The day we're sleeping for

This is how Ethan refers to "tomorrow." For example, he and Lauren were just flipping a coin, and I asked him what they were deciding. He said, "We're choosing who gets to use the computer first." I reminded him that he and Joshua are on computer restriction today, and he said, "I know. I mean who gets to go first on the day we're sleeping for." :)

The Magnitude of God

Joshua and I have been reading the Narnia books for awhile now, and we're currently on Prince Caspian. (It's slow-going finding time to read only to him since the books don't quite hold the attention of the younger two yet.)

Tonight, we read one of my favorite passages where Lucy speaks to Aslan for the first time since the children's last trip to Narnia. This is the text:

"Alsan," said Lucy, "you're bigger."
"That is because you are older, little one," answered he.
"Not because you are?"
"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."

Isn't this so true in life? God does not get bigger or stronger or more capable, but the longer I know Him, the surer my faith becomes, the more He seems bigger than I ever dreamed. When He had saved me once, He seemed big. When He had brought me out of despair twice, He seemed bigger. When He had made a way where there seemed to be no way on too many occasions to count, He seemed bigger still.

Someone in our Sunday school class this week compared understanding God to looking at the Grand Canyon through a tiny peep-hole in a fence. I think that's exactly what C.S. Lewis was talking about . . . and the hole through which we see Him gets bigger over time so that we are able to see just a little more of Him. Sometimes the widening of our scope comes through joy; probably more often it comes through pain, but ultimately, triumph.

Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is. I John 3:2

Sorry

My apologies to anyone who has been checking my blog today (and I'm sure all 2 of you check it hourly, right?) and noticed the, um, constantly-changing background. I decided to spiff up my blog a little and thought I'd get into the spirit of the season and use the orange and yellow for Fall . . . but, seriously, who'm I kidding? The polka dots and ribbons, cute as they were, are just not me. It wa starting to annoy ME to open my own blog, so it had to go. Now, only 374 backgrounds previews later, I think I'll keep this one. At least for another few minutes.

My big girl and her personal negotiator

Inspired by Cameron's (who was born the same month as Lauren) ability to give up his pacifier, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and get the depacification over with in this house as well. I told Lauren last night that it was her last night with her paci because she was getting too big.

So, about an hour before bedtime tonight, I pulled her aside and showed her that her pacis were broken. (I had cut the tips off of them.) I told her she was almost three and that was too big for a paci and that they were broken now anyway, so tonight would be her first big-girl night with no paci. Being sharp as a tack like her mother, she asked, "Mommy, did you cut them?" Yes, I admitted, because you're too big for them now, remember?

Here's the conversation between Lauren and me, with Josh piping up ever so helpfully:

Me: If you sleep all night in your bed with no paci, would you like to go to the store tomorrow and pick out a big girl reward?
Lauren: Yes!
Me: What would you like to get?
Josh: Lauren, how 'bout a big treat? (Our word for sweets)
Me: No, she needs to pick something she can keep. What do you think you would like? Maybe a Barbie? (She's been wanting one like her cousins have)
Lauren: Ummmm . . .
Josh: Would you like to buy Josh something?
Lauren: Ummm . . .
Josh: Lauren, do you want to buy Josh an axe? (Remember the party city axe?)
Me: Josh, hush and let her pick something.
Lauren: A doggie!
Me: Oh, good idea, a stuffed doggie. I have an idea, would you like to get a webkinz doggie?
Lauren: Yeah!
Josh: Lauren, tell her you want a real doggie.
Me: Joshua, be quiet. Lauren, would you like to pick out a webkinz doggie and mommy will put it on the computer like Josh's and Ethan's? If you sleep without a paci, you must be big enough for me to show you how to use the computer and visit your webkinz doggie. Would you like that?
Lauren: YES!!!

So, I put her to bed about 15 minutes ago with all of her stuffed animals and no paci. Leave it to Lauren to break the mold and be totally unlike her brothers who cried and wailed and properly lamented the loss of a life-long soothing device. Lauren has not shed one tear and has been in her for the past 15 minutes singing. Yes, singing. After I tucked the boys in, I peeked in her room and told her it was time to be quiet and go to sleep, but when she continued singing, I thought, "Heck, the boys were screaming when I took their pacis away. If singing comforts her, then by all means, sing away, little one." At the moment, I'm hearing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." (Buy me some peanuts and cwackow jacks . . .) A daughter after my own heart.

