Why Daddy Should Never Become a Barber

Here at the old homestead, we don't celebrate Halloween.  No judgement on anyone who does, we just choose not to.  No big whoop.  We do celebrate Reformation Day (you know Martin Luther and the hanging of the 95 Thesis?)

However, I was not planning on celebrating it by having our youngest's hair cut like a monk in honor of the aforesaid Mr. Luther.

I tried to tell Hubby he was going to short on the sides, but I got quickly vetoed.  I'm only his mama.

So now we have an eight-month-old monk at our house.

Thanks, honey.

Ladies, next year, remind me not to have Hubby do this on a Sunday morning...and two weeks before family Christmas pictures are taken.

Thank you.

Hooray!  It's that time again! What was your Motherhood Moment this week?  Please link up and share!  Don't forget to use my cute button and link back here on your post.

Radical Transformation

Imagine yourself in one of the rooms of your house.  I try (ahem) every year to do fall or spring cleaning.  Let me be honest, I never am able to do both fall and spring no matter how I try to organize it.  Nor do I ever manage to get it completely done, whatever my intentions are.

Even though the room you're imagining might not be a complete wreck, you can tell it needs to be spiffied up and some heavy-duty cleaning done to it.  So, you start pulling things out of the closet, off of the shelves, out of the drawers and before you know it, suddenly you are in the midst of a huge mess.  Things have been thrown everywhere, garbage bags full of stuff to get rid of, no place to rest your eyes because everything is in chaos.  Inwardly, and even outwardly perhaps, you cringe and berate yourself for starting this darn project.  Everything is way worse than it was before and now you have no choice but to take care of it.  Ugh.  Why didn't you leave it alone?  It was maybe not the best situation, but it was totally functional and...comfortable.

This is my life.  Or, at least, was a short time ago.

God has started shaking everything up, pulling everything into the center so it all can be gone through, dusted or shined up, organized, put back correctly or (dare I say?) thrown out altogether.

As many of you read in one of my previous posts, life as I had known it came to a sudden and abrupt halt.  It was not like a loved one had died, I don't mean to sound so dramatic as that.  But every thought, emotional pattern and defense mechanism was rearing it's ugly head demanding to be dealt with.

Purification, sanctification, all those -tions, all boil down to one thing...ugliness, pain, past hurts, being sinned against, MY SIN.

And that's what it all comes down to.  God had used the circumstances over the last two years to bring me to a breaking point.  Was I going to continue down a road of independence from Him or was I going to come to the realization that I could do nothing apart from Him?  that without Him I am a sinner who can do nothing to be saved without Him?

I knew what I wanted to do.  But that means letting things go.  Things that, while they might be comfortable and familiar, are really idols or, at the very least, distractions from where my focus has to be.  The process has been like the refining of silver.  As the silver is melted to make it pure, the dross (or the impurities aka ugly sin, past hurts, confusion and then anger) all come to the top.  And that's where I am.

I'm a puddle of melted silver with all of the ugliness and pain coming up.  In the process of finding my voice and becoming the woman God wants me to be, this junk has to be dealt with.  I've tried to wriggle out of it.  I'm tired of hurting and I don't want to do it anymore.  Unfortunately, with dealing with the stuff, pain comes up and needs to be dealt with in a Biblical way.  People and situations have to be confronted, restored or even stepped away from.  I have to take my voice back and say that I can't be treated like this anymore.  I don't know about you, but that scares the poop out of me.

(Wait.  Did I just say poop on here?  Um, it appears I did.  Sorry.)

So here I am.  Weeks into the process and experiencing a bevy of emotions.  Anger (to be perfectly frank) at being put into several situations that I shouldn't have been now is being worked through with the intention of full forgiveness.  A total retraining of my reactions towards others and their lives is part of my transformation.

That is exactly what this is:  radical transformation.  He has been waiting off to the side, desiring for me to allow Him to transform me into the butterfly that He has seen me as all of these years.

Transformation - ugly, hard, uncomfortable...beautiful. 

"...to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor."  Isaiah 61:2-4


I'm ready for my crown now, Lord.  Any time...
 
...of course, the sooner the bettter.

Family Sundays - Motherhood is Calling

Ooo, running a little bit late today because, well, motherhood.  Y'all know what I'm talking about.

Whew.  Just made it.

Sunday nights are sacred around our house.  The weekend is coming to an end and a new week is about to begin.  About five years ago, Paco and I decided that we wanted to keep Sunday nights as just family fun nights.  There are, of course, exceptions but they're pretty rare and we've done a relatively good job keeping them set aside for just us.

