook. I had a thought, what about all that social media that is hogging our time, our face, our voice, our touch, and our personal interaction with the rest of the world. What if we chose to come back to the land of the living, and put down our iPhone, iPad, Facebook, and anything else that keeps us hidden from the actual living, breathing, world.

I sat waiting at my last doctor appointment, and noticed the other patients waiting. Each one had their phone out. Two girls came in together, sat down next to one another, pulled out their phones, and began their entrance into the technical world, not paying a lick of attention to one another.

I do believe one woman might have been reading a book or something on her phone. However, not one person in that waiting room was engaged in the real world. Not even me.
I had taken my phone out to text my Beloved and it was sitting nicely in my lap. I had even fallen prey to the cyber world.

So I wondered this morning. "What if I stopped texting and actually had to call people again, hear their voice, and carry on an actual conversation with someone? What if I gave up texting for Lent?"

Honestly, it's a hard decision for me, because I don't like talking on the phone and texting has been such a nice tool to use instead. So I'll pray about it.

Do you plan on giving something up for Lent?

Diaper Time

2011-03-05T15:36:00.000-08:00

I have struggled through this pregnancy, to get in baby mood. It was so completely unexpected, and came at such an odd time for me, that I have felt almost like I just keep getting more and more bloated, rather than enduring through the wonderful task of growing a human being.

You know the baby fever when you are pregnant. You spend every spare moment, thinking of baby items you must buy, surfing the Internet for the best deals on all the neatest little baby gadgets.

I have attributed my lack of interest in baby to the fact that he is #5. I don't find all those useless baby items appealing anymore. I know that bathtubs are a waste of money, and space, when I already have two bathtubs that work just fine, not to mention two sinks as well.

I even tried to get the fever started by checking on baby items in the store. I would cruise through the baby section and stop to gaze at the baby clothes. Blue onesies.... yaaayy. They are blue, like everything else in the boy section.

And baby toys, I learned a long time ago they don't really need them. He will most like choose his brother's Lego's (just before I start a screaming rant at the other children for letting them get into his reach), or his sister's dolls. Or just anything he can get within reach. And in the car, well, there are four other little people to entertain him so the hangy giraffe, monkey toy thing won't have any interest to him.

Nothing has got the fever started. I even bought some cute little baby boy outfits this week. Nope, not feeling the anticipation.

But then, last Saturday, I finally felt a tinge of fever.

One of my friends just had her fifth baby. Yes, not even that precious little bundle got me into the mood, although I have yet to hold her since our household has been battling the evil forces of RSV, colds, ear infections and strep throat.

Anyway, for her shower, I made her a diaper cake. That was the moment.

I ripped open the sweet little size 1 Pampers and caught a whiff. I breathed in deep the smell of diapers, and I felt it. A tingle of joy.

BABY! That's one of those smells of newborn baby. YUMMMO!

I rolled each diaper and put the diaper cake together enjoying each moment I sat with those expensive little things. I felt a little more ready for this baby boy to get here.

Since that day, when I have had the energy and urge, I get a tinge more excited as I think about him.

His movements are increasing and getting more violent. The other morning I woke and he must have been stretching for the morning too, because I felt him from his toes hit one side and his tiny little hands on the other. Wow, he's that long!

Baby fever is beginning. I am ready to have him and hold him.

I have a bassinet. I just need a car seat so I can bring him home from the hospital. And I have a few little clothes for him. Just a package of diapers and our home will be ready to welcome that sweet little thing.

Yes, really, that's all you need. The room decor and painting and toys and trinkets and thing after thing, really isn't necessary. He just needs a ride home, some clothes, some diapers and a place to sleep, and really a drawer would do just fine for sleeping arrangements.

I'm thinking of buying a package of newborn diapers for myself, just so I can go sniff them a few times a day. Even if I am going to cloth diaper instead.

Bummer Week

2011-03-01T14:14:00.000-08:00

I want so bad to write something wonderful, or clever for you. I want to capture you with a story that unravels slowly.

Alas, sickness has finally taken over our household this year. We have gone a whole year with no sickness. While everyone around us was suffering from stomach bugs, the flu, and all kinds of nasty little germs, the Mykytiuk household was nice and healthy.

The last two weeks have brought an end to that, and after 5 visits to the doctor in 2 weeks, 4 out of 6 of us are on antibiotics, I am hoping today has brought the end to it all.

My OB doctor thinks I might have a kinked urethra (does not feel good) from pressure from the baby, and maybe a hernia to boot. But there is nothing that can be done about either one, so, life goes on anyway.

Today, after struggling for two days to eat food, which is vital during pregnancy, I visited my doctor to find out I have strep throat. And it hurts. Really bad.

The doctor put me on two, yes, count them, TWO antibiotics.

Stinkerbell finishes her antibiotic up tomorrow for an ear infection after she developed RSV. Levi finished his yesterday for an ear infection, and Benjamin will finish his on Saturday, again, for an ear infection.

Mr. Pudge got sick too, but no need for antibiotics for him. And Jay, well, he has only been sick once or twice in our over 11 years of marriage.

So, I leave you with a verse that describes how this week has been for me.

A man’s spirit sustains him in sickness, but a crushed spirit who can bear?

Proverbs 18:14

Discouragement has been able to sneak in quite often as I struggle through sickness. But, the good news is my spirit may uphold my body through sickness, but it need not uphold my heart and soul. I have the Spirit of God and His promises to do that for me.

And I promise that when I am finally feeling better, with a little extra energy after school, laundry, meals, cleaning, and all that other mommy stuff, I will write something amazing! I hope.

Skinned Alive

2011-02-24T14:01:00.000-08:00

Some of the most painful days of my life occurred in the weeks following my brush hog accident as a nine year-old. Most of those days I spent sedated and drugged, but some of those will live in my mind forever, as if they were violently branded on my brain.

After all the initial repairs began and my leg had been allowed to bleed for days in order to "wash out" whatever dirt and debris may have been left behind by the massive shredder, the doctors began the real work on my injury; skin grafts.

One layer of skin was removed from the back and top of my thigh, the only place my leg had gone untouched by the brush hog. My doctor tried to keep my scarring secluded to just one leg, however, I sometimes wonder how I must look to people in a bathing suit, with barely any unscarred skin on one leg, and not even a small scar on the other. But I am grateful for their attempt to limit the damage to my body to just one appendage.

The three pieces of skin that were removed were carefully stretched and stapled to what had once been my calf, but was now just a huge open wound exposing my vessels, arteries, and bones to the outside world. Those pieces of skin were the beginning of my healing process, although it was a very painful healing process.

Every day following the skin grafts I would lay under a heat lamp. The place where they had removed the skin was covered with a special gauze that acted as my skin. The heat lamps dried out the oozing and partially covered wound so that scarring would be minimal.

Brace yourself for the next part.

To aid in the healing of those skin grafts, my doctor came in every day to perform the most hideously painful procedure I can imagine. He practically skinned me alive every day.
I loved my doctor, but on those days I wanted him to just go away. He would quickly rip the gauze strip that had adhered to my skinned leg, all at once, in one big yank.

I know people in the next state could hear my screams. I know that if someone had just stepped off the elevator on my floor at the moment the doctor ripped that gauze from my leg, they would have run in sheer terror from that hospital.

I was just nine.

My mother tried to explain the reason for this procedure to occur every single day, but I just couldn't grasp that any reason could warrant something so excruciatingly painful. I still don't.

The changing of the gauze every day was supposed to cut down on scarring and help the graft heal faster. Honestly, I could have lived with the scars.

I am not aware of all the reasons for the boring hours I spent laying under a heat lamp or the few seconds of horror I experienced for a full week each day, but I trusted my doctor. I trusted that he knew what had to be done for me. I trusted that he would never intentionally inflict such horrific pain on me without a very good reason. I simply trusted him. Even as I cried and begged him not to do it, I trusted him.

The last day he came into my room and prepared me for another torture session, I tensed everything in my body and cried as I waited for the ripping to begin.

Then I recalled, "Tomorrow is my surgery."

I quickly yelled out through my sobs, "Can't you do this tomorrow in surgery? Please?"

My doctor removed his hand from the corner of the gauze and sat back.

"Well, sure. I can't see why not." he said with compassion.

I'm sure he hated hurting me as much as I hated being hurt. I trusted him and in the end, he spared me a day of pain because I know that he truly cared for me.

As I grow older, I am learning that this was just the first experience I would have with a painful recovery, although no physical injury would ever compare, the injuries I would experience in my heart and my soul would abound.

God is my Great Physician. Only He can heal the wounds of the heart and the soul.

"He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds."

Psalm 147:3

I am learning to trust God more and more with my wounds. When I become fearful or hurt, He bandages my heart.

I am coming to understand that sometimes, for that wound to heal properly, He must rip the bandages off. It can feel as if I am being skinned alive, but I am learning to trust Him, that it is for my good.

He always bandages them up again and sometimes, the ripping happens over and over again. I don't understand why, but I am learning to trust Him, even through my painful sobs, begging Him to stop the pain. Yet, continuing in trust.

I continue on in my suffering, becuase I know what his word says.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you face trials of many kinds. Because don't you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance, and perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing."

James 1:2-4

The pain will result in maturity and so I can rejoice that I am being made mature and complete. But I look forward to and love the day that He no longer rips the bandage off an open, seeping wound, but rather uncovers a beautiful scar that makes me who I am today, more like Jesus.

Plans... and Reality

2011-02-14T18:11:00.000-08:00

I had wonderful plans for this Valentine's Day. I love this holiday, not because of the romantic love I celebrate with my Beloved. He romances me regularly, so Valentine's Day is not a special occassion to receive flowers and candy for me.
I love it because it is a special day I can teach my children about God's love, the love that those who have gone before us showed for God and those people searching for Him, and best of all, my love for my family.

Here was my plan for the day.

Homeschool Valentine's Party at 10AM, right after I ran to the store for a few essential items for the party.

This evening I had a wonderful dinner planned for my sweet family; steak, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, salad, and chocolate dipped strawberries.

Simple enough. Or so I thought.

"The mind of man plans his way,

But the LORD directs his steps."
Proverbs 16:9

Now here's how the LORD saw fit to carry out my day.

Mr. Pudge woke me up at 6:30 to tell me his toy was working.

I made hamburger filled rolls for the party, which I would finish cooking right before I left for the party so they would be warm. They would take ten or fifteen minutes, tops, to cook. At least that was the plan.

They took 45 minutes.

Because my hamburger rolls took so long, I was late for the party. I still had an errand to run before I could show up.

I pulled out of my driveway to find my tire was flat.

So I called my friend to pick us up.

While I was waiting, I got a phone call. It was one of those really annoying, would make me miserable on a really good day kind of calls. It would be comparable to having someone call to tell me they went over my personal history and discovered that from all the evidence they collected, I am a pathological liar.

As if it wasn't bad enough, the very same company had already called my Beloved about a completely different topic, equally frustrating.

My friend picked us up and I borrowed another friend's car to go get my last few items from the store.

I made it to the party and had a wonderful time with my friends. My kids had a delightful time with their friends. I told the story of St. Valentine to all 23 kids while some of them acted it out.

At the end, a sweet friend blessed me in a very unexpected and wonderful way. She brought me to tears.

At home, I wanted to take a nap. But Mr. Pudge started running a fever and couldn't stop coughing.

While he finally napped, I managed to make a tasty dinner, but not without difficulty with the grill. It didn't get hot enough for the steaks, so in they came to my stovetop.

We ended the evening in our formal dining room. My oldest, Lego Master, prayed and thanked God for me and my skill to cook such a meal. He thanked God that his daddy has time to spend with him. And then the kids acted like I was the best chef in the world when they ate their steak. I like to know I can make them happy.

We finished off our meal with yummy, chocolate dipped, giant strawberries and chocolate covered faces, hands and clothing.

I always give my boys a box of candy and a small gift, to say "I love you and you are my precious Valentine."

And my Beloved gives Stinkerbell a box of candy and a small gift (this year it was light up princess shoes) to tell her she is his special Valentine.

My day did not work out as I had planned. Maybe in the end, despite all the difficult little obstacles in the beginning, it was much better this way.

I have been learning that to plan out my life is a ridiculous and futile task, when God will direct my steps anyway. I am just putting alot effort into being responsible for something that is not my responsibility.