Why I'll never lie to my kids

It was a concept that just made sense to me: never tell my children a lie. Period. I had no idea that once I had children, this would be tested time and again, not only by my children, but by well-intentioned adults and fellow parents. You know the "little lies" that are not a big deal: the candy's all gone, I don't know where your kazoo is, Santa, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy. The latter were big deals in my husband's house growing up; no length was too far to go to squeeze out that one extra year of magical belief. Fake tracks in the snow (from the Easter bunny . . . who did you think I meant? Santa? Remember this is the frozen tundra I'm talking about, where there is still snow at EASTER!), the sounds of bells on Christmas Eve . . . you get the idea. (My in-laws are wonderful Christian people, by the way, who I hope will inspire such enthusiasm for the magic of childhood in my own kids . . . as long as they don't break my honesty rule!)

For me, personally, I couldn't get past the thought that one day my child might think, "Hey, you told me Santa was real and that turned out to be just a fairy tale . . . why should I not question this whole God thing, too?" Now, I realize that good and godly parents disagree on this topic; millions of Christian children undoubtedly grow up being led to believe in Santa without eventually questioning the existence of God. I made the decision that, for me, it was not worth the risk. I purposed in my heart when my first child was born that, to the best of my ability, I would NEVER tell that child something I knew to be false. (Allowing, of course, for age-appropriate explanations that did not contain falsehoods. Also, we do not "ban" Santa or any of the above-mentioned characters; we just make sure our kids know that it's all make-believe.)

Yesterday Joshua discovered that you can print step-by-step instructions on how to draw various Star Wars characters on the SW web site. (I won't link it because it's not entirely kid-friendly. My boys do not use that site unsupervised.) So, he was at the kitchen table working studiously on a drawing when he had to take a potty break. Apparently, he didn't dry his hands well enough after washing because when he got back to the table, he made a few wet spots on his paper. If you've read my blog for any length of time (yes, I realize one post is usually quite a length of time around here), you know that Josh is a pretty intense child. He was upset that his construction paper was wet as he was almost finished with his drawing. I told him that it would dry and not to worry about it. "But, it has two big dark spots on it," he lamented. "I know, but when it dries, you won't be able to see them anymore." He paused for a minute and then said, "You're just trying to make me feel better." "I am trying to make you feel better," I said, "but would I tell you something that isn't true just to make you feel better?" No, he agreed, I would not.

I love that he knows that and that he never truly questions it. I grew up knowing that if my parents said something was so, I could take it to the bank. It's important to me that my kids feel the same way.

Regret:

The feeling you get when you skip your sons' second soccer game because you don't want to get all hot and sweaty right before you have to leave for a wedding . . . and then you find out your firstborn scored twelve goals.

Good job, Josh!

Thankful Friday

Is there anything quite like playing in the rain when you're a kid? Having joined in the fun, I can confidently say it's still great when you're an adult.



When the rain subsided, we pulled out this sprinkler ring I bought last week for 75 cents!



We ended the day with a picnic dinner in the living room while we had family movie night.



Thank you, God, for a wonderful husband and the three best kids in the world.

The continuation (aka, God's amazing)

So, I was a wee bit apprehensive about moving to PA after graduation. You know, in the sense that the Sahara desert is a wee bit warm. As I said, the mere thought or mention of it would reduce me to tears, and since it was our final year of law school, there was of course, a LOT of talk about it. We had to apply to take the bar exam in whatever state we would be moving to, so I spent our last semester getting together the materials needed to apply to the PA state bar (which consists of your birth certificate, your driving record, your criminal record, your blood samples, your firstborn, etc.). I had talked David into agreeing to take the GA bar, too, but we could not take them at the same time because the days overlapped. (Most bar exams are 2-day affairs, given at approximately the same time.) The exams are offered only twice a year - in July and February - so we agreed we would take the PA bar in July and the GA bar in Feb.