They usually consist of games or a movie as well as a yummy treat (of course).  Last night, for example, we muddled through the intricate plot (yeah, not so much) of Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo and nibbled on popcorn and pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.  Everyone mooshes together on the couch and there's a dog pile of legs and arms, giggles and protests as everyone tries to get comfortable.  It's heaven on earth, at least until it dissolves in chaos and yells of, "I can't breathe!"  I love it.

Jack's face lights up as he watches us all laugh, Judah yells, "There's Her-pe!  I see Her-pe!" again and again.  Maggie throws her legs over the arm of the chair, trying to act more grown up, but loving every minute.  Livy and Sam still fight to sit on Mama's and Daddy's laps while we just sigh and smile at each other knowing that, alas, this won't last forever.

And I thank God for this moment, this life, this love.





What kind of fun traditions do you have with your family?  Would you like to share them with me?  Please link up and use my fun "Motherhood is Calling" button on your blog post.  Thanks for stopping by!

Losing My Voice

Last week, I wrote a post sharing just a wee bit of some things that I've been dealing with.  Believe me, this is just the tip of the iceberg, but really, who wants to hear about every.single.thing?  Keeping that in mind, I want to share some of what I've been dealing with hoping that maybe it helps someone out there at some point.

Disclaimer:  Okay, y'all.  I'm not there.  I do not have this all figured out or am all healed.  However, God has graciously placed strong women of the Lord in my life lifting me up through this (including some dear friends who read this blog), as well as a husband who has been rock solid, never wavering.  This the beginning of my story, which is still being written and even re-written everyday.

I am not a melancholy person.  I was born with an out-going, bubbly personality with social butterfly tendencies.  I am expressive, loving a good story and wearing my emotions on my sleeve.  While expressive, I'm not dramatic in my emotions, suffering roller-coaster-esque highs and lows that many others suffer through.

Along with this naturally out-going personality, I was born with the need to please and be liked by all.  Fast forward to my life now:  married to a fabulous man, mother to five healthy, ornery, absolutely lovely children who love me back.  We have a home, food, clothes, two vehicles, all that we need.  I've been saved for as long as I can remember, we homeschool and we strive to be in obedience to God in all that we do.  I have everything that I've ever wanted.

So what was wrong with me?  I should be filled with joy.

I wasn't.  And I hadn't been for a long time.  Oh, I wanted everyone to think I was.  I tried to be.  I drove myself into the ground trying to be everything everyone needed me to be.  After all, everyone else could do it.  What was wrong with me?

I just wanted to be Jamie again....the spunky, fun, laughing wife and mama that I used to be.  But no one seemed to notice that wasn't who I was then.  (Except for Hubby, but even he didn't realize how bad it was at first.)  Looking back, I see how I was reaching out wanting someone to notice, realize that I needed help.  I didn't even realize it myself at the time.  I remember telling Paco, "Something is wrong with me.  I can't do this anymore." 

The guilt grew like snowdrifts during a blizzard.  Obviously, as a Christian, I was doing something wrong.  I should be walking in victory, not being curled up in the fetal position.  I cried and cried and...yes, cried.  Every kind of "fix" was temporary and shallow.  The house quickly became "the pit of despair" and schooling, well schooling was just plain laughable. 

Three weeks ago, things came to a screeching halt.  Once again, I found myself in the figurative fetal position absolutely unable to function.  No one was hearing me.  No one could hear me saying that I can't live like this anymore.  It was a shock for me to realize that my voice had been gone for some time.  From the time that I had stopped sticking up for myself as a young child and teen, to my ugly and painful first marriage and divorce, my voice had been drowned out.  Then my earnest desire to make sure my biblical role in my marriage and family came first left me feeling like when I opened my mouth all that was heard was the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher (wanh, wanh, wanh...).  I so wanted to do things "right" that I ignored my emotional meter telling me that burnout was quickly approaching.

It was glaringly obvious that I could not go on like this.

When I was at my lowest,  He stepped in.  And I'll never be the same.

To be continued...

My Daughter, My Sister - Motherhood is Calling

Being the mama to five littles, I have the privilege of praying for my children.  I pray for their safety, their well-being, their friends, their character, but most of all for their salvation. 

When I was pregnant with each one and then from the moment they were born, I've been speaking biblical truths about who they are in Christ to them, praying that some day, they would chose Him.

Yesterday, Olivia decided to chose Him.  Hallelujah!

Born with the tenderest of servant's hearts, yet with a feisty personality, I wasn't sure when God would bring her into His loving embrace.  October 16th, 2011 is her eternal birthday, now and forever more!