I've been thinking extensively about this problem I have and how it applies to my life. I just never realized until today that it applies to every, individual day as well.

Now if I can just remember to ask God how He wants my day to go, and to use me for His glory every single day, then maybe I might be a little less tired from not having to plan out every little detail and just go with the flow.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Social Networking: Another Avenue for Misery?

2011-02-11T09:33:00.000-08:00

I remember when Facebook began to become so popular, just a few years ago. I joined Facebook as a request from sister-in-law who lives halfway across the country. It was a way for us to share photos more often. I didn't do much with it for months.

Then Jay got on staff at a larger church, and boom! People there started requesting to be my friend. Soon, I found myself hooked to this time-consuming and almost worthless piece of media. It was strangely addicting.

I soon began to remember the years of my childhood, when my family first got a computer. My mother, a writer as well, would sit for hours at her computer. I would want to talk to her or get her attention, but if her fingers were moving a million miles an hour and her eyes were glued to that screen, then the most I got was, "Not now, I have to finish this thought."

I HATED that stupid computer.

*Just a side note. It's hard to believe I was in Jr. High before our family owned our first word processing family computer. Well, it wasn't for the family. Seriously, what need did I have of a computer? That was when students still wrote out their reports.*

As I moved into high school things changed even more. My step-dad was/is a computer programmer, so knowing the latest and greatest computer stuff was his business. We were among the first in my little world to have internet, not that I really cared. We still went to the library to do all our research for school.

I remember that my issue with my mother's preoccupation with that computer did not get any better with the introduction of the internet. She began to spend more time on the computer. But by this time, I really didn't care. I was in high school and probably more happy to be doing my own thing anyway.

Flash forward just a few years and I found myself telling my kids, "Not now, I have to read what this person wrote."

Uh, oh. I was in trouble. I did not want to see my children begin to hate the back of my head as much I hated my mother's.

Soon, another problem rose with this new fangled social networking. My friend pointed out, "It's just another way for me to feel rejected or unloved."

We could see our friends posting on other friends' walls, but not our own.

They made lots of comments about her post, but said nothing on mine. Look at all the comments she got on her new picture, but nobody even noticed my new pictures.

Oh dear! It's not like us women need another reason to compare ourselves to other women!

Then the judgement comes.

She spends all her time on Facebook! Can you believe it!? How does she get anything done?

Did you see all the things she wrote on her wall? Unbelievable!

Oh how I need to be released from the curse of comparing myself or judging others. I have enough self-condemnation in the real 4-dimensional world in which I exist. I certainly don't need to add to it on a 2-dimensional screeen.

As a mom, I watch other moms.

Wow, I wish I could be that great of a parent, so patient and loving. She always knows how to handle a situation. My kids will be laid up on a counselor's couch talking about how all their problems are my fault, and they'll be right!

Whew! I'm so glad I am not like her! Her poor kid is treated so badly. I bet I could teach her a thing or two about being a Godly Mommy to that two-month old.

Then I added homeschooling to the mix.

How does she seem to get in all her subjects, three foreign languages, art, music, sports, underwater basket weaving, training on the atl atl, and still cook a homemade, from scratch, gourmet meal with dessert every night. Not to mention how clean she keeps her house, and how well behaved every child is, even the baby, #13!

Seriously, I could use alot of help in alot of areas.

You can imagine my surprise when one woman said to my husband, "Amy always has it so together."

HA! HA HA! So I guess I have learned the secret to a nice looking facade. She really just didn't notice that the last two times we had gotten together, my shirt was inside out and backwards. I buy them so that they look the same in the front and back and the inside and outside because I have such a hard time getting my clothes on correctly so often. No lie. No joke. Just ask my friends, or my husband.

Then came Facebook.

My statuses are never that clever. She hasn't spoken to me in a while on Facebook, I hope she's not mad.

Then there is the ultimate, self-esteem killer.

WHAT! SHE REMOVED ME AS HER FRIEND!

Public, blatant, rejection that used to only happen in elementary. Ouch. Now we suffer with the playground rejection as adults, online, in front of everyone.

I find myself struggling even in the blog world.

I wish I could write funny posts like that. She's so clever. I love the way she uses so much description in her post. I wish I could write something using, not only cleverly penned phrases, but adult sounding words as well.
(My brain rarely thinks above a 3rd grade level these days. Sorry, it's where I am in life.)

I believe social networking has added many benefits to our lives. We stay connected across years, miles, continents and oceans. It is a lovely world that is easily reachable now.

However, it has hurt us in so many other ways. For me, I must learn to set aside the addiction and pay more attention to my kids. I must learn to deal with a new world of comparisons, short-comings, failures, and even rejection.

I go back to what the Bible says when I start feeling less than what I am in the cyber-world. I am who God made me to be.
"For I know the plans I have for YOU." Jeremiah 29:11

God made us for personal, face-to-face relationships, not on screen relationships. We must remember to nurture our family, friends, and acquaintances with personal attention and time.

I heard at a conference that 2010 was deemed the death of the personal relationship. Social networking, texting, and all the other crazy technology that has erupted in the last couple of years, has removed the need for personal contact. If we are not careful, we may see movies like Wall-E and Surrogates become more of a reality than we ever imagined.

I remind myself that God didn't make me to speak or write eloquently like others. Maybe one day, as I begin to read books that are more than 20 pages and filled with beautiful colorful drawings, I will learn to use bigger words. For now, I am just an average woman, living an average life, that is completely wonderful!

And if someone removes me as their friend in cyber-world... well, I've done the same. I can't really blame them for not wanting to keep up with my boring average life every single day. And I might add, I can quickly recommend many other blogs that are much more interesting than my own.

I challenge you to make at least one extra personal connection with an actual warm body this week. You'll be glad you did.

Children are Like Books

2011-02-10T12:38:00.000-08:00

Children are like books, you can never have too many. Books are like children, to be treasured and adored.

-Deanna Cooner

A trip to the grocery store is never my favorite activity. Whether it's to fill a basket to overflowing, or to just to pick up a few things, I loathe grocery shopping.

The best and worst part of grocery shopping is the reaction I always get from complete strangers. I must shop with four kids in tow. Some of the time they run around my buggy and drive me crazy while they get in my way as well as other shoppers. Sometimes I get wise and make them follow behind me like little ducklings, youngest to oldest. I find myself much more sane with this method.

Sometimes, a couple little kids are packed away in the buggy beneath the granola bars, milk, and bags of fruit.

It doesn't matter the method in which I attempt to contain, control, or corral my children, I always receive the same remark from at least one stranger while shopping.

"My, you sure have got your hands full, don't you?"

Yes, I have my hands full with four children. I prefer it that way. Most people just chuckle and walk away, seemingly thankful they are not me.

The other day at the store was a particularly memorable encounter with one such stranger. As we passed in the main aisle, she smiled sweetly as she made her "full-hands" remark as I call it. I proudly tapped my belly and said, "Yes I do, and #5 is on the way too."

Some people say the "full-hands" remark adoringly, admiring the children. Some people say it bitterly, as if they are personally offended by my choice to have so many kids. This lady seem to be the former of the two strangers, until I announced our upcoming arrival. Her response shocked me and left me speechless.

"Oh my!" She exclaimed. "I would kill myself!"

Wow!

The idea of children really do bring out the worst in people.

I can't help but wonder why so many Christians tell me I'm crazy, or I've lost my mind. Why when they talk to me about my choice to have a large family do they act like their own children are such a huge burden, almost to the point that they wish they had never had any at all?

I look to what the Bible says about children. Does it call them a burden?

"Behold, children are a gift of the LORD,

The fruit of the womb is a reward.

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,

So are the children of one's youth.

How Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them;"

Psalm 127:3-5a

The Bible calls children a gift and a reward! One who has a quiver full of children, like myself, is blessed!

Through the instruction of the scripture, the choice to have children is never questioned, it is simply understood that one will have them.

"Tell your children about it, and let your children tell their children, and their children the next generation." Joel 1:3

Instructions are given over and over again on how to raise children, what to teach them and how to teach them.

I haven't even mentioned one of the most common commands God gave from the very beginning of man.

You can find the words "fruitful and multiply" over 600 times in the Bible!

Even our traditions point to the blessing and reward of children. Today a couple might choose to have rice, birdseed, or bubbles thrown over them as they leave their wedding reception, but the tradition began with nuts and seeds being thrown instead. It was a blessing on the newly wed couple, that they might be "fruitful and multiply" or have lots of children!

Somewhere along the way, our society decided their blessings, rewards, and gifts were just burdens. It is still so natural for us to want children, but because they are such a burden we limit just how burdened we will become.

I'm not saying everyone should have a large family. I'm not even saying everyone should have children (because I believe strongly there are some that just shouldn't have many children). It truly is a calling from God to multiply your family so greatly.

What I am saying is that our attitude is corrupt. What message are we sending our children- the next generation and the ones who will be caring for us and making decision for us eventually- when we say things like, "I would kill myself,"? We are telling them, "I would rather suffer death, than suffer with you."

I pray that my children's ears are deafened when people say such ugly things about them. I pray that even when I am having the most difficult time at the grocery store with my children in tow, I will treat them like the precious treasures they are, so that everyone will know just how valuable my children, and your children and every child in this world truly is.

Not only is our attitude toward children corrupt, but we have arrogantly made ourselves police over God's domain, and other people's choices.

For a person to be offended by my choice of the number of children I have is ridiculous! Just as it is ridiculous for people to be offended by my choice to homeschool my own God- given children. We have made ourselves the sovereign authority on just how many children one couple should bring forth into this world. God is the only sovereign authority on any one person's life and only He has the authority to say, "Just because it's raining doesn't mean you have to stand out in it and get wet."

God alone gives life and enables one to give birth. He may even close a woman's womb, but only He has the power and authority to do so.

"Then God remembered Rachel, and God gave heed to her and opened her womb." Genesis 30:22

He also is the only one with the power to bring forth life no matter how much we try to prevent it. Many of those babies aborted were created while birth control was in use.

It is time we return to the attitude God intended for us. Children are precious, desirable, and a treasure. Children should be protected, defended, and taught in the ways of the Lord. It's time we stop casting judgemental eyes toward those that choose to enlarge their family and experience an even greater reward.

It is never easy, to have even one child, much less many more, but the reward for each child is truly worth the sacrifice and work that they require.

I'm Back!

2011-02-09T15:48:00.000-08:00

I know I have been absent for a while. Not for lack of topics to write on, or for lack of desire. Mostly for lack of heart, if that makes sense. I believe sometimes the issues of the heart are not always easy to share.

I have felt like a person coming back from a mission trip. If you have ever been on a mission trip, you will completely understand what I mean. If you have never been on a mission trip, let me explain.

You come home after serving God and others in the most incredible, unselfish, uninterrupted ways, and you feel incredible. You can't believe you have never known this kind of faith before, and you want more. You want everyone to experience and to know what you now know. You come home sure you are going to burst out in story after story of how God worked and what He did and of all the people who touched your life when you thought you would be the one touching theirs. And you just know, as soon as you share all this information and good news with your family and friends, they will jump up and run off to do the same, becoming swept up in your excitement and passion. They will become equally passionate about your experiences and fiercely desire to do the same.

But then reality hits. You passionately share your encounters with God that have radically changed your heart and your life and your thinking forever. You cry and laugh and find it difficult to even keep up with your own stories, all the while your audience sits impatiently waiting for the sharing time to be over, not even a little stirred by what has happened in your life.

Some try to be as excited as you are. Some just seem to pat you on the head like a little child and say, "That's nice, honey. Good for you."

Then the depression sets in because you can't understand why no one gets it! We are talking about God moving and working in not only your life, but the lives of the lost and hurting! This is good stuff!

But no matter how much you want to convey and pass on that passion to your loved ones, they cannot understand or perceive what you have experienced, because it was your experience, not theirs.

I have been in this place for so long now, wanting so badly to share with someone the deep pain and the utter passion God has continually taken me through in this life. I have come to a point that I think, "He can't possibly do any better at changing me than He did today."

But then comes the next day and I am once again, speechless in His presence, much like Isaiah was before the throne of God. I feel like God has taken me to His throne repeatedly, almost to the point that my earthly body cannot take one more visit from Him.