Here's where things got a little better (ie, I got my way): because studying for the bar exam is theoretically full-time work and we had to move out of our university apartment when we graduated in May, we had no place to live. So, my parents agreed that we could live with them for the summer while we studied for the bar exam. We flew to PA in July to take the exam . . . but exam results are not issued until October. So, now what do to? Getting a job as a lawyer is tough when you don't have a law license yet, so that left us from late July to late October with little employment opportunities. We weren't in PA to look for jobs there, and we hadn't even taken the GA bar exam yet, so looking for legal jobs here was pretty impossible, too. By August we realized we needed to do something to put bread on the table and move out of my parents' house. Seeing as how David had gotten an oh-so-marketable political science degree, the job-hunting was pretty much left to me since I had a teaching degree and certificate and a yaer of teaching experience pre-law school to boot. So, I got a job teaching 7th grade grammar. (Grammar I love; 7th graders, not so much. No offense, Mal and Grant!)

Boy this story is getting long, huh? So, the teaching job committed us to GA for the year. By then end of that year, we had obtained law licenses in both PA and GA, David had gotten a job with a firm here, and I was pregnant! During this time, David was still knocking on doors (figuratively) in PA from time to time, but nothing was opening. So, he ended up in the DA's office, I had a baby and then went to work part-time for a law firm. Over the next three years, we would have three children, I would become a stay-at-home mom, and David would leave the DA's office to work for the firm he is still with today. (Our time there, sadly, overlapped by only a couple of months before I left to stay at home.)

During all this time, up until Fall of 2006, I would hear him on the phone with his dad in the other room talking about plans for living and working in PA, and I would fall apart all over again. (David's dad graduated from law school with us. He and David went to law school together with the intent to open their own firm afterward; call me the monkey-wrench.) I spent the first six years of our marriage living, quite literally, in abject fear of moving to PA. I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted to live near my family, have my mom to help with my kids, be here to watch my nieces and nephew grow up, have all the comforts and familiarites of my hometown at my fingertips, and last but not least, live within 1/2 hr of actual stores and restaurants! Any talk of PA left me shaken, afraid, and quite honestly bitter and angry. It made much more sense to me that we stay here since I have siblings and David does not. His parents needed to just move to GA to be close to their grandchildren since ours are the only ones they have. Makes sense, doesn't it? Meanwhile, David and his parents kept playing the "God card" - they felt like God wanted them to live there and that we were "supposed to" move there at some point. Thanks a lot - how can you argue with the God card, right?

So, after six years of marriage here I was resenting David for wanting to put me through the pain of leaving my family, resenting his parents for expecting us to do that, and pretty much creating a mile-wide chasm between myself and my husband. It would have made sense during this time for me to have prayed for God to change my heart about the whole thing . . . to help me desire the things my husband desired, to give me peace about following my husband and supporting him in his goals and plans. Plans, he wouldn't hesitate to remind me, that he fully disclosed when he took me to that mountain and proposed all those years before. He had wanted to make sure I would be able to live in that tiny frozen speck in the mountains, and I had said I could. How frustrating this must have been for him, I cannot imagine.

Despite my fear and resentment, for reasons unbeknownst to me, I suggested in the Fall of 06 that we take a family trip to David's hometown. We had not been there since we got engaged, and none of his family had seen any of our children. (Except his parents, but they have been living in Harrisburg - about 4 hrs from the hometown - since after law school, so that was where we always visited.) We drove to Harrisburg first and spent a couple of days at his parents' house. Then we headed up into the mountains.

I was prepared for battle. I fully expected David to hail the virtues of the town the entire time we were there and to try to convince me that it was where we should live. I was ready with my defense. My guard was up, and I would not let him penetrate it. Bring it on, honey, I know this is what you're going to do.

Nope. Silence. We were there for three days, and in a display of probably the wisest self-restraint anyone has ever shown, David said not one word about moving there. Not one word. I was stunned.

But, Someone else spoke to me instead. David's arguments I could resist. His mom and dad's arguments I could thwart. But, there is One whose words cannot be resisted no matter how hard we try. Over the course of the three days we were there, God and God alone, totally and miraculously changed my heart. I saw the town and his family with new eyes. I would be okay. God would go with me, and I would be fine. He gave me a peace that is truly beyond understanding.

