525,000 Moments So Dear

"How do you measure . . . a year?"

Now comes the part where I will try my best to boil an entire year down to a few dismally inadequate words. The problem with once-a-year letters is that they highlight mostly the "major" events - the accomplishments and the big transitions and the things that look good on paper, when in reality it's the everyday moments that make us who we are; it's the small "uninteresting" things that I think are really worth writing about. I love the letters we receive at Christmas and I pour over every word, because they come from those we care about and I truly do enjoy reading about the major happenings in their lives. But I often wish these missives came with a second page that expressed in vivid color the ecstasies, the challenges, the opportunities, the growth, the changes, the longings that have left their mark on each person's soul.

But enough of my philosophizing . . . I do get carried away sometimes. On to the topic at hand, which I'm truly looking forward to. After all, there's little else I enjoy more than talking/writing about my family. (The above was one of many, many unsuccessful attempts at a family Christmas picture. I included it because it made me laugh, and because the expressions on the munchkins' faces - and the kicking legs - are so true to life.)

Karis
What can I say? At 15 months she looks a lot different now than she did this time last year! Our little Kari Bou began walking in July, at 10 1/2 months of age, and hasn't stopped moving since. She's about as mischeivous as they come and NOTHING is out of her reach. Her most recent escapades have involved climbing: into the bathroom sink, onto the kitchen table, up flights of stairs, you name it. There's "child-proofing" and then there's "Karis-proofing" - two totally different things. What saves her, though, is her extreme cuteness. When caught, her favorite tactic is to smile or laugh - and she does so with her whole body - eyes sparkling, hands waving, feet moving, head thrown back. You can't help but join in. Dancing is one of her favorites, too - she'll bee-bop to just about any tune.

She loves baby dolls. Often she falls asleep with one in each arm. She's recently added the word "baby" to her vocabulary (along with "NO!" and "bye-bye" and various animal sounds). She has a little tuft of hair sprouting out the back of her head that, no matter what I do, always manages to look like bird feathers. It does suit her squawky little personality, though. She's a clown and will do anything to make people laugh (This could be scary later on). She's tough. She has to be, with fairly non-gentle sibs and a penchant for bruising her face and cutting herself up. I have a feeling we'll be pretty familiar with the ER by the time she graduates.

On a side note, her name has degenerated from "Karis" to "Kari Bou" to "Poo Bou" to "Poo Bear" to "Pooberry Muffin" since last Christmas.

Zekers
Call him "Zeke", "Ezekiel", or anything else, and you'll get the same reply: "I'm not Ezekiel - I'm ZEKERS!" (accompanied by furrowed brow and indignant voice) He's also my Budders and his Daddy's Mr. Beef.

His favorites include: being read to, playing with trains, building with blocks, playing house with Rachel, giving Mommy & Daddy a kiss or a hug, and then "nudder kiss" and "nudder hug." He's our snuggler; he just seems to melt right into your arms when he's tired, and he loves getting into bed with us in the morning (which is good, since he wakes up around 6-6:30 most days). The really great thing is, he'll play by himself for hours at a time, just creating little make-believe scenarios with his farm animals. If you ask Zekers a question, you'll get the answer in a complete sentence. I can't recall him ever answering with a simple "yes" or "no." (This makes my nerdy English teacher heart burst with pride, but I can't take credit for any of it.) He can be a man of few words, but when he wants to talk, he's quite articulate.

Zekers can count to 20 pretty much on his own; however, since he learned to do so through playing hide-and-seek around the house, his counting is nearly always accompanied by, "Ready or not - here I come!"

"When he is good, he is very very good, and when he is bad he is horrid." That magical age of 2 1/2 hit him full force. Zekers can be the most pleasant child in the world, and often is; but in many ways, it's been a challenging year for us with him. We're just hoping that by God's grace we'll be able to somehow channel his stubborn streak, which has grown more pronounced in the past 6 months, into some kind of good thing one day! We've learned with him that parenting isn't as cut and dried as we once thought. He's also made it very clear that he won't be using the potty until he's good and ready, which apparently is no time in the forseeable future. I guess the most important thing raising him has taught me is to just let him be who he is and not to try to make him who I think he should be. He loves routine, and he prefers being at home, and he doesn't respond well to change - pretty much the opposite of Mommy! But he can also be the sweetest little boy in the whole world.

We're still trying to figure out where he got his blonde hair . . .

Rachel
At the age of 4, she is maybe the best debater in the family - and that's saying a lot if you know her daddy! She's reached the age of arguing and questioning. And she has a ready answer for everything. She's sharp and quick and a great conversationalist. This is probably just part and parcel of being a 4-yr-old girl, but it's all high drama in her world. Emotions come and go at breakneck speed. I swear she can conjure up tears on demand.

We haven't sent her to preschool - I wanted to keep her home with me for just one more year! I've been working with her several times a week, though, while the younger 2 are napping; we're going through some basic preschool workbooks, which she really enjoys. Just this week she wrote her name completely on her own for the first time.

Rachel had her first "friend birthday party" in August. There really is nothing cuter than nearly a dozen little girls playing together in full princess regalia. And it HAD to be a princess party. She is all girl and loves everything princess and ballerina and fru-fru. She is a very nurturing person and will sit perfectly still for 30 minutes at a time if it means she gets to hold an infant. She took ballet lessons over the summer, and skill-wise was somewhere in the middle, but she loved every minute of it. Another highlight is going to Cubbies and eating SNACKS! (Oh, yeah, they also do Scripture memory, Bible stories, crafts and puppet shows.)

When it comes to pain, she's just about as wimpy as they come, which makes me think that athletics, for her, will be just another social event. She gets her energy from being around people - a true extrovert. Every day, the first thing she asks me when she wakes up is, "Mommy, where are we going today?" or "Mommy, who are we going to see today?" She loves playing make-believe games with her friends and has an (overly?) active imagination. It's pretty common for our living room to look like a mini-hospital: dolls and stuffed animals covering nearly every square inch of the floor and furniture. Each is wrapped in a "blanket" - a towel or wash cloth from the kitchen or bathroom. And each is lovingly tended to according to its needs.

We've had to start being much more careful what we say around her, as she apparently has tape recorders for ears, and has been telling people that Zekers got his blonde hair from the mailman (something Danny joked about one time when she was in another room). That's our Shrum.

The Rest of the Story
This year has seen our church move into a new building and grow in size. Danny's role has transitioned from Youth Pastor to Teaching Pastor; this has brought many new challenges as well as really cool opportunities - for our whole family. It's a tremendous thing to see him doing something for which he's so perfectly gifted, and to see his heart for people. He also had the chance this summer to speak for 2 different youth camps - one outside Columbus and the other in Wisconsin. Both times the entire family was invited to come along, which made for a nice getaway. We went through a helpful marriage study this summer - "Love and Respect," and currently have the privilege of facilitating a small group weekly in our home.

I have thouroughly enjoyed coordinating nursery and 2's-3's this year and singing/ playing guitar on a worship team every third week. Both of these committments have stretched me in different ways. But what I keep thinking about is the question Danny asked at our last communion: "How have you changed to become more like Christ in the past 6 months?" It's a haunting thought - do I look more like Christ? I'd like to think so. And I guess what He's been pounding into my thick head these past 12 months is that I need to be so vigilant - on a daily and sometimes on an hourly basis - to guard my attitude and my heart. I'm learning to nip in the bud those little thoughts that lead to discontent, and worry. I'm leaning on Him instead to teach me to trust and to be completely satisfied in Him.

That's it, for now. Our year in a nutshell. I thought I'd close with a good picture of our family since the first one had some disturbing issues. Enjoy the Christmas season!

You're Only a Day Away

OK, this week has not gone according to plan. We sent Christmas cards to out-of-town friends and family with this blog address, telling those near and dear to us to come here for family updates (shameless blog-pimping, I know). My brilliant plan was to do a big update post the day the cards were sent out, so everyone could "catch up" with what's been happening (and because I'm too lazy to actually send out a Christmas letter). But, as is so often the case, the weekend and first couple days of this week have been downright crazy, and I've had no chance to write about the fam. (My profound apologies to everyone who instead got to read my way overly-opinionated post on Christmas lights.)

So stay tuned. Within the next 24 hours I will, Lord willing, of course, post a full update on everyone, complete with pictures. Love to you all!

Yuletide Acne

This article appeared one year ago on the Carnivorous Caribou website as a guest post. The article possesses a certain sentimental quality, since it was my very first post, and played an instrumental role in the launching of my own blog. I've modified a few things, but my feelings on this subject have not changed since last December. So, without further ado, I give you "Yuletide Acne."


It was a magical evening. Our little family drove through the wintry twilight to take in the lights, the elves and reindeer, the nativity scenes and the softly falling snow, as Christmas sang in our hearts to the tune of Mariah Carey’s Christmas album. It’s a tradition we hope to continue for years to come. Rachel & Zeke shouted excitedly from the back seat every time they saw "Frosty the Snowman." Danny & I held hands in the front and lost ourselves in the joy of the season, while Kari made contented sleeping noises from her infant seat.

But the magic ended suddenly as our starry eyes fell on a hideous sight. The front bushes on an otherwise respectable-looking house were covered with a garish little grid – rows and rows of neon pink, blue, green and yellow lights. This monstrosity covered the front part of the bushes, and ended abruptly in a perfect line about halfway across the last bush.