And as much as I want to say to everyone, "Look at what God has done, what He is doing, what He wants to teach you and wants you to know!" I understand that other's will just pat me on the head and say, "That's nice, Honey."

What God has been teaching me, and my husband, is so wonderful, yet I have not felt the release to share with others. I believe it is something that can only come through time, circumstances, and a heart that is open to God no matter how painful it might get.

I, personally, did not realize the road I placed myself on when I prayed daily, "God, make me more of a servant to you, no matter what it costs me, even if you must take everything I love and everything in which I find comfort, away from me."

*WARNING* Do not pray this prayer without expecting Him to do just what you ask, and be prepared to be stripped of everything... for the Glory of God!

Life is changing more rapidly than I can bare right now. And yet it is not changing nearly quickly enough. I know that makes no sense. What is changing is my heart, my Beloved's heart, and our devotion and faith. What is not changing are the things that bring me temporal comfort, ease of mind, and all my fleshly desires. I am learning to be wholly dependent on my Almighty Father and not on the things and people of this world.

I wish I could somehow transfer or download to you what I have learned. It is life-changing, but it is for God to download for you.

One day, I will go back to sharing simple truths He has placed in my heart, but for now, my heart is for Him alone.

Despite my inward struggle of whether to share with you or not, I have had many exciting events I do want to share with you.
January was a great month for our family.

We had our first ultrasound for this baby. The next day we had a big party with grandparents and friends, and all the kids got to eat a blue filled cupcake to find out we are having a boy!

We wanted to make the reveal special, so we asked our stenographer to write down the sex of the baby and seal it in an envelope. Then we had cupcakes made that were filled with either blue or pink icing, depending on what was written in that envelope. The next day, we lined all our friends' kids up with our own and let them bit into the cupcake and reveal we are adding a fourth boy to our very full and very blessed family!

We are excited to meet him, and anxious to settle on a name for him. Some of our favorites are Asher, Simon, and Elijah.

We also made it through one snow storm last week, and another one this week. I hate winter and snow and cold, but I do love a day that we are all cooped up in the house. It gives us all an excuse to be lazy and spend a day watching movies and just being a family.

Not to mention how much we love hot cocoa and snow ice cream on days like today!

I have been working on a few things to write, in hopes that I can be more interesting for the few of you that stop in every once in a while. My first will be on the blessings of children in a society that considers them a burden.

In the meantime, I leave you with a picture of me, looking very pregnant now at 19 weeks!

I have to brag on my man!

2011-01-21T08:29:00.000-08:00

I don't usually feel comfortable sharing alot of details about what is going on in our personal life. Mostly for fear of offending some people, because not everything I would say would be widely accepted. But today, I have to share a little more, just because I feel the overwhelming blessing of almost 12 years of marriage!

About a year ago, my Beloved resigned his position as children's pastor. It was not an easy decision, but it was the right one. It was time to move on to pastoring, and although he did not have another position to move into, we trusted God would care for us.

By June, he was finished and officially unemployed, but we were fortunate to have enough money saved up to live for a few months.

As the money began to dwindle down, we began to really cry out to the Lord to help us. By chance, my Beloved "fell" into doing handyman and carpentry work, his second love after ministry.

We didn't know how long this work would last, or if it would be a fluke one time job. But it began to provide for us. One job after another came along, month after month.

Then the holidays came around and people stopped remodeling and repairing their homes. Times became a little more tough on us.

This month, some business has picked back up, but it is still very slow and there are days when my Beloved has no work.

This week was one of those weeks. When the work runs out, we have learned that every morning we wake, we could instantly let the worry and stress set in, or we could turn it over to God, trusting that He will provide for our every need, just as He promised in Matthew.

We quickly pray through our fears and worries and turn them to praise to our Father. This week, I began to thank God for the time my Beloved was home, and what a wonderful week it has been.

Knowing that I am not fully functioning yet, because of my pregnancy tired, my Beloved helped to take are of me all week. He cooked lunch some days, and even cleaned the kitchen afterward. In fact, I'm not sure I have cleaned the kitchen once this week.

My Beloved also folded all the laundry for me yesterday. He helped the kids with school, ran errands, and a multitude of other chores that are usually left to me alone.
He cleaned up the baby girl after she had an accident in her pants. He got out of bed early one morning when we heard a breaking crash in the kitchen and cleaned the broken shards up before I even got out of bed.

And best of all, he cleaned out my refrigerator! He threw out and washed containers that had food left in them from THANKSGIVING! Now that is a man!

My Beloved, despite the fact that I am cranky, tired, wearing sweats with no makeup every day, showed me the love that only comes after 11 years of devotion. He asked for nothing in return, never bragged on himself or what he had done, or sought praise. He never questioned whether he would help me or not, he just did. He did not abandon me to work out in his garage on his own projects, but rather, took the time to care for me.

When we got married 11 years ago, we were taking a Christian marriage class together. Our professor told the class, "When two people walk down the aisle toward one another, they are just two raw materials coming together. It will be years before they become more than just a mess of raw materials."

I tried to understand what he said, but at the time, it seemed our love was so incredibly strong. Now I look back and we were just stupid little babes, thinking we knew what love was. We thought love was passionate and wild and free-spirited.

Now I know, love is so much more. It is what my Beloved showed me all this week. Sacrifice and work, quietly and gently, without recognition.

Callouses of the Heart

2011-01-16T16:04:00.000-08:00

After I fell under a brush hog, suffering mutilation to my right leg and foot, I spent almost an entire month in the hospital undergoing surgery after surgery. I was fortunate for several reasons.

First, I was alive. Few survive a brush hog accident, especially not those that are just a teeny, tiny, 50lb. 9 year-old.

Second, my leg was cut to shreds, so much so that as my brother carried me to the house, I reached down to feel my leg. Instead of taking hold of flesh, my hand wrapped around my bone. My calf was gone, as was my heel except for one small piece of skin keeping it attached to my body. My thigh was split open to the bone. My left heel was almost cut off as well. But as bad as my injuries were, I kept my leg despite the doctors' first prognoses. They told my mother to expect me to come out of surgery with no leg from the hip down. I kept every part, even my heel.

Third, I walk despite a heel bone that was completely crushed and an Achilles tendon that was completely cut away. I walk, run, jump, play... whatever I want.

My blessings go beyond just those three, but I could talk about them for years. What I want to share is one of the results of my injury that causes me no problems, other than being a royal nuisance.

I have a callous on my heel. It's not just a little foot callous. It's a callous unlike any I have ever seen. Probably only those that can compare are diabetic patients.

My callous grows and thickens and cracks until it bleeds. I super glue the cracks, but they continue to come back.

I'm not complaining. It was an accident that I have my callous at all. My doctor came in to check on me one day and found a bed sore on the very tip of my very delicate heel. He was so mad that he just couldn't contain himself.

Turned out, my foot had been cast in such a way that it rested on that very delicate and injured tissue. As a result, the tissue died. My doctor knew I would suffer from this horrid callous for the rest of my life. He understood that this meant the blood flow to my flesh would be very little. He knew the nuisance it would cause me for years to come. And that made him angry. But I can't blame him, after all, he had worked very hard at putting that heel bone back together after being crushed like an eggshell. He had worked hours at sewing that part of my foot back to my body. He had invested all of his blood, sweat, and tears into the healing of my foot, so that I might be able to walk again someday on my very own foot. He was angry, yet there was not one thing he could do to correct the mistake. The damage had been done.

Today, I try very hard to take care of my calloused heel. If I keep the dead skin scraped off daily, and slather it with a thick heel balm, I don't suffer from the hideous thing nearly as much. But if I let it go for a couple of days without tending to it, I find myself suffering, not just the hideousness of the thing, but also the pain of it cracking.

I realized today, so much of my life is just like that callous on my heel. When it comes to my faith, my walk with God, reading His Word, practicing His Word, disciplining myself to live the Christian life, and most of all, focusing everything I am on glorifying Him, I must tend to it daily. Without daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, and even moment by moment attention given to my wonderful, merciful God, I become hideously calloused.

I have experienced very painful and difficult times in life, but I realize those are the times I have had to endure through the scraping and care of my calloused heart.

When I remove the dead skin that is on my heel, I can't help but admire the soft and beautiful skin that lies underneath, wishing it would never be hidden. However, that darn callous comes back trying to hide the beauty that lies beneath.

My heart is the same. Underneath my callouses of indifference, complacency, laziness, doubt, anger, disdain, pride... shall I go on, because I could... lies a beauty that only God can reveal. It's a heart that is tender, and loving. It's the heart I want to live with every day. Not the hard, calloused heart that does not care about this world outside of myself.

My heart, without a callous, falls more deeply in love with my God. All the things of this earth fade away, in light of Him, and joy fills my heart whether life is good, excellent, bad or ugly or if I have anything at all.

*If you suffer from calloused feet, after over 20 years of trying everything out there, I have found that the Ped Egg and Flexitol Heel Balm work best at keeping my foot beautiful.

Discipline

2011-01-05T11:57:00.000-08:00

"Now all discipline seems painful at the time, not joyful. But later it produces the fruit of peace and righteousness for those trained by it." Hebrews 12:11

I hate disciplining my children, but the minute I allow some bad behavior to go undisciplined, my children take off on a rebellious fit. Suddenly they think they can get away with anything without punishment. That's when I always must bring out the big guns and get serious again about discipline.

I remember when Jude was just 1 year-old, I had just had surgery on my foot and was unable to walk on it for several months. There were days he would misbehave and run off. I would be stuck on the couch without the option of chasing him down and giving him the discipline he so deserved. I let it slide and decided he would just have to be straightened out once I was able to chase him down again.

The time came to straighten him out, and life was difficult for him and me as he had to learn that hitting, stealing toys from his brothers, or throwing his trash on the floor were not acceptable behaviors. It hurt both him and me to endure through those lessons.

Not only was it painful because discipline had been absent, but it took time. He was two years-old before I was able to train him to lay down and take a nap at a regularly scheduled time. The discipline that had been put off, made life miserable for all of those around him.

I do not enjoy being a disciplinarian. I do not enjoy sentencing my children to work, or the loss of a privilege or a time-out. I would much rather spend the time playing with them and laughing. But discipline is necessary for them to grow to be responsible, independent adults. Without discipline, a child just grows up to be an overgrown toddler throwing temper tantrums every time life seems unfair. (Can you think of any adults like that?) As much as I hate disciplining, I want even less, to see my children as irresponsible adults.

I have been learning much about God's discipline of us. I know so much of what the Bible says about how He loves me, has a plan for me, and will care for my every need.

But I have not thought much about His discipline of me. I am not always a good child. I misbehave quite often.

Last night God gave me a vision, if you will, of what life will be like because of His discipline. Because of the difficulties our family has faced, I will be able to live life as a responsible, tantrum-free, child of God. This means a life of glorifying Him; just what I've always prayed for.

I remember praying that God would do whatever it took to make me into a person willing to camp at the gates of hell, if it meant it was for His glory. I don't think at the time, I understood just what I had asked for. Now I do.

I have not enjoyed my time of discipline. Nor do I want to go through it again. It reminds me of a show I watched recently.

I love travel shows, and on this particular one, the woman was climbing the Matterhorn. The struggle she endured to get to the top of that mountain was almost too painful to watch. I felt my body ache for her as she tried desperately to put one foot in front of the other.

When she got to the top, there were tears in her eyes as she apologized to her guide for her potty mouth. "I'm so sorry, but it was either curse or cry at the time," she chuckled.

I know what she means. There are times that I feel I cannot go another step further. I feel just as that woman did, that the mountain I am climbing just keeps getting bigger. There are times I stop and exclaim, "I can't do it!" But my Guide, the Holy Spirit, urges me on, gives me encouragement and strength.

As the traveler came off the mountain she reflected on her time on that mountain. "I'm so glad I climbed that mountain, but would I do it again? Not a chance. But I can say, 'Ya, I climbed the Matterhorn!'"

I try to remember her words. This discipline God has me in is awful and I will never wish to go through it again. But, I can see the peak of my mountain and I am so thankful to have been on this journey. It has changed me and matured me.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you face trials of many kinds. Because don't you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. And perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete lacking nothing." James 1:2-4

When it is over, I can say, "Ya, I've climbed that mountain, and because of Jesus, I can stand her today and tell you all about it!" Then I can offer comfort and the hope of Jesus, to those enduring through a mountain of their own.