God was steadily working in my heart the entire time we were there, but I didn't say anything to David until our final day. On the morning we were packing to leave, we were standing outside (in the bitter October cold and snow!), and I said to him, "If you really feel like this is where we need to be, I'm okay with that." You could have knocked him over with a feather! What??!! After six years of crying and hyperventilating when he even mentioned PA, suddenly I was fine with it? We were both utterly amazed. I knew that this peace had come from God and that He had given it to me mercifully. I had not asked for it. I had only ever prayed that God would change David's heart and that we would not have to go. Never had I asked for my heart to be changed. But, doesn't God always give us what we need even if we're too foolish to ask for it or to recognize it?

That was two years ago next month. Yet, here we are in GA. Over the course of the past year I would wonder why God didn't open doors for us to move right after He gave me peace about it, but we would discover the answer to that. If we had moved to his tiny hometown prior to this year, I probably would have died because my life-threatening health condition would almost certainly not have been found in time. Turns out God had us here for a reason, and now that I've had surgery and my health is good, doors are opening and signs are appearing at every turn that let us know the time to go is soon. I could not ask for a sweeter blessing from God than this peace and like-mindedness with my husband. How terrible putting up the for-sale sign would have been if I were still in the state I was in two years ago. How miserable it is to live life full of fear and resentment, and how great and gracious and merciful God is to give us what we need despite our protestations.

So, I was right all along that we ought to be in Georgia, wasn't I? In the end, though, does that really make me right? No. I read a verse during that final semester of law school which convicted me: I Peter 3:5-6, which says, "For in this way in former times the holy women also, who hoped in God, used to adorn themselves, being submissive to their own husbands; just as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord, and you have become her children if you do what is right without being frightened by any fear." (emphasis mine) That pierced my heart, and I knew then that the right thing to do was to support my husband and to ask God to help us want the same things and to give me courage and peace. But, I didn't. I stubbornly resisted. God did not need me to be bitter and resentful for us to live where He wanted us. He did not need me to stubbornly refuse to submit to my husband and to do everything I could to manipulate circumstances to keep us here. He could have kept us in Georgia without any help from me. I was wrong even if the place was right. Thank God for his mercies that are new every morning.

Have you ever seen a cuter gymnast?

If you have your own gymnast under 3, you're disqualified from answering. :)

Soccer game #1

The boys had their first soccer game on Saturday. They both did great; Ethan even scored the team's first goal. Who knows what the actual final score was (I'm pretty sure we lost), but they both had a lot of fun. Soccer games at this age are hilarious. There was one boy who ran off the field crying to his mom at least 5-6 times during the game, and there was often confusion about who was supposed to be on/off the field.

Getting ready:



Pre-game warmups:



The game:



The stance:



The handshake:



Tired players:





This tired spectator loves her Pops:

My Eeyore

I'm sure by now I've mentioned that Josh is my dramatic child. He's always had a way with words and a penchant for seeing the negative more easily than the positive. For example, as we were getting ready for church on Sunday he told me he doesn't like his head because it's not round; it's too pointy. What? It's not pointy at all. Well, he doesn't like that his chin prevents his face from being a perfect circle. Apparently, he wants to look like Mickey Mouse. If he were a girl, I'm convinced he'd be in the "depths of despair," right along with Anne of Green Gables.

Friday was a particularly woeful day. First, I wouldn't let him buy a skull-and-crossbones adorned SICKLE he saw in Party City. (I know, right? What kind of mother am I?) Can I just say how much I hate that his birthday is in October, so every year when we go to get birthday supplies we are surrounded by blood and vampires and all manner of goul and gore? Of course, Josh loves it. He says it's his favorite store (one he goes to 2-3 times a year, mind you) and that the aisle with "all the axes" is his "favorite aisle!" So, when mom said no to this particular axe (I decided not to teach him about sickles just yet. I'll save that for after machetes and kidnapping.), his world came crashing down. "What if we take off the skull? But I have swords and light sabers! Why can't I have an axe? When I'm an adult, I'm going to buy it . . ." After a discussion about how he needs to stop trying to have the last word and drop this subject before he experienced some unpleasant repercussions, he snuck in one last question. "What about when I'm M & G's age?" (my 14 and 12 y/o niece and nephew) "Not another word, Joshua." Pause. "I thought for that you'd at least say maybe."