It was then that I realized: Net lights are a zit on the face of Christmas - an angry red blemish marring the beautiful face of the greatest holiday known to man. As early as October I begin counting the days until Christmas – for this?? I am convinced that every time another net of neon nastiness is thrown onto a poor, unsuspecting bush, an angel actually loses his wings.

The charm of Christmas lights lies in their imperfections; somehow when they wink at you in uneven rows around an evergreen they seem more friendly, more inviting. Not so with net lights, which have all the personality of a giant waffle. Don’t get me wrong – in certain settings, when done well, white net lights can look very nice. But the colored ones are just downright offensive. I understand the need to save time, but I have to say that generally I would rather see no lights at all than those of the net variety.

My personal favorite is net lighting draped on fences, or stretched out and hung from the eaves (After all, what could be more charming than little diagonal rows of neon icicles?). We’ve even seen it marring an entire rooftop. What will they think of next? Net lights for Christmas trees? Net ribbon to grace wreaths and garlands? How about nets full of cherubs? People, the insanity must stop! Let’s start taking some pride in the way we decorate for Christmas!

Coming soon . . . the evils of gargantuan inflatable santas.

Is there anything sadder . . .

. . . than Kari Bou pouring over the pages of an empty photo album titled "Who Loves Baby?"

Rant or Review?

I was reading several movie reviews today, when I came upon this article in which the author gave the movie Nativity Story 2 stars out of 5. It wasn't the numbers that caught my attention, but the manner in which the review was written. It doesn't take an exceptionally intelligent person to discern that the author's critical and sarcastic comments weren't directed so much at the film as at the biblical account itself.

He makes the following statements throughout his "review":

Without faith, then would a movie like this make any sense? What does it tell us about a loving God who murders little children in Bethlehem?

Unless you are of faith, the plot holes stick out like a sore thumb. Why would Joseph have to go to Bethlehem for the census? Why would Aunt Liz know about who Jesus is going to be and not Mary's parents? Or even worse, why would the Angels, who are screaming to the local shepherd that JC is born, not warn the parents of all those little kids that Herod's troops are coming to kill them?

I want to have a conversation with this man about prophecy fulfilled; I want to talk with him about God's sovereignty and His amazing plan extend grace to the undeserving people He created. About the fact that in this fallen world not everything makes sense (to us) - innocent people suffer and injustice seems to take the upper hand, and yet somehow God is glorified in the midst of it all. How I wish I could encourage him to find a Bible and actually read the account(s) of the nativity, and related passages. He obviously has a bone to pick with God, and I pray that He finds some resolution, and some answers.

I can't help adding that I also find it ironic that he does enough emoting in his review to make up for the alleged "lack of emotion" in the film; and I wish I could (nicely) ask him to refrain from writing "reviews" until he can take a more professional approach.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Kari Bou is sweet. Kari Bou is cute. Kari Bou is a destructive force to be reckoned with.

About a week ago, Danny took the older two out to run some errands so I could get some things done around the house. I was getting ready to stick some bread in the oven, when something caught my eye. I turned around to see my little Kari Bou, sitting by the open door of the pantry. She had managed, in the 2 minutes my back was turned, to pull down a box of chicken noodle soup - the kind with the packages of powder and dehydrated noodles & chicken - to chew open one of the packages, and to dump its contents all over the floor and herself. Even more disturbing: she kept scooping up handfuls of the stuff and cramming it into her mouth, and then licking her hands. I guess she really likes chicken noodle soup powder.

But that was nothing compared to her stunt this morning.

Since setting up our Christmas tree, we've had to reprimand her several times for taking / playing with ornaments or pulling on the branches, but I had just breathed an inward sigh of relief, thinking she was actually doing much better than expected. Of course, we had hung the fragile and breakable ornaments toward the top, and left "safer" items near the bottom.

I was trying to get the kids' shoes on so we could leave for WalMart, and had to run out to the garage for about 1 minute to get something from the car. When I came back into the house, I discovered the remains of a glass ornament near the dining room table. It was completely shattered. I swept and cleaned the floor, figuring the culprit had to be Karis, although she was nowhere in sight.

Just then, I noticed some reddish splotches on the floor at the opposite end of the table. Upon closer inspection, I realized it had to be blood, and then noticed more of it on the doorframe, wall, chair and fridge. I ran to the living room, where Kari Bou was playing with a puzzle. Her hands, and the puzzle, were a bloody mess. I later counted about 3-4 small cuts on each hand. It was like when you cut yourself shaving, and the cut refuses to stop bleeding. I couldn't get the blood to stop; meanwhile, she had gotten it on her clothes, my clothes, the sofa, the carpet, and several toys. I kept wiping and cleaning her hands, to no avail. It must not have hurt her, because she didn't even seem to notice anything was different.

I know this sounds ridiculous, but it was the only thing I could think to do under the circumstances. I grabbed the softest mittens I could find and duct taped them to her hands to keep her from pulling them off. I figured that way the blood would be contained at least, and she didn't seem to mind.

So by the time I disinfected everything in sight, stain treated her clothes, changed her diaper (because, of course, she had done her "Mommy is trying to go somewhere so I'm going to poop now" routine in the midst of all this), put new clothes on her and gathered everyone up to leave, it was about 10:00, and I was already exhausted. I'm still trying to figure out how in the world she managed to reach that crazy ornament. When Kari Bou is after something, watch out - she WILL figure out a way to get it!

And the hits just keep on coming . . .

Schizophrenic Holiday

Thursday the Miller clan gathered at our house to celebrate Christmas. If you've ever tried combining 2 holidays, you know how tricky it can be!

I couldn't bring myself to remove the pumpkins from the porch or the fall wreath from the front door. But since it was supposed to be Christmas, I lined our kitchen cabinets with greenery, set out a small lighted Christmas tree, and got out the nativity. At least it was festive - even the dinner table paid tribute to both holidays! We had a fall centerpiece and Christmas plates, napkins and cups. With the weather so warm, it felt like we were celebrating Christmas and Thanksgiving at Easter.

The turkey - my first ever attempt - turned out to be edible, to my extreme relief. We had so much food I nearly hyperventilated trying to figure out where to put it all, and finally decided that before the next time Thanksgiving/Christmas dinner is at our house, we're going to need to put in at least one more kitchen. I am thankful, though, for a basement large enough for us all to gather and open gifts.

By this time next year 2 more cousins will have been added to the mix. Sarah & Anthony announced they are having a girl (although the sudden appearance of various pink outfits on their registry had clued several of us in already), and Hannah & Kenneth will have a boy in February. This has come as good news for Zekers - he won't be surrounded by princesses and mermaids forever!

Friday I got up at 5:15 and shopped until about 11. The sales were a little disappointing compared to last year, but at least most of our Christmas shopping is now complete. (Oh, who am I kidding . . . there will never be a year when I won't be running out the day before Christmas to get the last couple of gifts.)

After lunch we went to a Christmas tree farm and the kids "helped" Daddy cut a tree. I'm still scratching my head trying to figure out how exactly we set out to cut a 4-foot tree and came back with seven-footer. They just don't seem as tall out in the field! The good news was, we only lost Zekers twice.

Rach & Zekers helped me decorate the tree while Danny put up our outdoor lights and greenery. (Every once in a while they'd take a stuffed animal and run outside to "go on vacation.") Then we all had dinner at an actual non-fast-food restaurant, thanks to a gift card we've been saving. Is there anything better than having someone else fix dinner every once in a while?

Saturday was Thanks-giving with the Wrights. We had the traditioinal and delicious "manicotti" - which was a welcome change after 2 days of eating turkey. (We had so much left over, I was trying to figure out how to add some to the kids' eggs or breakfast cereal). It was so warm, the kids played outside most of the afternoon and into the evening.

The highlight of the day was a duck that wandered into the next door neighbors' yard and ate some crackers the munchkins gave him. All the other cousins were trying to be extremely quiet so as not to scare the duck away, but not Zekers. He kept yelling, "COME HERE, DUCK!" at the top of his lungs. After deciding he was tired of waiting for the hapless fowl to approach him, he began chasing it around the yard. The wierd thing was, they both ran pretty much the same way - sort of a fast waddle.

It's funny how the atmosphere and mood of an evening can change so quickly - from the idyllic drive home looking at Christmas lights and listening to peaceful music, to Zekers throwing a tantrum on his bedroom floor and doing such a long "no-breathe" cry that his lips actually turned blue. (His mean, abusive parents actually had the gall to try to put him in pajamas).

It's been such a fun weekend . . . sometimes I wish there was no such thing as Monday!

Top Ten Things I Never Expected to Hear Myself Say

10. "Sweetie, we don't pick our nose while we're standing in line for the Dragon Wagon."

9. "Please take your brother's toe out of your mouth."

8. "If you come out of your room naked ever again when we have company over, you're going to be in BIG trouble."

7. "For the 100th time, Kari Bou, stop beating up your older brother and sister."

6. "That's not a bath toy - it's part of your anatomy."

5. "Come on out of the dryer, Buddy."

4. (gasp!) "Spit out Mommy's plant, right now!"

3. "Just because Daddy smacks Mommy's bottom, that doesn't mean you can do it, too."

2. "OK, lets try and scrub that poop off your neck."

1."Zekers, take Mommy's panties off your head and come eat your dinner."