Welcome to the family, sweet Livy-girl!

How was your weekend with your sweet littles, friend?  Would you like to share with us?  If you would like to share, please join the linky party!

Book Page Wreath

A couple of years ago, I would not have called myself crafty.  Nope, no way, not on your life.

I'm still not crafty exactly, but after looking at, reading, drooling over and just plain wanting to copy-cat some blogs that I've seen out there, I've become a little more confident.  Combine that with a husband who is looking for any reason to pull out the saw I got him last year for Christmas and we're a dangerous team.

This time, however, I didn't need him.  I just needed some old books, a styrofoam wreath, a sharpie or ink pad, a stapler and a hot glue gun.  Well, and Hodgepodge Arty's tutorial.  She did it so well and I just loved the results.

Here's how mine turned out:

I think Hodgepodge Arty's was a lot quicker to make because she didn't roll her pages so tightly.  Mine is very full and took three books to get to look this way.  (I raided the kid's book shelves.  Heidi and National Velvet are now being repurposed.)  So, lesson is, if you want to do it more quickly, roll the pages looser.  If you like my very, very full look, roll them tightly.

Here's how it looks altogether.  The only thing is that because there's a leveled edge on the top of the mirror, the wreath doesn't lay flush against it.  Hmmmm.  Any suggestions?

One last shot for the road. {sigh} I love when projects actually work out.

A few tips from me...

Instead of glueing each and every rolled page, I stapled them.  My glue gun and I have a love/hate relationship.  It can be kind of temperamental.  I have the blisters to prove it.  If I were to make it again, though, I'd put a dab of glue rather than stapling the pages that go on the very innermost rings so that staples don't show.  You can't see them unless you're really close, but still....

Another thing, I couldn't find my ink pad (seriously, for days.  it was driving me crazy and I really wanted to do this project.), so I used a sharpie marker.  It worked just as well, in my opinion.

I had everything I needed for this project, except for the wreath base which was $4.99 at JoAnn's before the 40% coupon.  Loving that!!

I'm actually thinking about selling these at a local craft boutique.  Whatcha think?  Maybe I shouldn't have shown you how easy these are to make...

Everything

(if you're reading this through email, you'll have to skip on over to the actual blog post.)
Even though it's a little belated, I realized I never said Happy Birthday to my man.  At least on here, I didn't.

Sorry, love.

I would just like to say to Patrick, my other half, my best friend, my strong shoulders...

Thank you.

Thank you for not being afraid of my tears.  Thank you for picking me up out of the messy mess I've been lately.  Thank you for seeing beauty through the ashes and pain.

Thank you for being the daddy that you are...for making our children squeal and laugh with delight.  Thank you for giving me five incredible children who are our legacy. 

Thank you for cleaning up the kitchen (again) and putting gas in my car.  Thank you for not minding that the ironing still isn't done or that your workshirts...socks...underwear, are still in the dryer.

Thank you for reminding me what it is to laugh and dancing with me in the kitchen. 

Thank you for...everything.




Happy birthday, love.  I can't wait to see what the Lord has planned for you in this next year. It's going to be amazing!

Call Me Irresponsible

I would love to do a Motherhood is Calling today, but my heart's just not there.  No, nothing is wrong with the children...they're just fine.

It's me.  My heart is hurting.  Has been hurting for months...years, actually.  My hubby and children are the light of my world, or maybe I should say the smaller lights in my world as I struggle, attempt, strive to make sure the number one light in my world is Who is supposed to be (and deserves to be) there.

I actually don't want to go into all of it now, but I am planning a series of posts all about it.  Come to find out, I'm dealing with some depression and spiritual topsy-turvyiness.  I know that in saying this I'm taking a chance that you might never want to come back here again.  No one wants to read the ramblings of a woman who declares that.  However, even if you don't ever read this, I'm writing this for me because I know this isn't the end of my story.  I'm running a race, with my eye on the prize and victory assured.

It will take some time and patience (from everyone around me), but I'll get there.  Since realizing some of what has been going on for the last while, God has been so patient with me (and my groaning, kvetching and general raging against Him) and has slowly been showing me things about myself and how I function.

Here's an example:

On Saturday, we had an incredible family day planned.  Since fall pretty much doesn't exist here in the desert, we have to go and find it.  We made plans to drive up north to visit a pumpkin patch for the day.   I had made cinnamon rolls (from scratch.  oh yeah baby!) and hot chocolate for breakfast.  Everyone was dressed in jeans and boots, diaper bag packed, DVD picked out for the drive.  It was a good day for me complete with dancing in the kitchen with Hubby as we were cleaning up breakfast dishes.