By this point in our fun-filled afternoon (seriously, it really was . . . we were at Party City in the first place to determine what supplies we need for his Star Wars birthday party, aka Jedi Training, and were then headed to my mom's house to swim. A fact he knew nothing about when he'd left for school that morning, so this was a total fun Friday afternoon suprise, and David even took off early from work to come swim with us. Sounds like a great afternoon, no?

As they say, all good things must come to an end, so after FOUR hours of swimming and fun at my mom's, I said it was time to wrap things up and head home since the boys had their first soccer game at 9:00 the next morning. Well, you know how when it's time to leave kids have inevitably "JUST STARTED" doing the one thing they had really wanted to do the whole time? Nothing they had done the previous four hours was any fun at all . . . THIS was what they really wanted to be doing. Apparently, the swimming and bike riding he'd been doing for four hours were all just time-killers while he waited for the opportunity to go inside and play coyotes. What this involves, I do not know, but alas, it was time. to. leave.

And leave we did. After a few miles of enduring the sobs and laments coming from my almost 6 year-old Eeyore in the backseat, I let him know that it needed to stop and fast. If this is how you act when you have to leave a fun place, you will not go the next time, I said. He mustered all of his resolve and got his sobbing under control as we were pulling into our driveway, and this conversation ensued:

Me: Ethan, carry this bag inside. Josh, carry these vitamins inside. (We had stopped by the Vitamin Shop.)
Joshua: Mommy, I wish I could go ahead and take my vitamins becuase I feel like I don't have any strength left. [I turn my head so he doesn't see that I'm about to burst into laughter.] I don't have any strength at all.
Me: Then, by all means take 2 vitamins.

When I relayed this story to a friend, he said, "Apparently, he doesn't know about Scotch yet, huh?"

The Lost Sea

(I had to edit this because I published it the first time as "The Lost Seat" . . . which is an entirely different story about an embarrassing movie theater incident that I'll save for another day. Don't worry; I have plenty. Of embarrassing stories, that is, not days. Though I certainly hope to have plenty of those, too.

Aren't you glad I wasted so much of your precious reading time with that irrelevant information at the beginning of this entry? I know you're probably all like, "She should have just left it as 'The Lost Seat' and saved me this ridiculously long introduction." I thought that, too. And, just so you know, I've never used the phrase "all like" instead of "said" or "thinking" before. First time for everything.)

Here is the last set of pictures from last weekend's trip to Tennessee. While driving to Knoxville, my mom and I were reminscing about when my brothers and I were kids and we used to travel up and down I-75 and I-65 all the time due to my dad's business. He was the type to take the whole family along and make a vacation of things instead of just going away on a business trip. One of the many things I love about my dad. So, we were remembering all these tourist places we went to back then and I said, "Do you remember The Lost Sea? Where was that?" My mom, with her acute memory skills, said, "I think it was on the way to Lexington [KY]." Lo and behold (or "yo and behold" as a very dear friend of mine would say :)), not 10 minutes later we passed a sign saying "Lost Sea Next Exit." Turns out it's in Sweetwater, TN about an hour outside of Knoxville. (Which, if you're wondering, is nowhere near Lexington, KY) So, on the way home we decided to stop and do the tourist thing.

Of course, since there were 13 of us on the trip and 2 vehicles we had spent a lot of time trying to buckle 3 kids into carseats/boosters across the back of my van. Not an easy task. I jokingly told my brother (whose family had decided not to stop at The Lost Sea because they're really not very much fun - total sticks-in-the-mud) that he could make things easier for us by just taking Lauren home with them. Later this somehow got misconstrued as an offer to trade Lauren (who is 2 and not the world's quietest or most helpful passenger) for my niece Mallory (who is 13 and totally knows how to shut up when I'm trying to listen to talk-radio). I told Ben that I had not suggested this at all . . . but, if that's what he REALLY wanted to do, how could I say no? And so it was that the Lost Sea Adventure travelers were me, David, my mom, Josh, Ethan, my niece Lesey, and my niece Mallory. (I have to note here that the great thing about having kids several years after Ben's family had their last child is that he is far enough removed from that whole stage that he totally enjoys having Lauren around. Lest you think this was really burdensome for him and Renae - Ben adores Lauren. I have great brothers.)

