Thanking As Much As Begging

Last year I taught my daughter

How to Not Nag a Husband.

Actually, I thought I was teaching her how to politely

cash in on a promise without being a dripping faucet.

Afterall, she wasn't asking her daddy

for something out of his control,

she was just asking for something he'd promised.

With my advice, she stopped greeting my husband

every

night at the front door asking,

"Daddy, when are you going to build my playhouse?"

 

She stopped waking him up

every

Saturday morning asking,

"Are you going to build my playhouse today?"

She just left signs everywhere.

It was quiet.

It wasn't nagging.

It worked.

We got what we wanted.

We have played, pretended, snacked, tea-partied our hearts out.

The loft holds a double mattress, so we have slumber parties

where we watch movies,  eat snacks,

chew gum instead of brushing our teeth before bed,

then fall asleep holding hands.

This little home her daddy prepared for us has been

a huge, huge, blessing.

 

One day, I was convicted to tears.

I did a great job of teaching Rebekah

 to ask her Daddy for an answer to a promise.

I didn't properly teach her to thank him.

Oh, we said thanks on more than one occasion.

She is delighted and will spontaneously hug and thank her Daddy.

She tells others how thankful she is for her Daddy.

But, our thanks didn't match the magnitude of

asking

or the magnitude of

blessing

 we'd received.

To remedy the situation,

Rebekah and I giggled and planned and shopped.

We invited Daddy to a party.

A big party.

On the colorful banner we wrote

Thank You.

Beka and her Guest of Honor.

Kisses of thanksgiving for the carpenter.

Let the festivities begin!

Scott's love language is hand-written cards.

(I know that's not exactly what the book says,

but it's exactly what he wants.)

Beka's handwritten words of love and gratitude.

This was his favorite part of the celebration.

So, you all know where I'm going with this,

doncha'?

Every day,

all day long,

 our Heavenly Father

fulfills His promises to us.

I'm convicted that my

prayers of thanksgiving

don't match the magnitude of

blessing received.

Hebrews 13:15
By Him therefore let us offer the

sacrifice of praise

 to God continually, that is,

the fruit of our lips
giving thanks

 to His Name.

Thank you, Daddy.

Thank you, Heavenly Father.

 

Mommy Craft Day

The Fall sunshine begged to kiss our faces.

The dancing leaves fluttered lightly,

like the Gingerbread man,

daring us to catch them if we can.

We just HAD to get outside.

It was supposed to be simple walk

through the neighborhood for

 three kids,

two moms

and one basket.

Our goals were simple.

 1. pick up leaves.

2. don't pick up dog-doo on your shoe

3. don't get hit by a car.

We didn't plan on teaching the kids

the difference between old, crumbly, yucky leaves,

and fresh, I-will-work-for-your-project leaves.

We didn't plan on teaching them

that just because the garage door is open,

doesn't mean the owners want you walking in.

Hey, it was filled with cases of candy and pop,

what do you expect?

We didn't plan on teaching them that two kids,

hanging on each side of the basket

and whirling around like a gyroscope

in the middle of the street,

probably wasn't the safest idea.

The craft was supposed to be simple.

1. places leaves under white paper

2. rub over them with a crayon.

Norah loves scissors.

Norah hasn't quite mastered the skill,

but found she cut better with her mouth open.

Norah crafted by cutting the leaves into little pieces.

Beka is the oldest, therefore,

finds crafting skills a little easier.

Beka likes to tell the other children what to do.

Avery chose the prettiest colors and scribbled the hardest.

Avery  almost spelled his name right.

After one page,

the kids disappeared to the backyard,

live in the forest,

go hunting for meat

and play Army.

Kelly-Across-the-Street and I enjoyed what ended up being

Mommy Craft Day.

We didn't plan on teaching the kids,

that leaving the Mommies alone to craft,

was really,

really,

really good therapy.