Walking in the Rain Isn't as Romantic as it's Cracked up to be

Yesterday I woke up at 5:30 (due to the shock of getting 7 uninterrupted hours of sleep, no doubt). Hearing the rain falling softly outside my window, I decided right then and there that an early morning walk would be just the thing to start off the day.

I love rainy days, most of the time. In movies, rain makes even the most mundane moments seem dramatic - or at least incredibly romantic. In the rain, flight becomes more desperate and betrayal more treacherous. Conversations take on greater significance as emotions are heightened. A kiss in the rain becomes a thing of transcendent beauty. The most powerful, climactic scenes generally seem to take place in the rain.

I don't know what I was expecting (or, I do, but I'm just too embarrassed to actually say it!). What I got was a very dark, very cold, very wet walk at an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning. What started out as a gentle sort of drizzle quickly turned into a blustery downpour. It was not fun. It was not romantic. It was not redemptive. I turned around after walking less than four blocks. How can you leave your house feeling like the heroine one moment, and come slogging back home feeling like a complete moron the next?

Sometimes I just have to sit down and have a good laugh at my own expense . . . feel free to join in.

Another Day in Paradise

It's been a good weekend.

Friday Rach & Zekers spent the morning at their friends' house, giving Danny & me some much-needed time to run errands, rake leaves, change the oil in the truck, and spend quality time with Kari Bou - and each other. We picked them up and drove from there to do a little Christmas shopping. It was one of those rare times where I had a list made out, knew exactly where I wanted to go, and bought exactly what I set out to buy. (Generally I find all sorts of great things on sale and spend way too much, then freak out about it all the way home.) The kids even got to hang out at the mall's new play area while I relaxed and ate a pretzel. On the way back, we had dinner at McDonald's - all five of us - for $13.93. Coupons are a beautiful thing.

Saturday evening we celebrated Grandmoo's birthday (the kids call her that because of her deep love of cows) at LaRosa's, then hung out some more with the fam back at the house, had old fashioned sugar cream pie, attempted to take some pix with all the cousins, and scrambled to get everything breakable out of Kari Bou's reach to prevent her from breaking another lamp.

Sunday, we visited a recently-planted church about an hour south of here, and then Danny and the pastor left for a 2-day church-planting summit in Columbus. The service really touched my heart, and God gave me the added gift of talking with a couple of very good friends from high school, who now attend the church, and who I haven't seen in years. It was actually like a mini-reunion. It's funny how you can miss someone and not even realize it until suddenly your lives touch again and the years of being apart just sort of melt away (until you meet their school-aged children for the first time!).

That evening, I attended a pastor appreciation "shrimp boil" hosted by a group of church friends. It is humbling and touching beyond what words can express to be with so many people who genuinely care. And it was fun getting to know a couple of our newer staff members a little better. Even though it was strange to be there without Danny, the night was like a soft blanket: the laughter, and the sharing, and most of all the HUGS - warmed my soul to the core. A couple of the families even recruited their kids - both high school seniors - to babysit for free!

Today the kids have made it their personal mission to test me to the limit. Zeke melted down in the car because Rachel wouldn't stop calling him "Sir Oliver Cheeks" and Rachel busted a large container of yogurt at Kroger, then letting me know that "That's why you don't let a child carry yogurt around, Mom." Karis now has three large scabs and one goose egg on her noggin to add to the 2 bruises from yesterday. She also got her hands on my cell phone and called my sister; once we figured out what was going on, we ended up having a very nice conversation.

All in all, times are good. I thank God for Danny. I thank God for our precious children. I thank God for extended family, for old friends and new ones. And I thank Him for a way to preserve these things, to write them all out, so that they won't be forgotten.

Costume Conglomerate

We went to a costume party on Saturday - what a hoot! We borrowed an Elton John costume from some friends for Danny, I wore an old '80s outfit I had up in the attic, Rachel went as a "mer-fairy", Zekers was a cowboy, and Kari Bou went as "the cutest pumpkin in the world." She didn't retain her stuffing long enough to let me get a good close-up.

By the end of the night, Rachel had accumulated a top-notch mer-fairy costume, complete with mullet, teeth, and granny glasses. For some reason, it sort of put me in mind of the show "Ugly Betty".

Embracing the Mess

It's been one of THOSE days. The kind where you instinctively know that anything you set out to accomplish is just going to be one more exercise in futility.

The morning started out OK. Since the time change, the kids have been getting up around 6 - 6:30, but that's OK, since I've been setting the alarm for 5:30, and generally only letting myself hit the "snooze" button once. It makes a world of difference just having a little time to myself in the AM, instead of the day rushing up on me, in the form of little people in footed pajamas, while I'm still in bed.

Today Karis had an appointment at our pediatritian's office to receive her second flu shot (Children getting the flu shot for the first time have to receive it in 2 "installments."). For us, it's a 40-minute drive to the office, and the parking lot is currently being reconstructed, so about half of it is blocked off, which makes finding a parking spot a bit of a challenge. We finally found one - so far away from the building that it took us nearly 10 minutes to walk to the main entrance and get to the third floor. I took all three kids in, hoping the visit would be fairly brief.

It was brief, alright. We'd been there several minutes when a nurse came out and informed us that Karis couldn't get the shot because it hasn't been four weeks since the first one. I couldn't help asking the obvious, glaring question: "Then why in the world was our appointment scheduled for today?" She just shrugged - after all, she wasn't the one who'd wasted an entire morning getting three kids ready and hauling them to the doctor - and said, "Somebody must not have been paying attention." Well, there you have it. That definitely sets my heart at rest - especially coming from the establishment that I've entrusted with the MEDICAL CARE of my CHILDREN!!

And it's been downhill ever since. Upon arriving home, I attempted to load the dishwasher, but every time I opened it, there was Kari Bou, climbing in or trying to grab a knife or licking a dirty bowl. Then she got a kick out of opening every drawer she could and trying to climb in. Also, Rach and Zekers are going through some kind of nurturing phase, where they love putting their dolls and stuffed animals to bed, covered up with dish cloths and towels from the kitchen. The ones they don't use end up on the floor, along with all the plastic containers and cookware Kari Bou has scattered around. At this point I've thrown up my hands in despair of ever having a house that isn't completely trashed. But at least Kari Bou's escapades made for some cute pictures. Live in the moment, baby.

Heaven Help Us When She Becomes a Teenager

2 MORE Rachel stories:


Last night on the way home from Cubbies, Rachel asked me, "Mom, why can't I be like God?" Of course, thinking I was seizing a "teachable moment," I replied, like anyone would have, "You can become more like God every day by obeying what He tells you to do."

"No, Mom, not THAT." (She's heard this song and dance before.) "When will I be as big and strong as God? "

"Well, Sweetie, you won't ever be as strong as God, because only God can do things like make the sun come up, control the weather, create a little kitten or heal someone who's sick. God can do ANYTHING."

There was silence from the back seat for a few seconds, and then she asked breathlessly, "Can He even make JELL-O?"

_________________________________________


On the way to Cubbies, earlier in the evening, Rachel & I stopped by the Dollar Tree to pick up a few items for the Operation Christmas Child boxes the kids were going to make. She picked out a Backyardigans toothbrush and toothpaste, and a small stuffed dog. We also bought her a little stuffed Ariel that caught her eye. (I know - I have a major weakness for buying her cute things from dollar stores, but hey - it's only $1.00)

As we loaded back into the car, I thought I'd try a little experiment and see how it turned out. "Rachel," I said, "We were just talking today about ways to make Jesus happy. I bet there is a little girl in another country who doesn't have any dolls who would just love to have your Ariel doll." I had this touching picture in my mind of her tearfully parting with her doll for the sake of a poor little girl somewhere, and then me going and getting her another doll and surprising her, to reward her for her kindness.

We had a pretty lengthy discussion about sharing and sacrificing for others. Finally, just when I thought she was coming around to make the selfless decision, she said, "Well, if I give my Ariel doll to a little girl who doesn't have one, I'm going to need another one."

After last night, I decided to take a break from looking for "teachable moments" for a while.

In Other News . . .

Some munchkin highlights:

Rachel has finally achieved her goal of someday being big enough to climb a tree - even if it is just the small lilac "tree" in our back yard near the alley. Don't ask me why, but she loves wedging herself between the branches and pretending to sleep there. She also sits various stuffed animals on different limbs and forgets about them, resulting in devastation when Mommy or Daddy find them after a rainstorm.

She loves going to Cubbies on Wednesday nights and earning Lov E. Lamb and Ern E. Elephant patches by saying Bible verses. What she talks about most, though, is the snack. Every week she saves a little of it in a napkin to take home for her brother . . . so sweet.

Speaking of Bible verses, Zekers has learned his first one, complete with reference. I ask him repeatedly what it is, just because I love hearing him say, "Your Word is troof. Uncle John 17:17." OK, we're still working on the reference.

Zekers is way into dogs, Thomas the Train, and answering in complete sentences. I'm not kidding - we've tried and tried, in vain, to get him to simply answer "yes" or "no" to questions we ask. It can't be done. When I ask, "Would you like to go to bed, Mr. Beef?" his reply is, "No, I would not like to go to bed, Mommy," in this really choppy, gravelly voice. At least, if he keeps it up, he'll have excellent grades in English class someday.

And Kari Bou? She certainly keeps busy emptying drawers and cupboards, trying to eat paper and dirt, and grabbing everything in sight. Her mission: search and destroy the entire house. Several weeks ago, she discovered how to open the door to the church nursery. She's a baby on the move. But it's impossible to get too annoyed with her, since every time I try to reprimand her she flashes a huge, ornery smile or starts to laugh. Usually I end up joining her - she's just so irresistably cute.