By this point, if you're still reading at all, you're probably thinking (or all like), "What the heck is the Lost Sea?" (Unless, of course, you actually clicked on the link earlier, but who really does that? Not me.) So, let me tell you. The Lost Sea is a giant cave inside the side of a mountain in TN. This HUGE cave contains the country's largest underground lake, which is pretty cool. (The tour gude said it "used to be the world's largest" until they recently discovered a bigger one in Malaysia or Africa or somewhere. I resisted the urge to tell him that, no, even then it wasn't the world's largest; everyone just thought it was. That's what the whole "discovery" thing is all about, dude. Well, actually, it was a girl, but whatever, dude.)

Without further adude (sorry . . . I'm so tired, and I get a little punny when I'm tired), here are some pics:

This one is in the giant yellow tube that is the only one of its kind east of the Missippi. (At least we think it is, but maybe they'll discover another one in the Smokies someday.) Note the screw-shaped rock formations along the sides. Okay, it's actually the man-made entrance into the cave because the natural entrance was becoming too dangerous (translation probably: they got sued) for tourists. I include this picture because it's the only one that shows how my mom, my niece, and I all unknowingly wore almost identical outfits that day. Don't you think that's blog-worthy?



David and Josh just inside the cave (sorry it did not occur to me until about 200 miles farther down I-75 that I should have increased my ISO for taking pictures inside a freakin' cave):



Ethan:



The kids near a stalagtite called "Black Cat:"



Me and the boys, included only because I love how much Ethan was digging getting his picture taken:



A large "meeting room" inside the cave where Indians used to live and hold, well, meetings:



The boats on the lake (I tried to adjust the lighting a bit on photoshop so you could tell that it's actually water, but it didn't work very well):



On the boat ride (during which you could reach over the side of the boat and touch the water and see tons of trout) (Ethan's wearing a girly white sweater because it was all my mom had with her for Lesey, and we all know I'm not a prepared enough mom to have thought to carry along a jacket when going to a cave that's a steady 58 degrees year-round):

I'm not omnipotent

Hard to believe, I know, but apparently it's true. I'm driving home today with four kids in the van (my 3 plus my niece) overwhelmed with frustratation at how unkind my kids can sometimes be to one another. One of my kids had gotten a new toy yesterday, and of course another one wants to play with it. Cue the announcers; the fight is on. Mind you, we're talking about a squishy green rubber caterpillar that probably came from the dollar store. But, never mind, my kids are ready to fight to the death over it.

Of course, I tell the owner that he should share and that if the shoe were on the other foot, he would want his brother to share. And, I remind the person who does not own this holy grail of toys that his brother just got it so it's more special than his other toys. I've recently begun using a jar of hershey's kisses as a reward system for random acts of kindness that my kids show to one another - an idea I got from this friend. For a week or so, I gave away not one single hershey's kiss. Zero. Nada. I pointed out to the kids that I had this whole jar-full of chocolates and not one child who could find one kind thing to do for another. Finally, searching desperately for a way to jumpstart this system, I rewarded them with one when I noticed them nicely sharing their transformers. That seemed to do the trick for awhile, and I noticed a significant improvement in kindness. It was short-lived.

Now, I'm driving home listening to dialogue I had heretofore thought reserved for conversation between sunnis and shi'ites. And, do you know what I do? I give up. As I'm racking my brain for where I took a wrong turn on this winding parenting road, it dawns on me . . . this is not a behavior problem; this is a heart problem. I cannot make my kids be nice. I can make them ACT nice. I can make them share. I cannot make them be nice. I cannot make them love each other. I cannot make them care for another above themselves. The problem is not in their behavior but in their hearts. (If I'm really being honest, I don't do such a stellar job of loving and putting others first myself, do I?) How thankful I am to know the One who can. My kids' behaviors are my domain, but their hearts are His. Instead of wringing my hands and _____ (insert ineffective parental yelling or lecture of choice), I need to remember first to pray for God to soften my childrens' hearts and to fill them with His love for their fellow man. And, since He IS omnipotent, I can trust that this task which seems (and is) insurmountable to me will not be beyond His ability.