We piled in the car, turned on the first major road and then had to be diverted.  There had been a car accident.  The intersection was taped off, meaning...someone had died.  Instant emotional crash for me.  All the sudden I went from regular, fun-loving, spunky mama to being barely able to breathe.  Someone's world had just been rocked because they were out driving on a Saturday morning.

That's when I got mad.  Why had God let me see that?  I had been having such a fantastic day so far.  Why did my joy just get flushed down the toilet?  THAT'S NOT FAIR!  I prayed, oh how I prayed inside.  Pat knew I was struggling and just held my hand.

That's when He whispered a truth to me.  "You're not responsible for this, these people.  I am."

You see, I'm a first born.  I was, in a sense, a band-aid child.  Born to "fix" my parent's rocky marriage.  I grew up with these truths in my head:

 - You don't rock the boat.  Keep everyone happy and no one gets hurt. 

 - As long as everyone else is happy, everything is good and secure.

 - You are responsible to keep everyone happy, secure, safe and loved.

 - If these people feel none of the above things, you fix it.  You take some of their pain onto yourself.

Let me tell you, it doesn't work.  I've been doing this for thirty-two years.  And I tried to do it again on Saturday with the accident.  As much as my heart hurt deeply for these people who's lives had changed in an instant, I couldn't do anything about it.  I could pray with all my heart (which I did) but I couldn't take their pain on myself, which is second nature to me.

When I realized this, I felt the mantle of responsibility fly off of my shoulders and my joy in the day return.  It was such a relief to give it to the One who really could do something about it.  I was reminded that I am responsible for my family...my husband, my children, myself.  I have to make sure they're well, emotionally, physically, spiritually, and THEY are my priority.

Thank you for reading and sharing this with me.  I don't know if you'll comment or even ever come back.  If you don't, that's okay.  Some of what I shared is deeply personal.  Some might argue that it shouldn't have even been shared here.  For me, however, I needed to do this.  I'm a genuine and open person.  I can't just get on here and make it seem like everything is okay.  I've done that in my life for far to long.

Lots of love, my friends!  I hope you have a blessed day.

Ain't No Sunshine When He's Gone

My husband had to go out of town last week.  Ugh.  How do wives of men who travel do it?

Paco doesn't have to go out of town by himself very often, thank goodness, because I absolutely hate when he does.  Everybody is out of sorts, dinner is a half-hearted affair and his side of the bed is terribly empty.

It's just not a good situation.  Ever.

Even though it's rare that he's not here, I have learned that are just certain things that I do (and don't do) while he's away.

1.  I do not read Agatha Christie mysteries while he's gone.  Nope.  Learned that lesson the hard way.  I reverted to being six and had to sleep with the lights on.

2.  I do let the children watch the Three Amigos.  Again. 

3.  I do not let the children climb on the outside of the banister.  Okay, I never want them doing that, but I really, REALLY don't want to have to take five children to the ER because someone has broken something important.

4.   I do watch Sports Center.  {sigh}  It's true.  It's goofy and sappy, but it makes me feel like he's home.  Of course, when he really is home, I'm asleep on the couch so I don't see any of it.  I actually see a lot more when he's not home.  I guess that's good, but I'd rather him be here with me snoring next to him on the couch.

5.  I do get a treat for Hubby when he gets home.  Oh, wow.  Did anyone else notice that that's a lot of Munchkins?  Shoot.  Good thing he has help to eat 'em all. 

(Thanks, Dating Divas, for the idea!)

He's home now (yay!) and hopefully I won't have to use this list for a long time!  It's just no good without him here.

Motherhood is Calling - The Pictures Tell a Story

My sweet nephew loves Jack.  When I say loves, I mean, the kind of love that squeezes until you're sure he's breaking one of Jack's ribs from hugging him so hard.  It makes me love being a mama/auntie.

Here's an example:

 E's going to plant a big one on Jack.  Jack's not showing much interest.

Yet E presses on.  He is determined.

Jack still isn't sure.  However, E will triumph!

Jack still isn't sure what just happened, but E is victorious!!

These mama/auntie moments always make me laugh...until Jack's ribs really do get broken.  Watch out, E!  Jack has two big brothers who will teach him how to be rough and ready.  It won't take long for him to be able to defend himself from your loving kisses.







This moment was brought to you by....Motherhood is Calling Mondays over here at One Blessed Lady.  Please, feel free to link up a mommy-hood post using my handy-dandy linky, of course linking back here on your post!  What made your heart smile this week?