Under His Wings

2010-12-30T15:22:00.000-08:00

When Jay and I started "dating", we knew we would spend the rest of our life together, but it took some time to convince Jay's mind of what his heart already knew. We had spent over a year as best friends, not ever considering each other as a potential spouse, but after a summer apart, our heart's grew fonder.
However, he got scared every time he felt like I was "the one", which resulted in his breaking my heart a few times.

The time I remember most, happened on a Wednesday. My mother had come to visit me at college for a few days and she was spending all her time with me, my friends, and Jay when he was around.

Wednesday morning brought our regularly scheduled and required chapel. I showed up and Jay was sitting next to an empty seat and his best friend. My mother sat on the side of the empty seat. I sat down but instantly felt something was wrong.

Jay was cold and distant, as if I was some girl stalking him, not his girlfriend. His body language told me something was not right, and he spent most of his time talking to his friend and very little time paying any attention to me.

Lunch always followed chapel and this particular day, so did a ministerial meeting, for those going into the ministry.

After the meeting I insisted that he tell me what was wrong, but he was still cold. I finally cracked him though, right there in the meeting room, with dozens of people all around and his friend standing right next to his side.

"Amy, I just don't think this is going to work out, you and me. I think we should just break up and move on." he said as plainly and coldly as possible.

My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest, but while trying to reveal as little emotion as possible, I shook my hear and just walked out of the room, stunned. This wasn't the first time he had broke up with me, in fact, it was the third. But this was the first time he had broke up with me after I had begun to feel safe in our relationship.

I walked down the stairs to the cafeteria where a friend saw the look on my face.

"Amy, are you okay? What's wrong?" she asked.

"Jay just broke up with me." I answered. I wasn't crying, but was ready to let it out.

She sighed and hugged me. I watched as Jay and his friend walked down the stairs toward me, seeing her hug my neck as my heart broke. I was embarrassed that he saw someone comforting me.

Lunch was over and it was time for me to go to my job as the assistant editor of the school newspaper. I didn't know how I would make it through the afternoon without letting the pain that I felt at that moment come out.

So I went to find my mother. She was in her room and I told her everything. She didn't have wise or comforting words. Maybe she was just really tired and wanted a nap more than anything, or maybe she knew that Jay and I would get through this and would be married one day, but all she said was, "Let's lay down and take a nap."

I told her I had to go to work, and she made it seem like it would be okay. So I laid down on the bed next to her and she wrapped her around me just like she did when I was a little tiny girl. I laid there and cried, wondering what I had done in just a short period of time to make Jay go from being totally in love to me, to coldly breaking my heart like he didn't even care about me at all.

But I felt safe and secure in my mother's arms. I always felt safe and secure in my mother's arms and when growing up, anytime life got hard, we laid down and took a nap. I laid my head on one arm as her other arm embraced me and held me tight. I always knew at that point that someone loves me and cares for me and will never hurt me intentionally.
I was safe and secure under her wing.

God tells us He is just like my mother. When life is too difficult or too painful to bear, He hides us under his wing. He tells us to forget whatever "thing" we must do, and just rest in his safety and security.

He will shelter you with his wings; you will find safety under his wings. His faithfulness is like a shield or a protective wall. Psalm 91:4

There are countless verses that talk about being hidden under God's wing.

Everyone experiences difficulty in life. Life is hard and painful. But we have a shelter we can take refuge in and that is the arms of our Heavenly Father.

Even as an adult, when I struggle day to day, I think back to those days that I cuddled up next to my mama and felt so safe, and I wish to go back to that place. But I know true comfort and safety and security can only come from the Almighty, the only one that possess true comfort, security and safety.

I can wish to be a little girl all day long, but I can never be that again. But I can call on my Heavenly Father to cover me and rescue me when the pain becomes unbearable.

And the best part is, He does. He covers me until I can face the daylight again, but I never stand alone. He is always there to hold me up.

*Jay eventually came to his senses. He had a reality check with my mother around, and realized he wanted to marry me. It scared him to death, but he soon learned that the pain of being without me was far worse than the fear of getting married. He took me out on a romantic evening, and before we left he prayed with me, "Thank you God for how beautiful Amy is tonight." The rest of his prayer was to thank God for me. I couldn't help but take him back and risk the pain again. He is my best friend and I am so glad I took the risk.

The Little Drummer Girl

2010-12-26T13:00:00.000-08:00

I have two very favorite Christmas songs; O Holy Night, and The Little Drummer Boy.

I love O Holy Night because of the melody. It sings of the pain and sorrow the sinful world felt, but the melody also speaks of the hope and life that came with the arrival of the Messiah. I love that about music, there is a story and emotion without even one word spoken.

The Little Drummer Boy brings me to tears.

Every Christmas I feel as if I am that boy.

I'm just a poor girl too. I have no gifts to bring.

Everything I possess is so inadequate for the King of Kings, and I am brought to tears because the King of Kings tells me that He only wants what I think is my least valuable possession... my heart.

I have no outstanding talents or gifts. I am an ordinary girl. In 100 years no one will remember my name. And yet, the King of Kings asks nothing of me; not greatness, fame, or fortune, but rather my sinful, dark heart.

I have always identified myself with the poorest of the people of the Bible.

If I were to be anyone in the nativity story, who would I want to be? The Shepherds. They had no gifts, they had nothing, yet the angels sang a chorus for them announcing His birth. They came only to offer Him their worship.

I identify with other people like the widow who gave all she had, just two measly mites. I am often that widow wanting to offer something of significance to God, something that could truly make a difference in this world. Yet all I have is a measly mite that will often get tossed aside as worthless.

But Jesus said that widow's mite was worth more to God than all the money in the world, because it was her heart that He wanted, not her money. And when she gave of her last mite, she gave her whole heart.

I constantly pray that my heart, my willingness, and my faith in Him will be enough. I pray that I am like those people of the Bible; willing to give it all away like the widow; willing to stop everything and worship like the shepherds; and even like the Little Drummer Boy, willing to offer whatever measly talent I possess to worship and glorify Jesus.

But more often I find myself afraid. Although I desire to be like those people, in reality God has made my role that of a religious leader. They are the ones that rejected Jesus, and that He called a brood of vipers. Sadly, I have met and seen up close those religious leaders that are a brood of vipers, and I fear becoming one of them.

I hold closely to people like Anna and Simeon, who patiently awaited the arrival of the Messiah and became the first to proclaim him publically. I remember Nicodemus who believed in Jesus, even though his fellow religious leaders did not.

Most of all, I hope that my husband and I are the kind of religious leaders that Jesus was. I pray that we tend to the lost and the hurting. I pray we are willing to leave everything behind to pursue the ministry God has planned out before us. And I pray, that we never forget that the #1 purpose Jesus came for, was to offer hope and salvation to those that repented of their sins, and to extend the unsurpassing love of God to a people who so desperately need it despite their class, dress, speech, lifestyle, or appearance. I pray that just like the Little Drummer Boy, we offer everything we have and everything we are for the glory of God.

Praising and Glorifying God

2010-12-16T15:16:00.000-08:00

Everything in life, from the difficult to the wonderful, is for God's glory. We just have to allow it to be for His glory. Everything in our life should reflect His glory and His wonderfulness.

I can't help but share a story with everyone in blog world, because the blessing we received this week wasn't a blessing to reward Jay and I, but rather a chance to show the world God's glory, provision, providence, and just plain wonderfulness.

My man, as of this time in our life, has been doing handyman/carpentry/remodel work to pay the bills until he finds a new position as a pastor. God has been so good to provide for us over the last 6 months through this line of work and we have not wanted for anything.

However, Christmas brings hardships to many industries, and remodeling is one of those. No one really wants to spend the money to remodel a room or their house when their dropping money like crazy on Christmas. So business became slow, then it stopped.

We moved into December without knowing where our provision would come from except through God.

Secondly, we have been trying to sell our house for six months with no luck and only a couple slightly interested. So we decided, maybe it's time to just let it go back to the bank. We didn't make this decision because we just don't want to live here anymore and are tired of trying to sell it. We really had no other choice this month.

We knew we had the money saved to pay our bills and buy groceries, but not to make our house payment.
So, when the month began I said a prayer,

"Father, I know you own everything and money is not a problem for you. You can drop $1000 out of the sky, into our laps if you so choose. So, if you would choose, I trust you to provide our house payment by it's due date, the 15th. If you do not, we are not worried, or anxious. We trust that moving into foreclosure is your plan for us now. So until the 15th, I leave the payment in Your hands."

We both felt peace and comfort knowing God is the only one who can give us anything, especially the house payment we could not even come close to paying.

On the evening of the 14th, we received a check from a friend. He said in his letter,

"The Holy Spirit has led me to give this to you. Do not argue with Him."

It was $20 more than our house payment!

On the 15th, I called our mortgage company and made the payment just a few hours before the deadline, with no late fee!

God is so incredible, and reveals Himself as our provider day after day. He holds us gently whispering, "Just wait... just watch what I'm going to do. I'm gonna blow you away!"

And every time, He does. The creator of the universe and the saviour of mankind can give little ol' me, anything He desires, from the very basic house payment, to all 4 of our children's Christmas at less than $100. He is incredible.

And one more thing. Just when we were our most desperate, God gave my man a job... at Christmas!!!
Praise Him!

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him all creatures here below!
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts!
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
Amen!

Confession

2010-12-12T16:35:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make.

A really good musical performance brings tears to my eyes. I love the theater and good musical talent from church to Broadway. I tear up like a little baby as it touches something deep inside me, and stirs emotions I cannot feel in any other situation except that of being a privileged audience member to one of God's greatest gifts...

Music!

Instead of getting all embarrassed at my tears, I am learning to embrace them and love them. The tears that are brought on by music makes my heart happy and brings praise and worship to God. I can't help but say "Thank You for something so incredibly beautiful in this life!"

I have my parents to thank for such a deep appreciation of the art. Thanks Mom and Dad!

A Funny Doctors Visit

2010-12-02T18:24:00.000-08:00

On my own, at home, making decisions for my family's health care, I am very confident. I think of myself as a well educated, intelligent woman who can decipher what is good, better, and best for myself and my family.

But you put me in a doctor's office in front of a doctor and I feel like a little kid trying to convince my teacher that I know everything there is to know about chemistry, knowing all along they are going to rip me to pieces with all my mistakes. (By the way, I know nothing of and hate chemistry. It was the only class in which I ever received a B and not an A).

I had my first visit to my doctor today. I loved walking up to the check-in counter where a familiar secretarial smile greeted me.

"Amy, I have you all checked in," she said before I could even sign my name on the paper.

It has been 2 1/2 years since I visited that doctor, yet the secretary still recognizes me! I love that. I guess she should recognize me though, since I've had 2 of my kids with this doctor, and she has been my doctor for a decade. My file is as thick as a college textbook. They should know me.

Yet still, I am pleasantly surprised and pleased to be known anyway. Kinda like Frazier must have felt at Cheer's, where everybody knows your name.

As I waited in the exam room, my doctor entered. She is not a friendly, sit and chat and get to know you kind of person. She's more the kind of doctor that comes in and does her job and leaves with as few words as possible spoken.

But she walked into my exam room with a smile.

"Amy!" She exclaimed. "It's another one for you!" She chatted a little and reminded me I did chicken out on my tubal with the last birth, so here I am in her office, once again, pregnant.

She then asked me about my previous issues during pregnancy.

"Did you have your gallbladder out?"

I didn't weigh my answer carefully, because I hadn't really expected the question.

"No, after Audrey was born I did a gallbladder flush and didn't have any real issues for a while after that," I answered.

Uh oh! I mentioned the forbidden topic in a doctor's office... natural remedies! She didn't know what a gallbladder flush was and asked me to explain.

My explanation was followed by a "lecture" on the dangers of Epsom salt. It's not that I don't believe her, but it says right on the bag it can be used as a laxative! She was telling me to NEVER ingest it.

So, there I was covered by two very thin, very uncomfortable napkins of sorts and nothing else but my socks, getting a reprimand from my doctor. Not my best moment of the day.

I began to contemplate my stand on health care. Much of my family's health care I take into my own hands, implementing all kinds of natural home remedies. I would much rather drink half a cup of olive oil mixed with half a cup of lemon juice than be cut open and gutted, if it would work. Not to mention the money it would save me.