In the meantime, anybody got an extra green squishy caterpillar lying around? Or at least some earplugs? Come on, give me something here!

Reluctant pictures of our trip to GA Tech

I must begin this post with a resounding WAAAAAAAAAAR EAGLE!

Unfortunately, my big brother - who I in so many ways admire and desire to emulate - is, I must confess, a GA Tech alum. Sigh. I know. When he invited the rest of the family to accompany him and his wife and kids to a game last week, it was with mixed emotions that I agreed to go. I knew the kids would love going to the game with their cousins, and I knew that we'd have a great time together as a family. But, really?? GA Tech? Alright. We went, and we did indeed have a great time. Here are some of the pictures, but keep in mind there is an invisible War Eagle super-imposed over each one. :)

Before the game, we enjoyed a picnic on a big grassy knoll where the kids had a blast playing football and goofing around.

Football playing:


My football player nephew:


Some of the girl cousins:


Me, David, and the kids:


After trying forever to get a good picture of my kids, Josh and Ethan began hamming it up when my 8 year-old niece got out her camera. Here's how they posed FOR HER with no instruction!


My sister-in-law and three of my nieces:


Blame it on their age, my poor parenting, whatever . . . but, Josh and Ethan sure did love to boogy when GA Tech scored!





My niece in the bleachers:

Whatever My God Ordains

I recently discovered this hymn thanks to David Z. and the awesome song sheet (should that be one word?) he created for our Bible study this summer. It has been one of many songs that has brought me great comfort over the past 6 months, and I'm planning on posting the lyrics to several of them over the coming days. (How's that for an easy, lazy way to blog?)

No, really, God has always used music as a powerful and moving tool in my life, so much so that when I hear certain songs I can almost feel/smell/sense the circumstances of my life at the time the song ministered to me. When I found out I would need a very serious operation in February, one of the first things I did was sit down at the piano and begin playing "Be Still, My Soul." The second thing I did was to download dozens of hymns and worship songs onto my ipod to take with me to the hospital. Through many un-sleepable (?) days in ICU, I put my earbuds in and was comforted by the words to some of the most powerful songs I've ever known.

Now, as I'm preparing to move to Pennsylvania at whatever unknown point in the future our house should sell, I'm finding a need for comfort all over again. It was with this in mind that I shared the following song with my mom on our drive to Tennessee this past weekend. The song is called "Whatever My God Ordains is Right," and though written in 1676, its tribute to God's sovereignty is timeless.

The reason our family was in Tennessee was to visit my step-grandmother who is losing her 4-year battle with cancer. She was recently told that there is nothing more they can do and that she should have about 3 good months left. She is a Christian and is more than ever aware of the hope that we have in Christ, but even so, she is afraid of what the coming months hold for her. As anyone would be. Her circumstances gave me an even more powerful vantage point from which to view the message in these lyrics. Enjoy.

Whatever My God Ordains is Right

Whatever my God ordains is right
In his love I am abiding
I will be still in all he does
And follow where he is guiding
He is my God; though dark my road
He holds me that I shall not fall
And so to him I leave it all.

Whatever my God ordains is right
He never will deceive me
He leads me by the proper path
I know he will not leave me
I take content, what he has sent
His hand can turn my griefs away
And patiently I wait his day.

Whatever my God ordains is right
Here shall my stand be taken
Though sorrow, or need, or death be mine
Yet I am not forsaken
My Father’s care circles me there
He holds me that I shall not fall
And so to him I leave it all.

(Original lyrics by Samuel Rodigast and translated by Catherine Winkworth -Trinity Hymnal #94. Alternate lyrics and music by Mark Altrogge 2.18.07. You can download this song from the CD “In a Little While” at Sovereign Grace Music.)