That's it for now . Maybe if I write enough of these I can get out of writing a Christmas update letter by refering everyone to my blog. Very tempting.

Mermaids and Monster Mountain

OK, time for another "picture post" - my lame attempt to justify having a digital camera. :-)

Several weeks ago, we took a trip with Grandma Miller to Wegerzyn Metro Park - home of the Scarecrow Convention! We trekked through wooded paths; took in beautiful fall flowers, leaves and fountains; and walked past dozens of . . . well, rather interesting . . . scarecrows. Rachel's favorite was, of course, the Mermaid. Zekers was so delighted by the "Horse and Rider" scarecrow - a knight riding what I guess was supposed to be a horse with 2 heads - that I couldn't even get him to pose for a picture with it. All he wanted to do was stand in front of the monstrosity, gazing up in total awe and admiration.

The highlight for Kari Bou was definitely the outdoor discovery place. She thouroughly enjoyed drenching herself in the cold water - good thing the temp got up to 75 that day! Actually, all three of them were pretty wet by the end of the afternoon. We had to go back to Grandma's so we could hang all the kids' clothing - including Rachel's underwear - on a tree to dry.



We spent Saturday at Brumbaugh's Fruit Farm with friends. We walked through the woods and played in Snow White's cottage, a pirate ship and a castle with a drawbridge; we took rides on a zip-line sort of swing; the dads & kiddos went through a corn maze; we slid down Monster Mountain, a huge tube slide built into a hill; we ate yummy apple fritters and rubbery hot dogs; we petted cats, dogs and goats; and the kids played in mounds of hay and corn, managing to get particles of both on just about every square inch of their bodies. (Why does every "fun" trip we take seem to involve a complete change of clothes afterward?)

The most humorous part of the day was definitely lunch. Danny excitedly ordered a "walking taco," thinking it would be like the ones at the fair. What he got was a very small Fritos bag about half full with Fritos, chili and a few pieces of lettuce and cheese. He came drooping back to the picnic table looking like a sad puppy dog; he'd actually eaten the entire thing on the way over to the table. The only thing that saved him was being able to down 2 large tacos after coming back home.

Good times . . . Some days I wish autumn could last forever . . .

Like Pulling Teeth

I HATE going to the dentist. In fact, I wish there was a stronger word than "hate" so I could use that instead. A trip to the dentist effectively ruins my entire day, if not the remainder of the week.

Let me explain. Rachel was recently due for her second annual dentist visit. She did great, and I was very proud of her. The hygienist counted and cleaned her teeth; the dentist congratulated her on going a year without sucking her thumb (After last year's visit, we came straight home and duct taped mittens onto her hands every night for 2 weeks. It was so sad, but she knew it had to be done. She would even remind us to tape on her mittens if we forgot.); she received a Disney Princess flosser, a new pink toothbrush and a Gloria sticker (from Madagascar). Then it was my turn.

When it comes to physical features, there is nothing I'm more insecure about than my teeth. Which is why I try not to think about them EVER - even when I'm brushing, which I do on occasion. So 30 minutes spent focusing on nothing BUT my teeth adds up to my worst nightmare. The pointy metal instrument they love to use has to be some kind of torture device; it's like dragging a metal fork down a chalkboard, right there inside your mouth. Then there's the cardboard guards they shove halfway down your throat - 4 times - just to get some lousy pictures of you molars. Oh yes, and the best part is the "toothpaste" they use to clean your teeth, and the little dribble of water that never quite gets rid of the grittiness. When you ask for more water, you get another little dribble, then you clamp down on the suction device until your face turns inside out.

Another thing I've noticed: I believe it is the universal goal of dental hygienists to ensure that all patients leave the premises without one shred of self-respect. My hygienist (who was very friendly and chatty, and who I probably would have really liked had we met under ANY other circumstances) asked me whether I floss every day. I said no, and was about to explain that I do floss about twice a week, but I didn't have a chance to get that much out before I was reprimanded for my deplorable lack of dental hygiene. When the dentist came in, I heard her tell him I was "a bad flosser." So there you have it, folks - my new identity: I'm A BAD FLOSSER. The other thing is, they do this to you while your mouth is being pried open and excavated, so you can't even defend yourself. It's cruel and unfair.

For a good 20 minutes, I sat there and listened to words like "decalcification" and "discoloration" and "plaque." Worst of all, I was told my teeth will get darker WITH AGE. I guess it's all downhill for me. I heard these words as through a fog, because suddenly I was back in jr. high, standing naked in a busy hallway (For the record, I never actually did that in jr. high, but I'm pretty sure I dreamed it several times), a glaring spotlight revealing my imperfections to the world. I wanted nothing more than to go home and staple my mouth shut.

My dentist, who is very, very good at what he does, did hold out a faint ray of hope. Next week I get to go back and get fitted for molds for my teeth, so I can try bleaching the darn things. If that doesn't work, maybe I'll apply for "Extreme Makeover."

A Time to Gag

I guess it's that time of year again. Coughing, dripping, puking, and crying have become the soggy cadence that fills each dragging day. Our house is a veritable snot factory.

It's hard not to dwell on the miseries in this House Where Time Stands Still. Missed social events and church activities. The fact that we're held hostage in our own home. Night after night of crying / coughing munchkins waking every couple of hours.

The fact is, there's an upside to having sick kids. Some much-needed down time. Not worrying about little things like getting dressed or fixing my hair. Longer naps (for the kids). And best of all - lots and lots of snuggle time. I look ahead to days when I will think to myself that I would give anything to have a warm heavy head resting on my chest and arms full of sweet drowsiness.

All the same, I'll be thankful when they're well again. . .

Also Overheard on Christian Radio

My friend Jer listed a few several weeks ago on his blog. Here's a couple more I couldn't resist putting up!

I heard the first one yesterday while fixing dinner:

"The phone lines are open - please call now with your pledge! Listen, folks: Satan doesn't want this radio station to exist. He doesn't want us to even be here. In fact, Satan wants us to . . . . not . . . be here."


This one dates all the way back to Valentine's Day, but I laughed so hard I still remember every word:

"OK, our lucky caller number 5 will receive this silk rose and a wonderful book on romancing your wife. Caller number 5 . . . "

Music plays for about 4 minutes

"Alright, men, you still have a chance to win this great prize. Pick up the phone now and dial ________"

Music plays for 4 more minutes

"We're still waiting for that fifth caller . . . . caller number 5 . . . "

Unfulfilled Longings

God recently confronted me with a truth, and it's been on my mind all week . . .

It's from the book Lies Women Believe, by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. The author tackles 40 different deceptions used by Satan to keep us from a thriving relationship with Christ, and then counters these lies with truth from God's Word. Lie #12 goes something like this:

I should not have to live with unfulfilled longings.

I hadn't realized how much this idea has made its way into my thinking. When I pray, often it's with the attitude that God owes me all my heart's desires . . . that if I ask Him often enough and with the right amount of faith, He will certainly give me what I so earnestly request. Doesn't He want me to be happy?

DeMoss points out, referring to Rom. 8:23, that we will always have unfulfilled longings this side of heaven, and that . . . we must learn to be content with unfulfilled longings. *groan* There's the C-word again.

God has made us in such a way that we can never be truly satisfied with anything or anyone less than Himself (Ps. 16:11, 34:8-10).

The bottom line is, in spite of my self-proclaimed expertise, I don't know what's best for me, or for anyone else. God does, though, and He uses my unfulfilled longings to refine me and deepen my longing for a future life with Him. He uses them to drive me to HIMSELF, the only oasis and true satisfaction.

I Hope Karis Can Forgive Us Someday

I've had to laugh lately as I've begun to notice a progression in parenting practices from the first child to the third. The following may be a bit stereotypical and/or exaggerated, but most of these are taken from my own experience, having begun raising three kids and being a firstborn child myself . . .

Child #1 - Dropped binky is thouroughly washed off and sterilized - several times.
Child #2 - Dropped binky is rinsed off and put back into mouth
Child #3 - Dropped binky is put back into mouth after large dirt particles may or may not have been flicked off

Child #1 - Swooped up at the first whimper
Child #2 - Picked up after crying for several minutes
Child #3 - "There's a baby crying?"

Child #1 - Free-range meat, organic tofu burgers, made-from-scratch whole-grain cereal, a truckload of fruits and veggies
Child #2 - Turkey dogs, some fruits and veggies (mostly banana), all-natural cereal bars
Child #3 - Anything edible that isn't too far expired

Child #1 - Baby book meticulously filled out through the first five years
Child #2 - Baby book sporadically filled out through the first year
Child #3 - Should we have gotten a baby book?

Child #1 - Picture taken each month, on the same day, at the same time, in the same pose
Child #2 - Picture taken 8 out of the first 12 months
Child #3 - All 4 pictures taken during the first year are on an older sibling's camera

Child #1 - Rigorously and consistently disciplined for every infraction
Child #2 - Able to manipulate way out of some punishments
Child #3 - Gets away with murder

Child #1 - Brand new: Gap, Old Navy, Gymboree
Child #2 - Used: Gap, Old Navy, Gymboree
Child #3 - Garage sale leftovers

Child #1 - Naptime at exactly 9:30am, 1:00pm daily
Child #2 - Naptime sometime in the morning and another sometime in the afternoon on most days
Child #3 - Brief snatches of a nap in the car while running errands

Child #1 - Read to at least 20 minutes a day
Child #2 - Read to when Child #1 wants to be read to
Child #3 - Occasionally overhears book being read to Child #1 & #2

Child #1 - We have all the answers
Child #2 - We have some of the answers
Child #3 - We don't even know the right questions to ask!