But am I wrong? Do I risk my family's health with these home remedies? I do my research. I am cautious, but I do not seek a doctor's advice when starting an exercise program, or trying a gallbladder flush, or performing a lavage on my infant. When it comes to life and death, I leave the decision in the hands of the expert, but I wonder... are doctors over cautious because of their training and experience, or am I not cautious enough?

Learning My Lesson

2010-11-30T14:41:00.000-08:00

I have plans and dreams.

I dreamed of being an adventurous archaeologist like Indiana Jones when I was younger. But at the age of 16, I heard God calling me to give up my dream and follow Him into full time ministry. I did.

I dreamed of becoming a missionary in a foreign country. I would be single, like Lottie Moon. I dreamed of writing books, Bible studies or anything else God would allow me to write.

But at the young age of 20, God not only put a wonderful man in my life to be my husband, but that man was also a pastor. Now my dream of full time ministry was that of a pastor's wife.

My plans changed with ever new part that God added. My plans were always honorable, and worthy, yet God has continually scratched my plans and my dreams and implemented His own.

Before we wed, we both agreed we wanted between 3 and 5 children. Some would be our own, if God allowed, and some adopted.

I had 3 children. I planned for the fourth and fifth child to be adopted, somehow. Then along came Stinkerbell, completely unexpected.

At least I could still adopt baby #5.

But now I carry the precious life of our baby #5 in my womb, with great joy and anticipation I might add.

However, when the test came out positive, I cried. I didn't tear up and wipe it away. I wept for two days.

Not because I did not want another baby. I did.

"For this child I prayed!"

I prayed night and day for God to give us another child... through adoption. I pleaded with God to allow the adoption process to begin. I wept before the throne, asking for a child with no home and no family to welcome into our home and our family.

He gave me a child, but not as I had planned.

Today, I realized the lesson God has been trying to teach me. My plans, though they are honorable and worthy, are not always God's plans.

I have wept before God asking,

"Why? When there are so few families that are willing to adopt, and we are more than willing, do you keep giving us children of our own?"

"Why? When so few people are willing to go and do missions, and we are so willing to go anywhere you ask, do you keep us at home?"

"Why? When we say, 'Here am I, send me,' do you move on to someone else?"

Today, I received my answer.

My plans are not God's plans. Just because I am willing to do what few people are willing to do, doesn't mean it is God's plan for me.

I have spent days jealous of those that God has called to be missionaries. I have envied them.

I have envied those families that bring home a precious little one and welcome them into their family as an adopted one. I have hidden my jealousy, and said, "One day, God will give me the blessing of adoption. One day God will take us as missionaries."

But today, I faced the reality that I may never adopt, and I may never be a missionary. My plans are not always God's plans.

But I have been given assurance that my willingness is not overlooked. Some are called to adopt, some are called to support adoption. But as Christians, we are all commanded to help orphans.

I may never be given a child in adoption, but God has plans for us to be part of adoption some other way.
I may never live my entire life in another culture preaching the Gospel to a world that barely knows the name Jesus, but God has made me to be a missionary in other ways. Just not the way that I planned.

"'For I know the plans I have for you', declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and future.'" Jeremiah 29:11

He has plans and dreams. And they will be so much better than I could have ever dreamed.

In the meantime, I can't wait to hold our little baby, welcome him/her to this world and tell them all the wonderful plans God has for their life too.

Recycling Update!

2010-11-17T09:21:00.000-08:00

It wasn't that long ago that I posted a blog here about our trip to the beach and the trash that covered the sand and floated in the water. It was a life-changing day for Jay and I as we realized that even though we don't litter or waste much, all our trash is ending up in the oceans and being washed up on the beaches where we want to go and play and enjoy God's beautiful creation.

We made a decision to find ways we could cut down on our own waste and start recycling. I did my research and found that opportunities in our community for recycling are almost nil. I could travel an hour or more to recycle plastics and aluminum or paper, but nothing was local. I did, however, find one opportunity.

Wal-Mart places a box in each entrance for recycling plastic bags. This was a perfect starting point for me since I often felt over-run with plastic bags and the entire recycling issue was overwhelming to me as well. I decided baby steps were the key.
I began keeping my plastic bags and every couple of weeks I dropped them off at the recycling box at Wal-Mart.

I was even more excited recently when I noticed Wal-Mart changed their box and the sign no longer read, "Recycle Plastic Bags Here", but instead ready "Recycle Plastic".

I was curious. Does this mean any plastic, or is it still just bags? So I looked in the box and saw milk jugs, plastic bottles, and all kinds of plastic.

I was so happy because this means I can take another step forward in my efforts to recycle and start saving all my plastic for recycling. My only problem is I do not have a proper set up for recycling. I need another trash can just for plastics!

How do you contribute and do you part to recycle? What is your recycling set up like to make collecting recyclables easier? I could sure use some pointers from some experienced recyclers!

My Favorite Smell

2010-11-14T18:27:00.000-08:00

I have a favorite smell.

It's the most wonderful smell in the whole world. Nothing even comes close to touching it.

It's not a yummy good comfort food my Mama always makes me. It's not the smell of my husband's cologne. It's not even that first wiff of fall sweeping over the land.

My favorite smell is newborn baby!

There is nothing like that scent that comes with holding my little newbies in my arms the first 3 days in the hospital. My heart rejoices when I get a wiff of their tiny little new head. My arms are comforted to embrace such a precious smell.

It is precious!

I thought after Stinkerbell was born, I would only experience those moments when visiting friends or assisting a client as a doula. I always felt sad because the fragrance was never quite as sweet as my own little newby.

Fortunately, I get to experience it one more time!

Baby #5 should be arriving sometime in July, and we are very happy to welcome him/her.

Although, it took me a while to be happy. I cried at first. Mostly because I don't like feeling sick for 3 months, or getting big and huge.

Then I looked at all my little babies' faces and realized, getting sick and fat is such a small price to pay for such a wonderful treasure. I am so blessed, to be receiving another one of God's precious little ones, to love and raise and to teach. I have been given the task to raise one of His missionaries.

I hope I don't disappoint Him or fail miserably at the task He has placed in my arms. It is a huge responsibility. But I am willing to try, and pray every day that God would give me the strength, stamina, courage and wisdom to accomplish such a monumental task.

Although, I have to admit... even after parenting for 9 1/2 years, it still scares the daylights out of me.

God's Will Can Never Take You Where His Grace Will Not Protect You

2010-11-07T12:15:00.000-08:00

The latest events in my life, over the last several months/year, have been trying to say the least.

I have had times of doubt, fear, anxiety, confusion and feelings of rejection and emptiness from God. There were times I felt as if He had forgotten about me.

Sometimes, I felt as though I were in space on a mission, tied firmly to my Heavenly Father, who did not let me drift off into the endless void. He moved me from place to place, showing me each new job, until one day, my lifeline to Him was suddenly severed.

I was left floating through a dark void, at first believing that He would come and save me. But as time passed I felt more and more like He had forgotten about me, leaving me to aimlessly drift through the dark void forever.

Then there are days that I feel His loving hands hold me and comfort me. I'm not just tied to Him, but He holds me and protects me, like a mother protects her baby.

And some days I feel that He throws me out into the world with no purpose or plan. Like He's casting me out as lots, not knowing where I'm going to land or how it will work into the scheme of things.

Through every emotion, I trust that this is not who God is, or how He cares for me.

I must reject what my emotions tell me what to believe, and believe what is fact and true. The Bible says God cares for me, protects me, and watches over every little part of my life, and in fact, my lifeline to Him was never severed in the first place. I just felt lost because where He took me was not where I expected.

The Bible also says that He has a plan for me. He created a plan for my life before I was even conceived. He is not randomly casting me out into the vast ocean that is life, but He is carefully, and with precision placing me to accomplish His perfect will.

I'm learning more and more about His plan every day. Every step, the good, the bad, the difficult and the easy, are not just for my own good, but ultimately for God's glory.

Facing a difficult situation, I throw temper tantrums at God.

It's not that I don't trust. I do. It's not that I don't believe He has a plan. I do.

It's that I don't always want what He has to give me. I believe it is for my good and that He knows what's best, but sometimes, I just don't want it.

But today, I sang and worshipped and He spoke to my heart.

Amy, everything is for my glory. I am not giving you a burden, I am giving you another reason to give me glory. I am planning all that is in your life, to return glory back to me.

I've always thought of God's plan in a selfish light.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord. 'Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.'" Jeremiah 29:11

That's all about me, right? God is saying He will give me a good life, right?

But then, what about Job? He was the most righteous man on earth, and he lost everything. Yet, he glorified God. He did not sin or curse God or ask, "What about me?"

Ultimately, God was glorified through Job's wealth and glorified in Job's suffering, and glorified even greater when Job was restored.

My difficulties are not to make me better. Their purpose is ultimately to glorify My Father in Heaven.

When I see every part of my life in light of God's glory, none of it seems to hard to bear any longer, not for His glory.

Election Results and... I need your help!

2010-11-04T13:27:00.000-07:00

And the first governor of the Mykytiuk Household is.....

Mr. Ted Poophead!

Really, are you surprised? Three out of four voters were boys under the age of ten. Just to be able to vote for someone with the word poop in their name was more fun than they had this summer at Six Flags!

Although to my great surprise, Audrey, who really understood nothing, pointed right to the only girl on the ballot when I asked who she wanted to vote for. So poor Mr. Chris Egghead Nerd received not even 1 vote.

Now on to further business.

Have you heard about Swagbucks? If you become a member of Swagbucks and start using their search engine and other various offers, you can earn points. With your points you can buy items such as gift cards to Amazon, or even a Wii.

No joke! I just bought my first Amazon gift cards this week!

Why am I telling you this?

I need your help. I am trying to earn enough Swagbucks to buy the majority of my kids' homeschool books next year. You see, this could potentially save us mega bucks!

One big way to earn Swagbucks is to refer friends. So I am asking you to try it out for yourself and start earning Christmas gifts free! Or maybe a special treat for yourself. There are lots of prizes to choose from.

If you use me as your referral, I will receive points as well, and you will be helping to educate a little Mykytiuk in the next year. It's totally worth it! So just click on the promotion banner on the side and use my referral link.

http://www.swagbucks.com/refer/amykytiuk

Have a splendid weekend, and happy searching!

Election Day: Candidates for Governor of the Mykytiuk Household

2010-11-02T22:58:00.000-07:00

In celebration of election day, I took the opportunity to teach my little homeschool students a thing about elections.

I described the processes one goes through to register to vote and to vote. I pulled up a sample ballot and demostrated the proper way to mark a ballot.

Then I went through the most important candidates and talked about each one.

I was so proud of myself, my ingenuity and how well my little pupils listened, that I decided we would hold our own election.

Both boys were given the task of making up a candidate for Governor of the Mykytiuk Household.

They were to give their candidate a name, and tell us at least three things about the candidate.

I participated too, and created my own Mrs. Sherry Looksalot.

So here's how the candidates looked during their campaign.

First, we had Mr. Ted Poophead, Levi's candidate. He is married and is a Christian.

Benjamin then told us all about Mr. Chris Nerd. His goal would be to always do what is right and bring peace and unity in the galaxy.

(Can you really be surprised by their names? My boys are 9 and 6, so poop is a funny word as well as nerd, much to my delight.)

Then, there was my candidate, Mrs. Looksalot. She is a democrat that supports all those democrat issues.

The campaigns were over, and it was time to vote.

Each child received one ballot to mark for their choice, even little Jude and Audrey.

I was the official ballot reader.

The winner was......

Can you guess?

The Cherry on Top

2010-10-28T20:32:00.000-07:00

The pain seemed to be never ending. The doctor had delivered the good news and the bad news together. Six months after a major surgery on my right foot, I was healing and moving forward. But considering the damage that had been done, I was still at least six months out from being completely healed.
The doctor had cut my heel off and moved it over, probably more than half an inch. Then he put a screw through my heel and ankle and fused the bones together so they would stay in place.

Following the surgery, I spent 6 weeks without walking while trying to care for my 1 year-old, 3 year-old, and 5 year-old boys. Some days were awful. I would sit in the kitchen and look at the floor that hadn't been swept in weeks and just wish I had a dog to at least come eat all the crumbs off the floor.

After six weeks on crutches, I could hardly contain my excitement to walk again. But to my disappointment, I could not walk. I had a walking boot, but actually, walking without a crutch was nearly impossible.

After a couple weeks, I was walking with a cane, which was an improvement.

Weeks later, I was out of the boot, but the ordeal was not over. I was practicing a my walk constantly. My foot was different and I felt like a toddler learning to walk all over again. Not to mention, the pain.

My pain level was still high enough that if I spent much time on my feet, I required something fairly strong to deal with the pain, something like Loritab. This became a problem for me, especially if I needed to be responsible for someone or something.

Three months after my surgery, a friend asked, "Are you really still in that much pain, that you need to take pain medicine?"

I didn't know how to explain it to anyone else. But I knew that my doctor said my foot had yet to heal completely, and was more than understanding to help me with the pain, so it couldn't be unusual.

By October, I was still waiting for the end to come while I learned to walk with my new orthotics.

It was during this time that my oldest son came to me and said, "Mama, I'd really like a baby sister."

I laughed for several reasons. After 3 boys, I felt the chances of having a girl were pretty slim. I also laughed because, although I desperately wanted another baby, I felt that the timing was way off. I was still learning to walk again like a little toddler!

Needless to say, I felt gaining 30lbs while using all my body's resources to grow another human being, wouldn't contribute well to the precarious healing process I was presently in.

I smiled at my son and gave him what I thought was a clever response. "Well, since we don't have girls, you'll have to pray for that."

He innocently folded his hands and closed his eyes as he spoke, "Dear God, please give me a baby sister."

I stood speechless for a moment then silently uttered my own prayer, "God, I know you are sovereign and know what is best, so you should know that this is not the time to answer his prayer. Maybe in a year or two though. Ok? Ok."

Two weeks later I was cleaning out all my maternity clothes, but realized I had felt totally beat over the last few days. It was the kind of tired that I had only experienced 3 times before.

I believed God knew what was best for me, which was for my womb to remain empty for a while longer, but I decided to make sure before I left myself without any maternity clothes. So I took a pregnancy test late one October evening.

It was positive.

I cried.

I prayed.

I told God that He had lost His mind and clearly did not have my best interest at heart.

Then I accepted that we were going to have another baby, and told my husband. His reaction was similar to my own. But we pressed on.

As the months passed, my surgeon stopped doing x-rays on my foot because of my pregnancy. He then had no way to know if my foot was healing properly or at all.

I fretted the entire 9 months.

"God, I am going to gain weight, and it will mess up everything the doctor did. I cannot go through this painful surgery again!"

"God, I know you know everything, but I don't think you really thought this through."

"God, you know they say, 'A tooth for every baby.' So how will my foot heal if the baby is taking everything my body needs to heal?"

"God? Why?"

I worried, I griped and complained. I did everything but trust God.

The day came, and early one June morning, my baby girl was born.

She was perfect. We laughed for what seemed like hours, wondering how in the world we would ever know how to raise a girl!

Jay was terrified. "What if she wants me to play dolls with her?" he asked with fear in his voice. I just laughed.

I was so thankful God had answered my son's prayer. He has tangible proof that God answers prayers. And we were blessed with a fourth child. Everything was perfect.

But the question still remained, how bad is the damage to my foot? Will everything heal up the way that it should?

I visited the doctor. He came in and spoke those wonderful words. "Amy, your foot is rock solid. Totally healed and perfect."

I was so happy I felt like crying.

"Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed. "I was so worried that being pregnant would ruin everything you did."

My doctor chuckled and then told me something I had never heard before.

"Amy," he said. "If I could meet with my patients and tell them, 'Tomorrow I'm going to cut your bone, then I want you to get pregnant the next day,' I would. I would prescribe pregnancy for every patient, because the hyper-inflammatory state of your bones makes them heal faster and stronger."

My jaw dropped. God did know what He was doing. He knew I couldn't bear to go through that surgery again, so He ensured that everything would heal up properly by giving us a baby, an answered prayer, a girl, and a blessing.

God acted in my best interest and listened to me tell Him how much I disagreed with His plan. He listened to me whine and complain. All the while, He knew that not only was He taking care of my foot, but He was blessing our family. We call our little girl, The Cherry on Top. She's the treat that we all adore.

And my foot rarely hurts me anymore.

(The scars that cover my leg, the tatto Christ placed on my body to reveal His mighty work to me again and again, since I was 9 years old)

There's a Stirring

2010-10-26T08:08:00.000-07:00

There's a stirring deep within me...

I love that song, by Caedmon's Call.

I had forgotten about it, until this week, and that was the only way I could describe how I feel.

There's a stirring.

Not the kind of stirring, like I'm restless.

The kind of stirring of the Holy Spirit.

I feel that I could sit in one place and imagine Him moving all around me, like a spider weaving a web, He is weaving a plan for me. The stirring is beautiful and breathtaking. But with each thread He weaves into my heart and out again, I feel crushed beneath the weight of it all.

Not because it is a burden, but because it is so wonderful, my flesh cannot bear the wonderfulness of it. I want to burst into tears, not out of sadness, but from being in the presence of the Lord.

The stirring continues, and I have yet to collapse, but every day I wonder how much more of His presence can I take without it killing me.

I have a small glimpse of what Isaiah must have felt before the throne of God when he said, "I am a man of unclean lips." I wonder why the Spirit takes so much time weaving into my heart when it is so filthy.

I wonder why He believes in me, when I'm not sure anyone believes in me.

But most of all, I wonder, what will the tapestry look like when He is done? What will my life look like when He threads the last bit of glory into my heart.

I wonder when He will stop stirring and let me rest, yet I never want it to stop.

I Am A Doula

2010-10-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

In case you didn't know, I am a certified doula. Amy Mykytiuk (CBD CBI).

Doula is a Greek word that means, woman's servant.

That basically sums up the job of a doula, at least in my book. The professional title limits the service to that that is given during pregnancy, labor and delivery, and the postpartum period.

However, I am finding that doula describes me in more than just terms that give me the certification to assist women through pregnancy, birth and the newborn phase.

I have been given opportunities to serve women in many different capacities, which is what God called me to do when I was 16 years old and I surrendered to the ministry, to be God's servant.

As a certified doula, I have seen God use me in ways I never imagined.

Doulas are not midwives that deliver babies. A doula can offer assistance in childbirth education, and during birth as a labor coach, support system, and advocate.

In the postpartum period a doula offers her skills to aid in infant care, breastfeeding, or simply caring for the mother's home with light housework and cooking while the new mother rests.

A doula in no way gives medical advice or services.

I have found myself assisting in all these areas, although I am currently certified as a birth doula.

I have supported a mother through her completely natural birth of her baby girl. It was the most wonderful thing I had ever been a part of.

I have helped a mother who found herself struggling with breastfeeding. At the end of her rope, she prayed for God to help her, when He brought me to her mind. The next day, we were able to fix her problem in a matter of minutes.

I have helped mothers as they learn how to care for their newborns.

I have helped a newly pregnant mother discover whether her vitamins and supplements are safe for the baby until she can get to her doctor.

And I have found myself in a place where I am driven to help mothers who find themselves in a tragic place, struggling to get out of bed in the morning.

I love being a doula. I love every part of it from the newly pregnant, to the beautiful birth, to the struggles each mom faces with a newborn.

I Am A Doula!

Pain, Sickness, and Healing

2010-10-20T07:47:00.000-07:00

Today was a special day, yet I feel I didn't do it justice. It's one of those days I feel I should have held a huge celebration in honor of God. But I didn't. I rested most of the day and shirked most of my responsibilities.

But in my heart, I celebrated. I celebrated everything God has done for me.

Last week, I began to have pain in my arm. The pain is nothing new. I've had it many times before and it lasts for months and months. It gets so bad I can't even lift my arm, or squeeze the shampoo bottle.

It is bad.

A day later, the pain spread to my back and neck. I spent days in agony. I could not find a position to lay down or sit where it didn't hurt. Standing, sitting, laying, leaning. They all hurt.

I took Ibuprofen, but it didn't touch it. I took a stronger pain killer, Altram, but it only made me feel groggy. I took some aspirin and got some relief, but within 4 hours the pain was screaming at me again.

Last night, I was tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of not feeling good enough to do anything. Tired of being in pain.

As I laid in bed, My Man asked, "What can I do for you? Is there anything?"

There was nothing he could do short of taking me to the ER and letting them drug me up with some good stuff. But again, that does not fix the problem, only hides it.

So I just muttered, "Pray for me."

He did just that. He laid his hand on me and prayed. I don't remember his prayer, I think I fell asleep immediately as he began talking to God.

I woke in the middle of the night to thunder and lightning, but could not open my eyes. It was as if I had been drugged. I couldn't think straight, talk right, or do anything right for that matter. So I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

This morning I woke up, afraid to move. It's when I move that the first pain comes over me like an ocean trying to drown me. The pain never subsides, only gets worse throughout the day.

But I moved anyway. I felt nothing. I raised my arm above my head. No pain. I got out of bed, and still no pain.

After a few minutes, it dawned on me. I've been healed!

When I get pain like this in my back and neck, it is weeks or months before I get relief, and usually only after I visit a doctor and get some muscle relaxers and pain pills. But today, God took care of it!

I am healed!

Sacrificial Giving

2010-10-15T14:26:00.000-07:00

No, I don't mean giving your 10% tithe, or the clothes you don't need anymore, or all the things you just really want out of your house.

The key word here is...

Sacrificial

I have been reading a most excellent book called, Radical: Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream.

It is not just a good book. It is a must read book. David Platt takes the message of the Gospel, puts it back in it's original context and challenges our American ideals about God, Jesus, and our faith.

This is not a review of his book, but just a set up to my current dilemma.

My man and I began down a journey a long time ago, ridding our lives of unnecessary distractions, clutter and money hogs so that we might live more simply.

It began back in February when we experienced the worst ice storm to hit Oklahoma. Our power went out for 3 weeks. In response to our lack of heat, we lit our two gas log fireplaces, and wall heater in our bathroom. We then shut off half of our 2300sq. ft. house in order to keep the other half warmer.

During those days of living in half our space, I never once felt cramped or missed the other half. I sat in my living room and realized, we live way too extravagantly compared to most of the world. In fact, we were among the fortunate just in our community. Many people had no source of heat, and suffered with little ones through the cold.

The fact is, if you make more than $10,000 a year, you are wealthier than 84% of the world's population, and if you make $50,000 a year, you are wealthier than 99% of the world's population. (Platt)

Before I read Platt's book, I thought $50,000 was just barely enough to feed, clothe and provide shelter for a family of six.

How ignorant and selfish! I have never gone hungry, or cold, or thirsty. I have never gone without a cute pair of shoes, basic medical care, or meaningless entertainment. In fact, I indulge in entertainment, shoes, food, coffees and sodas, and central heat and air.

My heart is broken to think that I have been among the world's richest group of people all my life and still always felt I needed more. Not wanted, but needed.

Jesus talks a lot about money. He says it is easier for a camel to walk through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to enter heaven.

I always read that verse and thought about the people who live in Beverly Hills and drive million dollar cars. But the truth is, I AM the rich man.

A rich man approached Jesus, asking to follow Him as one of His disciples. Jesus told him to sell... some things and raise money for their ministry?
Oh, no that's wrong.
Jesus told him to use his money to come along and help support and feed them as they traveled and ministered?
No that's wrong too.
Jesus told him to sell everything he had, and then he could follow Jesus. The man went away sad because he loved his money and desired to be wealthy more than he wanted to follow Jesus.

I AM that rich man!

So after the storm we began to look at our indulgent lives in every aspect. Nothing was pleasing to the Lord about the way we lived, worked, or played. It was all so comfortable and easy.

We put our house up for sale. We sold my man's prized vehicle, paid off the debt and bought an older one with the money left over, fully paid for.
My man quit his job so that we might do something more fitting to our Kingdom purpose in life, someplace where we aren't so comfortable and void of any need for faith or our Sovereign Provider.

In the days that followed, we cancelled our satellite. We stopped renting movies and now we only get them from the library. We stopped eating out. We stopped making unnecessary trips and using gas or shopping for things we don't really need.