I can't think of any more at the moment. But I know what you're thinking right now is, it's a good thing we only have THREE . . .

Wrighteous Living

This week has flown by. There's way too much to write about, so I'll just leave it at a few highlights, starting with last weekend.

Here's to . . .

. . . a wonderful evening with new friends. At 6:00 we were practically strangers, and 6 hours later it seemed like we'd known each other for years.

. . . Cubbies! Rachel is in her second year and absolutely loves it. Last week she brought home a work of art she called "fireworks": a blob of glue on a piece of black paper, covered with gold glitter.

. . . Applesauce. Applesauce. Applesauce. My goal is to freeze enough for our family for an entire year, since the kids won't eat anything but the stuff I make (I use Cortland apples, so it always turns out bright pink!). I'm about halfway there . . .

. . . dinner at El Camino with a good friend - a rare treat!

. . . scrapbook parties where very little scrapbooking actually takes place. :-)

. . . 2 strollers, 3 hours, 4 miles, 200 doorhangers, 1 church plant launching next Sunday!

. . . date nights with free babysitting! We had dinner at Applebee's while Jason & Jodi got puked on by Zekers.

. . . a fridge so full of leftovers from the previous week that I went 5 days without having to fix dinner. You can't beat that!

. . . having a 4-yr-old shopping buddy who has turned out to be a surprising conversationalist.

. . . discovering that Danny & I are never immune to "The Crazy Cycle" (see Love and Respect by Emerson Eggerichs) - a humbling realization.

. . . not taking one picture for over a week - the first time this has happened in about 5 years.

Better With Age

Well, here I am - up to my eyeballs in laundry and the house is trashed from top to bottom. In a rare moment of reckless abandon, I'm indulging in something I love - writing - while throwing Everything Else to the wind. What a rush. (I know, I need to get out more)

I've been thinking quite a bit lately about aging. Maybe it's because of the silver-gray hair I occasionally pluck from my head. Or maybe it's the tiny crow's feet that have begun to accompany every smile. The fact is, no matter how young I look or feel, I am slowly, steadily growing older, as is every other human being on earth. And I'm not quite sure how I feel about this.

On the one hand, I'm in the prime of my life: old enough to be taken (somewhat) seriously, but not yet considered "old" - by most. On the other hand, I was 20 about one minute ago, and now, in just 8 short years, I will be 40! God has allowed me to experience so much already: college life, cross-country travels, 3 months overseas, having sex (Don't even pretend you've never prayed for Christ's return to be delayed until you got to experience that!), being married, giving birth, parenting. I don't think I dread dying as much as I dread growing old.

Why is that????

Perhaps it's because youth is so celebrated in our society and I'm terrified that the time is fast-approaching when I will be considered outdated and irrelevant. Or perhaps it's my own lack of preparedness. Every birthday kind of "sneaks up" on me and I'm rarely at a point where I feel ready to be that age.

What if - and this is purely conjecture - what if I began now to think about the kind of person I desire to be at age 50? What if I embraced the thought of growing older, because with age comes wisdom, maturity (hopefully!), the opportunity to invest in younger women, and a more intimate walk with my Savior? What if I give less attention to things that truly don't matter in the long run, and focus more on what's eternal?

I wish I had thought about this at age 20. I wish that, in addition to planning out how my imaginary wedding would play out and what kind of family I wanted to have and the career I would be pursuing, I had also planned toward the kind of person I would be - regardless of how my circumstances unfolded.

Not that I'm looking forward to the litany of health issues that often plagues the elderly, or the gradual deterioration of my physical body. But I do look with anticipation toward becoming wiser and more like Christ - and that much closer to going home. "Wisdom is with aged men, With long life is understanding" (Job 12:12). What I wouldn't give sometimes for a little more understanding!

I read about Sarah, Anna and Timothy's grandmother in Scripture - how God used them in their old age. And I think about the older people who have had a much greater influence on my life than they will ever know: people who have prayed and encouraged me and offered godly wisdom through tumultuous times of my life. The fact is, I wouldn't have made it this far without the counsel of those older, and far wiser, than myself.

I hope this doesn't sound too morbid. I guess what I'm saying is that instead of fighting or denying the aging process, I want to run the WHOLE race so as to bring glory to God - whether I'm 32 or 62. And I want to start thinking about the kind of person, the kind of disciple, I want to be when I reach middle age and then the "sunset years."

Say What?

2 random happenings from the past couple of weeks . . .

We were in Wal-Mart (our second home) several days ago, waiting outside the restroom for Rachel. Zekers patiently sat in the blue toddler seat attached to the cart, and Kari Bou very impatiently squirmed in the "basket" portion of the cart for smaller children. A kind-looking older woman came out of the restroom, saw us, and smiling broadly, came over to chat for a minute.

I've found that whenever you venture out in public with three kids ages 4 & under, you get lots of comments - everything from nice ("Oh, aren't they adorable?") to sympathetic ("You certainly have your hands full!") to downright rude ("There are ways to prevent that, you know.") This woman seemed like the nice type.

"What a big, strapping boy you have there!" She exclaimed. "My, he looks strong."

I started to smile and respond, when I realized she wasn't looking at my son, but at my DAUGHTER. Now, Karis had her one-year checkup several weeks ago and weighed in at a whopping 19.5 lbs - enough to put her in the 25th percentile for weight. She's in the 85th percentile for height, however, which makes her seem even thinner. She has very little hair and was wearing a brown shirt that day, so I could sort of understand the mistake, but come on - Zekers was sitting right there and is bigger and broader in every way! The last thing any mother wants to hear is how masculine her sweet, delicate little girl looks.

I was about to explain that Karis was, in fact, a girl, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. "My, you're going to make a fine football player someday - probably a linebacker!" She continued. At this point I simply smiled politely and prayed fervently that Rach would come out of the bathroom.

And when she did come out (of the girls' restroom), what was this nice lady's comment? "Where in the world does he get his beautiful curly hair?" I must confess, I grabbed the cart and bolted, afraid that in five more minutes she'd have discovered Zekers and turned him into a ballerina.

Later in the week, we were again out running errands - this time waiting at a red light. Rach & Zekers like to talk to each other and to me while we're driving, so often when I'm sitting at a light I'll turn around so I can see them. On this particular occasion, they looked so adorable sitting there like three little ducks in a row, that I couldn't help exclaiming, apparently very loudly, "You guys are SO cute!"

Almost at the same moment, I glanced to the side, and saw that right next to us sat a red pickup truck with 2 young-ish men in the front seat. The weather being somewhat warm, we both had our windows open. I have never seen two heads snap so fast to look in my direction. And I won't soon forget the expression on their faces - a mixture of surprise and delight. At once, it ocurred to me that our windows are all tinted, and the back seat windows were, in fact, closed. There was absolutely no evidence to indicate I had been talking to anyone other than them! After making matters worse by inadvertently saying, "Aw, crap", the only other option that came into my head was to turn around and speak to the kids very loudly, making it obvious I had been talking to children in the back seat. I have never experienced such a torturously long wait at a red light.

I've decided from now on I'm having my groceries delivered.

Fun Times on the Ferris Wheel

Going through some old pix the other day, and sorting through some newer ones, I came across these two gems and realized I just can't keep this to myself. It's almost spooky.


Fair 2005


Fair 2006


I guess we can look at this as A) an annual waste of $4 or B) a new annual tradition. Personally, I vote for C) All of the above.

When Contentment Isn't Good

Our church has begun an in-depth study of the book of Joshua. A discussion during life group on Tuesday and some of the reading for next week brought out an interesting concept from the first chapter of the book that has really stayed with me.

The Bible teaches that contentment equals much greater gain than earthly possessions. Satisfaction in Christ is key in the Christian life. However, there is one thing I should never be satisfied with, and that is - ME.

I'm not talking about my looks or personality or gifts & abilities. I'm thinking more of my relationship with Christ. I should be in a continual process of refinement, pressing on to look more like my Savior until the day I enter eternal rest with Him. He Himself says, "Be perfect, even as your Heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt. 5:48). Paul speaks of "pressing on toward the goal" in Philippians 3:14. To use his analogy, a good runner is not content to complete part of the race and then take a nap on the track. She stays focused on the finish line until she crosses it. Therefore I must spend the rest of my life in pursuit of this goal - becoming more like Christ, and storing up eternal rewards vs. earthly ones.

"Godliness with contentment is great gain" (I Tim. 6:6), but contentment with where I am spiritually quickly becomes complacency.

Pearly Whites

Rachel had her second annual trip to the dentist on Thursday, and I'm proud to say, she did great!

Melody, the dental hygienist, had a way of putting her right at ease while she counted and cleaned her teeth, and Dr. Fourman congratulated her on no longer sucking her thumb. (After last year's appointment, we came straight home and duct taped mittens to both her hands every night for 2 weeks. It was so sad, but she knew it had to be done. She even reminded us to get the mittens on nights we forgot.) Then she received a "Disney Princess" flosser and a new pink toothbrush - and a sticker of Gloria the hippo from Madagascar. Does it get any better than that?