I stopped selling my kids clothing and items to make money to buy new clothes, but started giving it away instead.

I'm not saying all this to say look at what we've done. I'm writing it out because I find myself in a state of frustration.

We have given up all our luxuries. And God is asking me now, "Amy, thank you for giving up your excess. But I asked you to sacrifice it ALL."

I need to sacrificially give, but I don't know how. Not yet, anyway. I'm praying about it, waiting for God to show us. And I'm anxious to see Him work, in our life and in other's lives.

All I know is, if it is that hard (impossible) for a rich man to enter heaven, I want to be the poorest person on earth.

The Child I Don't Know

2010-10-11T14:02:00.000-07:00

My children were playing wildly, with screams of laughter coming from all around me. I'm not sure what game they were lost in, but it must have been fun. They ran from each other, toward each other, while letting out shrills of pure enjoyment. But something was missing. Someone was missing.

We were all outdoors, but an open building or shelter stood in the middle of the area. It was not nice like a park. It was dirty and muddy, like the middle of a city, more like a place you would see in an advertisement to help feed the children.

I walked around, enjoying the sound of my children's laughter, when I rounded the corner of the open building. There stood my sweet daughter. She was about one year-old. Her skin was dark as night and more beautiful than I could've imagined. Her hair was short and curly. Her bare feet were not scratched and dirty from walking around, but perfectly smooth and lovely.

I wasted no time and scooped her up into my arms, admiring her exquisite beauty. I marveled at the darkness of her skin. I spoke softly to her, telling her how beautiful she was and how beautiful the color of her skin was, just as if she was an infant to which I had just given birth. There was no denying that I was her mother, she was my daughter and I loved her the same as my other children.

I squeezed her little body and held on tight, knowing that she would be mine forever. She was what I had longed for and prayed for, for so long. Now here she was in my arms! Joy flooded my soul as I began to walk with her.

I hugged her one last time, more tightly, kissing her cheek.Then there was a ringing.

I opened my eyes and I was at home on my couch. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and gathered my senses. The phone was ringing and it woke me from my sleep.

Then I remembered.

The girl. She was so real. The love I felt for her, my daughter, was so real. My heart immediately burst into painful cries, wishing to hold her again. My body physically ached as I mourned her absence from my arms. Tears flowed from my eyes before I even knew what was happening. I missed her.

It was as if I had given birth to a precious child and for a few brief moments I held her and loved her, believing I would keep her forever. Just as I fell in love, she was taken suddenly from my arms and I was told, "You can have her back in a year or so."

Please, Lord, bring my baby back to our family, soon! Let us hold her, not only in our dreams, but in our arms and our hearts.

Perception and Reality

2010-10-06T08:33:00.000-07:00

I have been doing a diet now for a week and a half. I like to call it the Nazi-diet. Well my man actually coined the phrase when a friend of mine was on it, but it fits nicely.

Originally I was not going to blog about my diet and progress because I felt it was better kept private, and I am still holding to that decision, but I do want to blog about what this diet has taught me over the last week and a half.

Here's how the diet works; I am only allowed to eat 500 calories a day that consists of 2 servings of meat, chicken or fish; 2 servings of vegetables with about 10 to choose from; and 2 servings of fruits with four to choose from. I can have 1 Tablespoon of milk per day, and sucralose or stevia. All sugar, starch, carbohydrates, and fats are not allowed, not even a little. Nazi Diet!

(For those of you out there shaking your heads because you think I am on some crazy crash diet that will only give me quick results with all the weight coming back on in a couple of weeks, this is not the case. This is the diet most doctors are putting people on, it's called the HCG diet and is perfectly safe. You can research it at hcgdietinfo.com if you need to know more. But rest assured, I am not a crazy crash diet person who wants to kill herself. Just a woman with a seriously injured body that cannot function with extra weight or exercise to the extreme I would need to in order to lose weight, without further injury.)

My first few days on the diet were not too difficult, but took some getting used to. My servings can only be 3.5oz and must be weighed for accuracy. The first few days I would weigh out my food and then put it on a little saucer. I would look at the amount and wonder how I could survive on so little food. It seemed like I was only getting a couple of bites.

My body was hungry. I felt my stomach growl. People around me heard my stomach growl, but I pressed forward.

After 5 days I craved food full of fat. I craved foods I don't even like, such as bacon. The smell took over all my senses and made me lust.

After 6 days I wanted my sweets again. I missed brownies and cookies. I wanted filling foods like bread, and granola bars. I wanted something to satisfy my very demanding sweet tooth.

At day 7, something happened. I felt satisfied and stuffed after my meals. While weighing out my portions, I began to notice they were much bigger than they had been in the beginning. I weighed them 2 and 3 times to make sure I wasn't giving myself too much, but indeed, it was still just 3.5 ounces. How could it be that now 3.5 ounces seemed to be too much for me to eat?

I realized my perception had changed. I changed my habits and my perception of those habits changed.

I am allowed a pop with sucralose in it, so yesterday, I decided to treat myself. I took a few swigs, expecting them to be like heaven, but instead it felt like I coated my mouth and throat with sugar. I could barely stand the taste.

I try to save one of my fruit servings for an evening snack. Last night I took out an orange, the first orange I've had since starting this diet. I was saving it's sweetness for a time I really needed it.

I ate the entire orange, savoring each bite. I savored an orange! But when it was gone, I felt once again that my mouth and throat had been coated in sugar. I wanted to go back in time and not eat the orange because it made me feel so bad.

I couldn't believe that an orange could be too sweet for me. I couldn't help but wonder, what's happened to me?

My perception changed when my habits changed.

I learned an important lesson this week. If I will discipline myself to change my bad habits, my perception will change.

A woman once told me, "My perception is my reality."

While I understand what she is talking about, I felt there was a major flaw in the statement. We always consider our perception to be reality, whether it is or not. Most often, our perception is not reality and our habits must be changed in order that our perception would be reality.

For instance, when I changed my habits on eating, my perception changed. In the beginning, my perception was that I need a big plate full of food to be fed.

As I changed my habits to eating less, my perception of the amount changed. When I looked at the food, I thought it must be twice as much as I am allowed. However, the scale showed it to still be 3.5 ounces. My perception was that I was giving myself too much food, but the reality was that it was just enough. The scale doesn't lie.

Another example would be a person who suffers from color blindness. They may look at a green shirt and say, "That is a grey shirt." Their eyes see a grey shirt, their mind interprets a grey shirt, they believe it is a grey shirt. Despite all that, the reality still remains, it is green. Their perception has be skewed by a disease.

My perception has been made right by a good habit. Before I started this diet, my habit was to eat however much I wanted. Now that I have made myself to eat a reasonable amount, my perception meets reality; 3.5 ounces is just enough.

We can let our bad habits dictate our perception and our reality and consequently force those around us to tolerate a person living a lie. The result is an attitude that says, "Don't tell me what's right and wrong, because this is what's right for me."

We cannot call perception reality. There are absolutes in this world. The sky is blue and no matter how much you want to believe it is not, the fact will still remain... it is blue.

We can say what is right and wrong, up and down. We can set absolute rules and laws, because there is a truth and a standard that is not up for debate or argument.

God, Yahweh, is Creator, Sovereign LORD.
Man has sinned, every man and woman. Now there is a gap between humans and God because God is too holy to be in the presence of sin and to let the crime of sin go unpunished. Just as we would not let a murderer or thief or rapist go free without punishment, God cannot allow a sinner to go without punishment.
That punishment is separation from God forever.
Jesus, His son, died, in our place and took on the punishment we deserve, so that we might receive forgiveness for all the wrong we have done.
Faith in Jesus is the only way to receive forgiveness, be exempt from the punishment and not suffer eternal separation from God.

You can say, "That may be a good system of belief for you, but it's not right for me."

It still remains the truth, and a fact, despite what you choose to believe. God's existence is not dependent on your belief in Him. However, your eternity is.

Want to change your reality? Change your perception by changing your habits.

Here Comes the Sun!

2010-09-28T12:26:00.000-07:00

*I wrote this the day after we got back from Colorado, but for some reason it wasn't saved, so here it is again, a little later.*

I woke up as the sun hit my face, causing me to squint beneath it's brightness. I stretched and opened my eyes to a beautifully comfortable room... my room. The burgandy walls are only outdone by the 6 windows that surround the room and allow the morning sun to flow in.

My king size bed was familiar and pillowy beneath me. Comfortable. Relaxing.

I decorated it to be an escape from the noise and clutter of life, children, and responsibilities.
It contains no pictures of children, no computer or business. Only pictures of my love and myself. Only items that bring us delight are brought into our bedroom. It is our safe haven, away from everything.

As wonderful as my room is, my heart sank beneath the soft sheets. Yesterday, I could not wait to get home. After 10 hours of driving, I thought I would die if I could not fall into my wonderfully comfortable bed.

Today, I wish I was not home.

I wanted to be back in God's sanctuary.

It was there that I was awakened by little feet and legs crawling into my sleeping bag to cuddle and get warm with me. The 40F temperature at 10,000 ft in the Rocky Mountains every morning, was reason enough to stay in our tent just a little while longer.

I rushed around to get dressed, only after I had dressed my children in 3 layers of clothing while freezing my tooshie. I then stepped outside my tent into the glorious sanctuary of God, where I inhaled a pure, crisp breath of air unlike any other. It was here that I could look up to the sky and find the fingertips of the sun gently caressing the tops of the mountain peaks, as if trying to sneak up on those of us down in the valley below.

I stood beneath the golden aspens as they rained their leaves on my head. They left their little golden jewels along the ground, giving me a small glimpse of what the streets of gold in heaven must be like.
I felt like a queen, walking on a surface that was prepared for royalty.

After spending a minute or two thanking God for the magnificent gift of my current setting, I moved on to a breakfast of pancakes and eggs with coffee. Little else can compare to the aroma and flavors of the morning while camping in the mountains.

After breakfast, the sun came closer to reaching the tiny little inhabitants beneath the grand mountains.

I remembered those mornings, feeling sorrow that this morning I would not dance with my children as we shed 1 or 2 layers of clothing and sang,

"Here comes the sun, do da doo doo, here comes the sun!"

I miss the glory of God's sanctuary. I miss the beauty of my children and my family basking in the glory of God's sanctuary.

My cozy room is beautiful. I did a great job at making it a sanctuary, filled with beauty and comfort. But no matter how good I am at decorating, none of it can compare to God's breathtaking sanctuary.

One day I will walk the streets of gold, and the light that stretches to reach me will not be from a bright star, but rather from the only true source of Light, the Almighty! My body will not be warmed by his light, but my heart and soul will be restored and warmed with His love.

I will dance and sing as I shed the old flesh and Christ clothes me in His eternal rest and peace. Because I will be with Him, I will not need to sing,

"Here comes the Son!"

Instead I can sing,

"Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord, God Almighty!"

I will dance and sing with all the believers and joy will accompany every minute of eternity, as we bask in the glory of God's sanctuary.
If it's more beautiful than my mountain sanctuary, I cannot begin to comprehend it's magnificence. Nonetheless, I cannot wait to take it all in.

Beautiful Colorado in the Fall

2010-09-27T13:11:00.000-07:00

It's one of those times in life that I feel everything I want to write should not be shared, at least not yet. I have so much on my heart and so much I want to say, scream, shout, or yell, but just as it comes to the surface I choke it back into my heart.
It's like when you are having an argument with your spouse or friend and you want to say so much. You want to point your finger at them and tell them all the things that hurt and exactly what they did to cause it. But you know... it will only cause more pain. It's better to keep it inside and fight fair without pointing a finger at anyone but myself.

I'm not pointing fingers, but the lessons God is teaching me clearly are my lessons. The day will come that I can share, but today they are for me. If I shared today, they would be misunderstood, misconstrued and misused. It would appear I was pointing a finger when indeed my finger is only pointing to God's Holy Word, which has been twisted and misconstrued. I want to point out the truth of the Gospel, but Americans have gotten so far off base, it's hard to share the truth without sounding like a hater.

I'm not a hater. I'm not angry. I just found the truth.

Since I cannot share with you what is on my heart, I will share with you some beautiful pictures I took while in Colorado last week.

Isn't it Grand?

Best Buds

I know it's out of focus, but I still love it.

Ta Da! It's the Rocky Mountains!

Our Campground

A picture of Summer, Fall and Winter. The flowers, fall leaves and snow all together at once.

The Narrow Road: Part III

2010-09-12T20:13:00.000-07:00

*Be sure to scroll down and read Part I and II before reading Part III.*

Beth was sucked back from unconsciousness by the blood curdling screams of her brother.

Her eyes popped open, and although it was his screaming that woke her, she did not consciously hear them. She was lying on her side in the back of the little green hatchback. She remembered what had happened, but realized she was all alone in the car.

She quickly popped her head up through the sun roof of the car to look around.

The car was in the middle of a field. She could see the road just beyond the smashed barbed-wire fence where her brother, Adam, lay struggling to free himself from the sharp thorns of the fence.
Her other brother, Justin, was sitting in the ditch. Blood covered his face and he grasped his knee. He was screaming and rocking band forth like a mother rocking her baby.
Beth could not hear the screams, it was as if she was watching a movie with the television muted.

She quickly climbed out through the driver's side window and began walking around. Beth was in shock. She had no thoughts running through her mind. Her mind had flipped a switch and turned itself off, leaving her body to wander around aimlessly.

Finally, some stranger took her and sat her down on the ground in the ditch. People were milling around her and her brothers, but she paid no attention. She kept telling the stranger sitting next to her, "My mother. Someone needs to call my mother. Please someone tell my mother."

No one seemed too concerned with contacting her mother. She worried more and more.

At last, a man asked Beth for her home phone number.
"Finally," Beth thought. "He's going to let my mother know we have been in a wreck."

Another man with a friendly face walked over to Beth and bent down in front of her. He smiled a kind and gentle smile. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Beth."

"Beth," he continued, "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No," she responded, "I don't think so." At that point she realized the man was an EMT and an ambulance was parked on the road in front of her.

"Beth," the man said calmly. "I'm going to make sure you aren't hurt. Would that be okay if I just feel of your back and make sure nothing is broke?"

Beth nodded her head just before he began to feel of her ribs and back. He seemed pleased as he finished his exam. Beth had no broken bones or injuries.

The man gently helped Beth stand and walked her to the ambulance.

"We're going to take your brothers to the hospital, Beth." He explained. "You can ride with us, up here in the front and you can wait for your mother at the hospital. We called her and she is going to meet us there."

Beth was scared. She wanted to wait right there for her mother.
"What if Mama can't find me at the hospital? Who is going to take care of me when we get there?" She wondered.

But Beth had no other choice but to trust the man with a friendly face. He had cared enough to make sure she was not injured. Hopefully he would continue to take are of her until her Mama found her.

Beth climbed into the ambulance and waited in the passenger seat. The man with the friendly face drove the ambulance down the rough road, trying to go slow and gentle for Beth's injured brothers in the back.

"Do you want a piece of gum?" he asked Beth as he pulled away from the site of the wreck.

It was a gesture of friendship. Beth felt more at ease, but dreaded the minutes that would pass before she met up with her mother.

The driving was slow. She could hear the cries of her brother, Adam, every time they hit a bump. He lay on his sliced up back,on a wooden board and every bounce amplified his pain. Beth hurt for her brother and wished he wouldn't cry out like he did.

Finally, the ambulance arrived at the hospital. Justin and Adam were taken back to see the doctors, while the ambulance driver took Beth to the waiting room. She sat alone scared.

After a few minutes, one of Adam's football buddies showed up in the waiting room. He tried to offer Beth comfort with a hug, but he was still sweaty and stinky from football practice. Beth was not comforted and cringed at the thought of having to wait with him.

Just as she felt she could not go another minute without her mother, the automatic sliding doors to the Emergency Room opened. In walked her mother, more beautiful than Beth had ever seen her, even through her tears.

The feeling was mutual between mother and daughter. Morgan walked into the ER, unsure of what she should expect to find waiting for her.

"Is this the part where they tell me my daughter is dead and ask me to identify her body?" She asked herself.

Morgan had been praying the whole trip, but her prayer at this moment was one of desperation.
"Oh Father, I don't think I can bear that kind of news. Please, God, please! Let her be okay."

As she prayed, Morgan could not hold back the tears any longer. She was on the verge of breaking.

As she stepped into the Emergency Room entrance, her eyes focused on the check-in desk in front of her. She took a deep breath, hoping she would be able to speak to the woman sitting behind the counter. Just as she forced herself toward the woman, she heard, "Mama!"

Morgan turned to see her daughter running toward her. Morgan held her daughter tight as she cried.
"It's okay," she whispered. She said a little prayer of thanks at the same time. Both of them knew, now, everything would be okay.

The Narrow Road: Part II

2010-09-09T09:04:00.000-07:00

*Make sure you scroll down and read Part I first, if you have not done so already.*

Morgan hung up the phone. She took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Keys. I need keys," she spoke to herself. She reached over a took hold of her purse, searching through the pockets. Finally, she heard the jingle and grabbed hold of the bundle of cold metal. As she pulled the jingling mess from her purse, she noticed the noise was caused by her trembling hand. She held the keys, watching her hand tremble as if she were trying to make the keys jingle.

"I can't drive like this," she said out loud. "I have to find someone to drive me, but who?"

She thought for a moment. "Pastor Kurt! My pastor can drive me." She was proud of herself for thinking clearly enough to recall her pastor, who lived just behind their house. While standing at her back door, she could see his house through the thicket of trees, beyond the wire fence that separated their properties.

Morgan picked up the phone again and called her pastor.

"Hello," He answered.

"Pastor Kurt, this is Morgan Smith. I just received a phone call that my kids were in a car accident and are being taken to Children's Hospital by ambulance. I am too much of a mess to drive myself, so I was wondering if you would drive me up there?" She asked, with as much calm as she could muster and as little begging as possible.
What she really wanted to say through sobs and tears was, "My kids! Please! Please! Help me! Get over her quick and get me to the hospital!"

He responded with a bit of surprise as he said, "Um, well, um, ya, sure. I think I can do that. I'll be over to pick you up in just a minute."
Morgan was relieved. She knew, that although his house was just behind hers, he would still need to drive about 4 miles to her house to pick her up because of the country roads. So she prepared herself to wait because she knew the minutes would seem like hours.

Morgan hung up the phone and tried to think if there was anything else she could do. Her husband would be on his way home, so there was no need to try to call him at work. She would just have to wait until he arrived home. But she decided it would be best to leave him a note so he wouldn't worry.

As she looked for pen and paper the phone rang again. Although she was reluctant to answer, she did so quickly. It was Pastor Kurt again.

"Morgan," he began. "Why don't you just walk back here, that way I don't have to drive all the way over there to pick you up."

Morgan felt a tinge of pain in her gut as he asked the question.

She had just received a call that two of her children were on their way to the hospital, and there was no word of the third.
"Is she dead and they don't want to tell me on the phone? Was she thrown too, but they don't know to look for her?"
So many questions hanging in her mind, and nothing was there to keep her from losing it altogether.

Now her pastor doesn't even have the compassion and sensitivity to come pick her up, but expects her to walk through a small, overgrown forest and climb through a fence? How can he be so insensitive?

"Sure," she answered through her tears. "I'll be right over."

She quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper, and walked out the door. She pushed her way through the foliage, and squeezed under the fence. Before she walked up to Pastor Kurt's house, she wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Are you ready?" She heard his voice from behind her. He was standing next to his car ready to go.

"Yes, let's go." she responded as she climbed into the passenger seat.

Beth was slightly annoyed that she had to stay at the library after school. She rarely had homework, so the extra hour she spent just sitting made for a boring afternoon.

Finally, Adam arrived, angry for one reason or another. It wasn't unlike him to be in a huff most of the time, upset about something, which made it easy to ignore his disturbed demeanor. Truthfully, she didn't care why he was upset, she just wanted to get home.She quickly, and reluctantly, climbed in the back of the car, since Justin claimed the front seat for himself.

As they headed down the narrow road toward their new home, Beth look around her. She was terribly uncomfortable in the hatchback. There was no back seat, so she sat on a bare platform. Behind her was the sun roof. It was not an electric powered window, but rather one that was physically removed and stored in the back of the car. She looked at the large hooks that connected it to the body of the car.
"Those look dangerous," she thought. "Especially if we get in a wreck and it's flying around back here with me."

She then noticed all the school books and band instruments surrounding her. She felt crowded in. However, she had at least another 20 minutes in this position, so she decided to make the best of it.

Beth grabbed her book and tried to find a comfortable spot to read. She looked up at her two brothers in the front seats playing with the radio and situating themselves.

"I could sit against the side of the car," she thought. "But what if we get in a wreck? That wouldn't be a safe position."

She glanced back up at the road and thought, "But that will ever happen to me."

"Oh no!" Adam yelled. Just as Beth looked up from her book, the car went racing across the street, tires squealing. Everything began to move in slow motion as the car tumbled over and over. Books and instruments were flying all around her.

"It happened," she thought frantically. "We're having a wreck, right now."

Then, everything went black. Nothing.

The Narrow Road

2010-09-08T14:37:00.000-07:00

The afternoon was winding itself down quickly. The rain had let up and left the late afternoon sky grey and cool. Morgan was busy planning and preparing for dinner as she waited for the kids to get home from school.
Her day had been just like the previous days, full of work as she put together her new Mediterranean style home. They had finally moved out of their rent house into a beautiful 3,000 sq. ft. home set on a woodsy two acres. Moving the family, including 3 of the 6 children left at home, was proving to be more work than she had bargained for.
Much to her delight, the work had not been so much unpacking the piles of cardboard boxes, but rather in decorating her new home until it was just right.

As she pulled out the final ingredients for dinner, she noticed the time. Almost 5PM, and the kids still weren't home from school.

Since their move, Morgan couldn't bear to remove her children from their beloved school, smack dab in the middle of the school year. She had decided to allow them the last few months with their friends before she broke the news to them that next year they would have to attend the local school in their new community.

For now, the family made the sacrifice to get the kids to school 20 minutes away, rather than just a couple of miles down the road.
Although, she had at times contemplated whether she had made the best decision.

They now lived far out into the country. The roads were narrow and barely wide enough for two cars side by side. They had no line down the middle, and no true edge to the asphalt. They looked more like an asphalt machine drove through the landscape dumping it's load along the way. The roads were dangerous to say the least, and letting her 17 year-old son who didn't have the best driving record in town, drive the three of them to school made her reconsider her choice.
But in the end, she decided it would be best to let the kids finish out the year, and pray for their protection as they drove the 15 miles of back roads twice a day in a little green hatchback with no backseat.

However, this afternoon, she was beginning to question her decision, again, as the minutes ticked by. She tried to busy herself with dinner instead of thinking about the possibilities of where they might be.

The two younger kids, Beth and Justin, had stayed after school in the library working on homework while their older brother, Adam, attended his after-school football practice. When it was over he would pick the two up and head home.

"Maybe practice just went a little later than usual," Morgan thought. "They'll be walking in the door any minute."

The phone rang.

Morgan stood at the counter staring at the phone, afraid to pick it up.

Finally, she grabbed it, breaking the sound of the horrid ring.

"Hello," she answered.

"Mrs. Smith?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Oh no," she thought. "Something has happened. My fears have come true."

"Yes, that's me." she said as calmly as her shaky voice would allow.

"Mrs. Smith, my name is Peter. I'm an EMT in Blanchard. I am sorry to inform you, but your kids have been in a car accident. A pretty bad one. We are transporting them to the hospital right now."

She felt like she had swallowed a rock and it had just hit the pit of her stomach. Her tears caught in her throat as she feared the answer to her next question. She had already experienced her share of tragedy and injuries when her youngest fell under a brush hog just a couple years earlier. But, she needed to know what she would face when she arrived at the hospital.

"Are they okay?" she managed to ask.

"Yes. Your oldest was thrown from the car and landed in a barbed-wire fence. He is pretty cut up, but okay. Your other boy was thrown too. He landed in a ditch, and it seems he's hurt his knee, but I think they will be okay. We are taking them to Children's Hospital, we'll see you there," he said politely and hung up the phone.

Morgan stood frozen in the middle of her kitchen holding the dead phone to her ear. She had no comfort in his words. Even more fear raced through her body. As a single tear rolled down her face, she whispered into the dead air, "But what about my daughter?"