I, on the other hand, didn't fare quite so well. No princess flosser or sticker for me. But I do get to go back for another appointment next week!

Little Bou

It didn't hit me until a couple of months ago - I unwittingly named my darling baby girl after my husband's fantasy basketball team! Aaaagggghhhh!

Karis' name was agreed upon about one week prior to her birth. We knew she was going to be a boy - everyone thought so - because of the way I carried her (see pregnancy myth #458): super low, out front, and I was HUGE. But, just for fun, we thought maybe we should have a girl's name handy. Enter "Karis Hope."

After the dozens of nicknames we came up with for Rach & Zekers, Karis' list has been pretty short. She started out as "Baby Love" and slowly became "Kari Bou" (with variations such as "Baby Bou", and "Little Bou Bou"). In vain, I attempted to change the nickname to "Kari Lou." No dice. She simply IS Kari Bou.

FYI, Danny's team is the Carson City Caribou, so he's always been after me to name a boy "Carson" and a girl "Cari", with a middle name of "Bou." I, of course, said what any loving wife would say: "Over my dead body." And here we are. Things have degenerated to the point that I can't think of her as anything else.

While we're on the topic: my little Bou turned one year old last Tuesday; we had her party on Saturday. I feel I must mention it was the ONE day all week that was actually cold, windy and rained most of the afternoon and evening. We did manage to hang out and open gifts before it really started coming down, although she was forced to finish mauling her cake indoors. In spite of the schitzophrenic weather and realizing at the last minute that we had about 20 less lawn chairs than we needed, it was a fun day with family and friends.

In honor of Karis being out in the open for one year, I thought I'd jot down several adjectives that describe her most accurately. Here we go:

Determined - When she decides she wants to do something, watch out! She WILL figure out how to do it.

Hungry - Have you ever seen this kid eat? At times she out-eats both her older siblings. And there's nothing she won't try, including sand, dirt, and wood chips (with the exception of certain vegetables, of course). There's no other way to say it - she's a pig.

Stinky - She can also poop like nobody's business. The last three days in a row, she's gone to pooping after breakfast, waiting for me to change her, and then going for round two almost immediately.

Fun - She's one of the happiest (usually) babies I've ever been around. It's way too easy to get a belly laugh from her; in fact, sometimes she comes up to one of us and just starts laughing because she knows it will make us laugh. She's full of personality and life; if anyone in the house is having fun, she has to plop herself right down in the middle of it. What a clown.

Cute - see pictures

Tough - She's had no choice but to learn to fight back . . .

Accident-prone - Goes with #1, I guess. She walks around with more bruises and cuts even than Zekers used to. Yesterday she somehow managed to fall face-forward while in her high chair, bringing the entire chair down on top of herself. That one resulted in a pretty good shiner. The child simply refuses to sit still.

Sweet - Just spend five minutes with her, and you'll see what I mean.

Loud - Ditto

Mamma's Girl - In my opinion, this is by far her best quality. I love that she likes to lay her head on my shoulder and that she wants to snuggle after every "injury" and that her first word was "Mama." She loves her Daddy too, of course, and has a special smile she reserves just for him.

Happy Birthday, Kari Bou! I love you!

The Latest Craziness

Rachel is currently trying to talk me into letting her have a "bath party" - an event which would involve all her friends coming over and taking one big bath together, apparently for an extended period of time.

Danny & I were actually thinking that this would be an excellent "ice-breaker" for our life group.

Celebrating 150 Years of Swine

And rabbits. And goats. And greasy, overpriced food. And outrageously expensive rides. And annoyingly long lines. And teeth-rattling, ear-shattering tractor pulls. And dust-covered strollers. And dust-covered children. And our neighborhood turning into a giant parking lot. And not being able to walk 10 yards at a time without running into someone you know, because everyone who lives within a 100-mile radius is there.

In spite of, or - dare I say it? - perhaps because of, all these things, THE GREAT FAIR in this county is the highlight of our summer! We actually went six out of the nine days it ran. What a blast - the kids are at the age where everything they saw delighted their little eyes, ears and mouths. They ate corn dogs, a new favorite (which, unfortunately, they'll have to wait a year to eat again). They petted cows, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits and dogs. They got colored helium balloons from the Republican and Democratic tents (We're raising non-partisan kids, apparently). They went on "The Hurricane" with Mommy & Daddy (yes, it's every bit as bad as it sounds, and actually made Daddy sick). They watched a goat-showing. But THE most memorable part of their fairgoing experience: they rode the now-infamous "Dragon Wagon" roller coaster.

The first time Zekers rode the Dragon Wagon, he had a look of absolute terror on his face, and Rachel clung to the bar for dear life. By the last day, Zekers was laughing through the entire ride, while Rachel stuck her hands into the air the moment she was strapped in and left them there for the duration of the ride, yelling for everyone else to do the same.

And where was Karis all this time? Let's just say that when she hears the word "home" she goes straight for the stroller! Haha. She actually did very well. Now I'm trying to figure out how to hold her off for a few more years so that next year I don't have to buy three ride bracelets.

So, farewell to THE GREAT FAIR. It was expensive, greasy, dirty and loud. And, come next August, I will once again count the days until it reopens.

The Meaning of Family

I just had to share this with whoever in the blogosphere cares to read it, because it's too funny to keep to myself.

Rachel has been using the potty for nearly 2 years. She does everything herself, including washing/drying her hands and flushing. But the one thing we're still working on is getting her to do her own "paperwork" after doing her business. She's finally gotten to the point where she will wipe herself after a "baby poopie" so I started thinking the end is in sight. Until this afternoon.

I came upstairs from doing some laundry, and heard Rach yelling for me from the bathroom. She was sitting on the toilet, asking me to wipe her. "Sweetie," I said calmly, "You know how to do that yourself now."

She looked up at me in frustration. "Mom, you know I can wipe myself after a baby poopie, but look - there's a whole family in there!"

Murphy's Law at its Finest

Why is it that when you're in a hurry, you encounter nothing but red traffic lights; and when you desperately need a red traffic light, every last one of them is green??

I was just out running some errands with the kids when Karis let out 2 sneezes in a row. I glanced back at her and saw that she had hard core snot shooting out of BOTH nostrils (I know that sounds disgusting, but there's really no other way to say it). Naturally, I was dying to bring the car to a screeching halt and immediately clean her up, but do you think that the entire way from our house to Walmart we encountered even ONE red light? Normally, I spend at least five minutes sitting at the stinkin' things, but not today! I finally pulled into the YMCA parking lot, but by that time, of course, she had effectively covered her entire face with slime, and even slicked some into her "hair".

We got it all cleaned up, of course, but I'm still bitter about the lights.

My Name is Zekers

Today is a day to celebrate!

Around April we noticed Zekers was getting lazy in his speech. "Please" became "plz" and "Zekers" became "Zkers"; basically, he wasn't pronouncing certain vowels. Several weeks later, it became apparent that some major regression had taken place. He spoke almost entirely through his nose and most of it sounded like jibberish. Even Rachel, his expert translator, couldn't understand him. (Of course, rather than admit defeat, she invented all kinds of interesting phrases, claiming that was what he meant to say.) His speech continued to worsen and was so bad during July that friends and family began really noticing the change and wondering what was going on.

We used to laugh at him because when he began talking at 18 months, it was always in complete sentences, and always with perfect enunciation. It was comical watching him try so hard to say every word clearly. Now, he'd cry, mumbling incoherently, so that we couldn't understand what it was that he needed.

I thought, it must be something simple like water in his ears or some kind of health issue impairing his hearing. A trip to the pediatrician, however, only revealed that we had a little boy in great health, with above average hearing, who couldn't talk anymore. The doctor himself was baffled, and referred us to a spech therapist at Children's. The appointment was scheduled for August 23.

I tried not to worry, but this nagging doubt kept tugging at my mind. What if something's wrong with him? What if this is irreparable? My dad suggested that maybe it was psychological - some kind of family dynamic thing. This really upset me, because it made sense. But it also made me feel incredibly guilty. Zekers has been the "neglected one" of the family. He's so low-maintainance: he entertains himself and doesn't demand a whole lot of attetion, unlike his sisters. Sometimes I realize he's still at the breakfast table, just sitting there talking to himself, when the rest of us have been in the living room playing for 30 minutes!

Anyway, all these fears were going through my head - making me think I'd somehow damaged him for life. And then yesterday he started talking.

We were out running errands and he told me he wanted something. I told him he needed to say please, and he said it. I grabbed his shoulders and almost screamed, WHAT DID YOU SAY?! And he said it again, clear as a bell. For the next five minutes, all the poor kid did was answer a litany of questions fired at him by his hysterical mother. What is your name?(Zekers) What comes after 2? (threeee) What does a cow say? (Moooooo) I couldn't believe it! I even called Danny and had Zekers say his name over the phone so Daddy could hear. His speech had been slowly improving for a couple of weeks, but this was the first time he'd pronounced some of these words clearly in months.

I guess the good thing that's come from all this has been a heightened awareness that my son needs my attention even though he doesn't demand it in obvious ways. We've made such a big deal over Karis, especially during the spring and summer when she's been hurdling so many major milestones like crawling and walking, that sometimes our sweet little Zekers goes unnoticed. I've been making sure to give him extra hugs, and snuggle with him a little longer at bedtime and sing to him more.

And now that his speech has pretty much cleared itself up, I can turn all my energy to fretting over the fact that he's still not potty trained!

Entitled

I've been thinking about myself a lot lately - in more ways than one!

Amid all the egocentric self-serving thoughts continually swirling about in my cranium, an occasional moment of true introspection peaks through - a painful but necessary moment in which Christ Jesus extends to me a glimpse of my own heart. Any more would be unbearable, for this one glimpse reveals just how far I am from His perfection - the standard I should be striving, by His grace, to attain.

Allow me to explain (confess). As far back as I can remember, I have struggled with contentment; many sins I have wrestled with and continue to wrestle with, I have recently discovered, spring from this core issue. I was actually beginning to think I had finally arrived with this one: I love my family and friends and am truly grateful for all that God has chosen to entrust to us. I don't lie awake nights wishing we lived in a mansion or owned a llama or had our own helicopter. So I can finally shelve that prayer request, right? Dream on . . .

Danny & I have had the privilege of facilitating a group study on the book, "Love and Respect" (which I plan to review in a few weeks) on Sunday nights. Last Sunday, the 2nd week of the study, we asked each couple to bring a wedding picture and share about their wedding or honeymoon. I couldn't believe it - out of 7 couples, we were the only ones who had a honeymoon consisting of more than one or two nights! Several couples had no honeymoon at all.

You're wondering if there's a point to all this. The point is, I haven't been able to stop thinking about the whole honeymoon thing all week. To be honest, I took ours for granted. I would have felt robbed had we NOT spent over a week in another state following our wedding.

And it's been dawning on me slowly this week how many other things in our lives I just expect God to provide, with no basis for this expectation. Instead of thanking Him profusely for allowing us to create a third bedroom in our house just before Karis was conceived, I groan and complain because our 3 bedrooms are smaller than I'd like them to be. I go around with the attitude that God owes us 2 working vehicles with ample trunk space; He owes us an abundance of food and clothing; and of course He's allowed us to purchase furniture and get away for a week to Wisconsin this summer - don't we deserve it, after all?

The bottom line is, I have an attitude of entitlement. The apostle Paul says, "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well-fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." Whoa! Is it actually possible to be content even while lacking food, one of the most basic human essentials? And Paul's idea of living "in want" is undoubtedly much different than my own. The man lived much of his adult life out of a suitcase (or whatever the 1st century version of a suitcase would be), and that was on a good day!

God owes me nothing but eternal damnation; praise His holy name He's given me the promise of eternal life! Instead of living my life feeling entitled to all that He's graciously provided, I should be living in a mindset of continuous praise for His many gifts - and I'm not talking just material things. He's given us health, and family, and friends, and a wonderful church body, and the list goes on. . .

It's pretty easy to sit here and write all this out, and pretty difficult to live it every day. I will probably be fighting this attitude of entitlement until the day I die. But I want to keep fighting it. Maybe if I do, someday down the road, as Danny preached yesterday, I may look a little more like Christ. That's definitely worth the effort.

Curly Dimpled Lunatic

With Danny back home after a week in California for Brethren National Youth Conference, our church's week of VBS now behind us, and summer travels at an end, life is finally beginning to resemble something "normal" (whatever that means). But how we've changed over the course of just 2 months! Zeke has thinned out and grown taller; his hair has turned white-blonde from days in the sun. Karis has undergone the most obvious transformation - our helpless infant has become an independent toddler almost overnight.

But it is Rachel who has changed the most significantly over the summer. As I replaced last year's picture of Rachel with her current one, I was struck by how fast she's growing up. She looks so much older than she did a year ago - but it's more than just her looks. Every aspect of her little person has gone from chubby toddlerhood to bright, energetic preschooler. It makes me sad to think about, but also grateful that God is allowing me to guide, develop and love her in these early years. So, I'm dedicating this post to Rachel, our almost-4-year-old.

Ralph Waldo Emerson defines child as "a curly dimpled lunatic." There couldn't be a better description of my firstborn daughter! I mean, what can you expect from someone who begs to watch "The 101 Salvations", who thanked God for paper towels one night at dinner, and who cried inconsolably when I shared with her tonight that even though her party was Saturday, she's not going to be 4 for another 2 weeks? I admit it - I lied just to make her stop crying, which she did the moment I told her I was only kidding and she really is 4.

Since we're on the topic . . . Rachel had her very first "friend birthday party" over the weekend, with her friend, Alia. Since their birthdays are a month apart, Alia's mom, Erin, and I decided to combine forces and have a big princess party (the girls insisted on this theme) on August 5th - 2 weeks after Alia's birthday and 3 weeks before Rachel's. Rachel has been anticipating this party, by the way, since January.

It was fabulous. Each little princess, in full regalia, was announced, had her picture taken, and got to walk the red carpet, across the deck and out into the yard. They sifted for jewels and precious stones in boxes of sand, they searched for Cinderella's lost slipper, they played on the swingset and the "inflatable bouncy thing", as we've come to call it, in the yard. Erin read "The Princess and the Kiss" to them, the two birthday princesses opened gifts and we ended the whole shabang with fairy castle cake and ice cream. I was rather proud of the cake, which looked oh so simple but took over four hours to make. There were 11 princesses at the party, and 2 fully outfitted queens - one of whom was 8 months pregnant (not me!). I did feel a little sorry for poor Zekers, who, consumed by jealousy, begged to be dressed as a princess like his sister. We've simply got to get that kid a cowboy outfit or something.

In June I signed Rachel up for summer ballet classes. She goes every Tuesday and Thursday for 10 half-hour sessions. I tell you what - she's about 10 kinds of cute in her little leotard and skirt, practicing her "first potition" and "releve" with the other 6 or 7 girls in the class. Although she matter-of-factly shared with her dance instructor last week that she wasn't "in the mood" to dance, she usually does pretty well and even asked Miss Barbara today for an extra sucker to take home to her brother. What a sweetheart.

Also for the first time, Rachel has attended 2 Vacation Bible Schools - one at Camp Forest Springs in July, and the other at our church last week. Ours had a "reaching the nations" theme, highlighting Brazil, the Dominican Republic, South Africa, India and the USA. As a part of the team that put together the USA night, I had the privilege of dressing as a fashion-challenged frontier-woman. Rach did look adorable in her cowgirl outfit - if only the bottom half would have stayed up. Apparenly her jeans AND underwear were a mite large on her, as her group leader told me afterward that she mooned all 150 VBS-ers during the teaching time.

There are so many things I pray she never loses. Her belly laugh. Her impy smile. Her spiritual sensitivity. Her compassion for those in need. Her generosity with kisses, hugs and affection in general. Her crazy curly hair. Her love for asking questions (although I wouldn't mind if that one diminished a little). It's been an amazing four years, and I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to the next four!

Sneak Peek

With 2 birthdays coming up, we made the trek to Sears for portraits on Friday. (Karis turns 1 August 29 and Rach turns 4 August 24.) If you want to view some of their poses, just

go here.

Just enter my email (charity@greenvillegrace.org) and the password "karishope" to get in.

Are they the cutest or what??

Book Review: Counted Righteous in Christ

The Reason Behind the Reading

I should probably begin by explaining why in the world I would ever attempt to slog through a book like this. If you think I am a little nutty by the end of this review, you are probably not too far off base!

For the past six weeks or more, God has been urging - no, compelling - me to go back to the cross. My relationship with Him has been at a real low point, due mostly to my lack of discipline in making time with Him my first priority. I kept demanding, "God, help me grow! I want to know you so much more deeply than I do right now." I'm not kidding, every time I asked, these words repeated themselves in my head: "If you want to know Me, go to the cross."

I decided to dive in. I read every gospel account of the crucifixion and many related verses. I actually borrowed "The Passion of the Christ" from the library and forced myself to watch every bit of it. (It was even more horrifying than I had imagined.) I asked Danny to bring home books from his library that had anything to do with this topic.

Of the books he chose, this one stood out for some reason: Counted Righteous in Christ by John Piper. I began reading.

If you have ever read a book by this author, you will understand when I say, I got about 2 chapters into it and gave up. Following his logic requires absolute concentration and a fully rested, lucid mind. My life being the way it is right now, I was 0 for 2. Not to mention that Piper's footnotes constitute another book in themselves (one chapter contained over 60 footnotes, the majority of which must be read for a full understanding of the material contained in the chapter). I believe if these notes were printed in the same font as the main text of the book, it would have been twice its current length.

For some reason (God's prompting, perhaps?) I threw this book in with several others "just in case" I needed something to read on our trip. As it turned out, I read from it nearly every day. Yes, it took me about 7 days to read a 125-page book. I considered it a HUGE success to get through 10-15 pages in a sitting and actually understand them. But once I gave Piper a chance, I found what he had to say riveting, which kept me coming back for more.

So here goes (deep breath) . . .


The Review

Piper writes this "short" book in response to the contemporary challenge to the doctrine of the imputation of Christ's righteousness. This doctrine states that "Christ has become our substitute in two senses: in His suffering and death He becomes our curse and condemnation. And in His suffering and life He becomes our perfection" (p. 41). Basically, God counts us as righteous through faith based on Christ's perfect obedience in both His life and His death.

He addresses four of the "revisions" made to traditional teachings on justification, which are as follows:

1. Instead of faith being the catalyst of Christ's imputed righteousness, faith itself IS our righteousness (based on Rom. 4:2-6).

2. Justification involves only the imputation of our sin to Christ; NOT the imputation of His divine righteousness to us.

3. Justification has to do with "liberation from sin's mastery." In other words, justification includes sanctification, or the process of becoming more Christlike.

4. The doctrine of Christ's righteousness being imputed to believing sinners needs to be abandoned as unbiblical.

Piper's exegetical response to these challenges blew me away. He delves into several key passages in Romans, Philippians, and 1 & 2 Corinthians (He camps out for quite a while in Romans 5), carefully laying out the original Greek meanings of numerous words and phrases Paul uses. Then he goes much deeper by looking at Paul's conceptual framework and flow of thought in order to penetrate to the reality behind the words. Amazing. Reading Piper is like reading a mathematical equation (granted, a very complex one!).

He makes a very solid and biblical case (in my opinion) for the traditional view of justification:

1) That the righteousness imputed to us is external and not our faith. "Paul's conceptual framework for imputation . . . would not be God's crediting something we have to be righteousness, but God's crediting a righteousness we don't have to be ours by grace through faith" (p. 57).

2) That the external righteousness credited to us is God's.

3) That justification does not equal liberation from sin's mastery. "Our union with Christ in His death for us secures our justification, which then leads, as a result, to our moral transformation" (p. 80).

4) That the divine righteousness imputed to believers is the righteousness of Christ. He draws parallels between the imputation of Adam's sin and Christ's righteousness based primarily on Romans 5:12-19. He also shows that Christ's "one act of righteousness" involves both His life and His death.

Why does any of this matter?

Far from "splitting hairs" as I thought when I began reading the first time, the arguments presented are of utmost importance in that the doctrine of imputation, as traditionally (and biblically) understood, "bestows on Jesus Christ the fullest honor He deserves" (p. 125). Simply put, the proposed revisions sell short the redeeming work of Christ! Understanding this doctrine profoundly impacts every aspect of life, from marriage to parenting to providing biblical counsel to evangelization and corporate worship.

Reading this book is work! There is no coasting through it or skimming its pages, if you desire a full understanding of its content. I have probably read the entire thing about three times, if you count the paragraphs and sentences I had to reread several times over to even begin to follow. But it was well worth the effort. Like never before, I have been impressed with the full weight of Christ's work on my behalf - both in life and death. This truth is overwhelming and humbling. I have been motivated to searth the Scripture for myself, to really examine the truth it contains.

In spite of all this, I will most likely not attempt to read another book of this nature until our next vacation! My brain is about as fried as it was after taking the SAT.

Camp Forest Springs

There is no other way to say it: the past couple of weeks have unquestionably been a gift from God.

We left on July 7 in a rented blue minivan, much to Rachel's disap-pointment (she thought the van would be pink). We spent that night (Fri.) in Shaumburg, a suburb of Chicago, where we indulged in (what else?) Chicago-style pizza at a place called Lou Mulnati's (When the hotel personnel described it to us, it sounded like they were saying "Illuminati's"), and went paddle-boating at a nearby park. We arrived in Westboro, Wisconsin, Saturday evening, and drove into the camp. Danny had agreed to be the speaker for their jr. high week (grades 7-9).

Camp Forest Springs is amazing. It is incredibly well-run and upbeat, but what stood out most to me was that fact that spiritual matters are THE major focus, even with everything else they have to offer - boating, swimming, a mini-farm, a challenge course, hiking trails, river trips, air rifles, archery, and wacky games. No camper leaves at the end of the week without having heard the gospel repeatedly via sessions and interaction with their counselor.

Back to our "vacation." We stayed in an air-conditioned one-bedroom apartment for the week. It actually worked out great, although I must confess that at the start I had visions of us all wanting to kill each other by the end of the week. There was a pack-n-play for Karis, a mattress which Zekers claimed the minute he laid eyes on it, and Rachel got to sleep in the "special secret room" (otherwise known as the closet), on a couple of sleeping bags.

We ate all our meals in the cafeteria with 300 other campers, staff and volunteers. The best part? NO COOKING FOR ME!! Now that's what I call a vacation. It was also a treat to get to spend time with Matt & Tarah and their family. Tarah & I attended the same HS and all four of us were at Grace together. Rachel had a blast with their daughter Anna, while Karis and Leah pretty much sat on the beach sucking their binkies and getting sand all over themselves.

I cannot even begin to describe to you the soul-cleansing beauty of this place. All week it was nothing but blue skies, green trees, fluffy white clouds, and sunshine. Several times I was able to get away for a little while and walk along wooded paths, revelling in the solitude, and wishing like anything that I'd remembered to douse myself in bug spray before I left.

The kids all seemed to get so much bigger on the trip. Karis began walking - really walking, chubby legs stomping and arms waving. She was incredibly impressed with herself, judging by her squeals of delight.

Rachel officially became a "big girl" when she went off to VBS - put on by a church in the community - with Renate, a Brazilian woman who she had never met but who became one of her best friends by week's end. Each day at lunch she educated us about the stars & planets, and showed us the little craft she had constructed. She also got to take part in the ultimate special activity - going to night sessions with Daddy, while the younger two went to bed. I wondered at first if she'd be able to hold in the chatter while he spoke, but she did beautifully (mostly because she ate snacks the entire time!).

As for Zekers . . . his big thing for the week was coming up with the phrase "I said muffin" when he was about to get into trouble. The randomness of it just sent me into hysterics every time; which, unfortunately, only encouraged his antics. He did learn a few things about handling animals when we visited the minifarm, and was very proud of himself for his newly-developed nurturing abilities, although my heart goes out to the hapless little chicken pictured above.

My original plan was to teach myself to knit on the trip - hahahaha. I actually thought I was going to make everyone I knew a scarf for Christmas on the way there and back, and during down time at the apartment. After several futile attemps, I gave up, without much of a fight, really. So, most of my time after the kids had gone to bed was instead spent playing guitar and reading a book by John Piper (not simultaneously), which I plan to review in my next post. The day after we got back, I returned all the knitting supplies to Walmart. I need another hobby like I need a hole in the head.

Danny had the double privilege of spending relaxing time with the fam, and impacting the lives of 200 jr. high students. He thouroughly enjoyed speaking, and having some quiet time each morning at the ministry center to prepare/email/blog. Many of the counselors commented to him that the messages sparked amazingly deep conversations between them and the campers. It was also wonderful for him to get to spend rare one-on-one time with each of the kiddos.

We left Saturday morning, again spent the night near Chicago, and again stuffed ourselves with Chicago-style pizza (at Lou Moulnati's). The kids were angels the whole way back. It was the perfect trip: we loved getting away, and we loved coming back home at the end of it.

New Additions

We arrived back several hours ago from a WONDERFUL and much-needed trip to Westboro, WI (more on that later). While I'm waiting for a load of laundry to finish drying, I wanted to relay something I heard on the way there which I found both informative and a little humorous.

According to Russell Moore (ha! I just typed "Crowe" and had to delete it), who was filling in on the Albert Mohler Program (a Christian talk show), Miriam Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary has recently added the following words:

bird flu

soul patch

unibrow

google (as a verb)

himbo - an attractive but vacuous male

mouse potato - someone who sits in front of a computer all day, as opposed to the TV

drama queen - I believe the definition simply read, "See Rachel Wright."


Another random bit of info I couldn't resist sharing: A woman emailed the show to ask whether or not she should see the new "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie, since she knows this will mean several hours of lusting after Johhny Depp. (No comment)

So there you have it: a truly life-enriching post.

The Most Beautiful Place on Earth

As I write, I'm listening to the munchkins banging around and laughing up in their room. Although they are supposed to be napping, I've decided to take the easy road and pretend I don't hear them. This way everybody wins: they have a blast, I get a few things done, and we all go to bed early tonight . . .

This afternoon was glorious. We ate lunch, ran a few errands and headed to the park. At the particular park we visited, the play area is adjacent to several soccer fields bordered by trees.

As we walked toward the swings, Rachel stopped short, her eyes wide, a look of wonder on her face. Puzzled by this sudden change of countenance, I followed her gaze out to the fields, where I saw thousands of small yellow flowers covering sections of the field. The blue sky and green green trees heightened their color, made them seem like little spots of sunshine, dancing and beckoning us to come closer. "Mommy," she whispered, "It's the most beautiful place in the whole world!"

I should explain that there is nothing Rachel loves as much as flowers (with the possible exception of dessert). She insists on keeping an assortment of them on her dresser and is completely devastated every time they die. I have heard at least five times today how David & Lyndie told her she could pick her current dresser bouquet from their yard yesterday. So when she saw that many flowers in one place, she thought she was in heaven.

We spent the next hour among the "buttercups" (I didn't have the heart to tell her they were just weeds) - bright patches of joy that seeped into our souls, erupting into sunny laughter. Rachel picked large bouquets and gave them to me to look after while she went after more. Zekers pulled up handfuls of them, along with a lot of grass, and proudly presented them to me: "It's for you, Mommy." Karis thought they looked like a pretty good afternoon snack.

We played "balance beam" on the bleachers and took turns scoring goals with an imaginary soccer ball. For Zekers, the highlight of the day was seeing a real, honest to goodness, brown hop-toad, who we "rescued" from the play area and set free in the field. I have no way to verify this, but Rach & Zekers both insist he thanked them as he hopped away.

In a few days they probably will have forgotten this afternoon as other memories take its place. But I will treasure it always.