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.

 

Didja' Celebrate Yesterday?

Just wondering if any of you celebrated the holiday yesterday.

No, not Pearl Harbor Day. 

That's a sad day to commemorate, not celebrate.

I'm talking about

National Pop Day.

Don't know what I'm talking about?

I guess those of you not from our crazy family

 need to be educated.

It's the day where you buy

lotsa' pop

and drink

lotsa' pop.

This year I also bought vanilla ice cream just to make it

even more sugary deliciousness.

You might be sneering at my choice of beverages.

If I were you reading my blog,

I'd be sneering, too.

Pop isn't good for you.

Pop is expensive.

(That's why I bought the generic brand.)

Pop has no food value.

That's why we celebrate.

Maybe you're like me in this way,

you're concerned about your kids' health and nutrition,

but you have a hubby,

a dear, loving, thoughtful, wonderful hubby,

but a hubby, nonetheless, who would be able to feed the kids

Twinkies for breakfast without any remorse.

Not even a sniggle of remorse.

Not a worry about their blood sugar,

their metabolism,

 or the terrors of food dyes on the human body.

Years ago,

 I'd stopped buying pop and other such stuff and nonsense 

 for the kids, aiming to build a healthier, happier family.

Then Daddy went grocery shopping,

but didn't really buy groceries.

It was one of his glorious

 "I can buy anything I want 'cuz my mom ain't here"

kinda' trips.

He brought home a lot of pop and taboo snacks,

knowing he would thrill the kids with the variety he'd chosen.

Momma Mindy wasn't too happy.

Momma Mindy grilled Poppa on why he would buy such

poisonous things for their beloved children.

Poppa can think quickly on his feet,

especially when under estrogen attack.

"It's National Pop Day,

didn't you know?"

Then he elaborated some hilarious tale about the

birth of the great holiday and

how we needed to celebrate each year.

Later, when discussing this situation when the kids weren't around,

we tried to figure out how blissfully unite my

quest for health and his quest for snacks in marriage.

We came to the conclusion that both can happily

live in the same house together.

In fact, it provides the check and balance for the home.

If we ate only what I'd read was good for you,

life would end up a little boring.

If we ate only what Daddy bought,

we'd be fat and diabetic, with arteries that needed to be roto-rootered.

Besides, the more you deny, the more they crave.

It's that Romans 7 thing flaring up in their flesh.

It can create more desire.

Moderation is good.

So, during the majority of the year,

I don't buy pop for the kids.

But, on

National Pop Day,

we all raise a toast,

to fun,

family,

and our dear Poppa,

inventor of National Pop Day.

Ya' Know What My Hubby Just Did?!?!

When I was first married, I worked in a secular environment

and was soon exposed to the American sport of
"Husband Bashing."

It wasn't for the purpose of learning how to be a better wife
and learn to deal with some of those "husband issues,"
it was to ridicule them.

In one year, Scott and I were one of five couples who got married.
The women who spoke highly of their husbands are still married.

Not scientifically calculated, just an observation.

It's easy to be a Christian testimony by just
not talking negatively
about your husband.

Easy to preach,

hard to do.

Like all of you,

my husband can drive me crazy!

In all fairness, I drive him crazy, too,

and that's why we came up with this simple rule

early in our marriage.

We promised to never talk about
one another in a negative fashion.

Personal problems, fights and experiences in marriage are only to be shared

after resolution for the purpose of ministry and encouragement.

I talk and blog about him only
when my heart is right and I really don't  secretly wish
he had chosen another course of action.
Once I learned to laugh and enjoy my husband's craziness,
it blossomed more.
He's the sunshine of our family,
even though he
has bad manners,
leaves messy trails,
has an addiction,
does Redneck Repairs,
feeds my kids a lot of sugar,
got a parking ticket,
and can't make cookies.

 But there are things I will never share.

Why Not to Talk:
1. We erode the foundation of our husband's spiritual headship
when we share his faults in front of others.
It may be harder for your children, relatives and other believers
to value him as they should if you've share too many failings.

(I'm not talking about covering up sin that should be disciplined,
I'm talking about normal, every day type struggles and habits.)

2.  Talking may keep us from praying.
Our main duty when we see a fault or a struggle,
is to talk to the Lord constantly about the issue.
Talking to someone makes you feel better,
but won't change your husband. 
If only the Holy Spirit can provide the solution,
why not tell only Him the problem?

3. When we verbally disagree with a decision he's made and do it our way,
we teach our kids to get their own way behind Dad's back.
If a child has grown up with a mom who scorns her husband's guidance
or secretly finds ways to run things her own way when he's at work,
a child will do the same.
They'll  smile pleasantly to Dad's face, but defy behind his back.

Women may gossip under the guise of
sharing prayer requests.

An older woman, Carol, gave me the best advice
for handling this misguided spiritual activity.
When a woman starts sharing something about her husband
that's making you uncomfortable, stop her and say,
"Let's pray about this right now."

If she's sincere, she just found someone faithful
 to walk her through her trials and help her build a stronger marriage.
If she's wanted to gossip,  she won't come to you again.


Women may not share prayer requests because

they fear gossip.

Some women really are in troubled marriages.
Unfortunately, we've known Christian husbands that have struggled with
drinking, faithfulness, anger and abuse.

Especially during the times that a husband  like this won't seek help,
a woman desperately needs help.
She may be slow in opening up, because she fears others will
skip the "prayer" and focus on sharing the "request."

When to talk:

If you've prayed, searched the Scriptures, talked with hubby

and still don't have answer concerning how you should be handling your
part of the problem, you may need Biblical advice and encouragement.

Choose a woman you and your husband are comfortable with,

 who knows the Scriptures, won't share your confidences and will

 forgive your husband without holding a grudge.

(Unfortunately, there may be times is a woman's life,
when her health and  spiritual welfare are in danger
 and she needs to confide without her husband's approval or knowledge.)

Why To Talk

When you want to build up your husband,
teach your children what a good father they have,
make single women jealous :),
be a good testimony,
give a good spiritual example,
or make someone laugh,
then you  can tell hubby stories.

Then you have the right to exclaim,
"Ya' Know What My Hubby Just Did?"


**********
Other blogs in a similar line

Dad, That's Not the Way You Do That!

What If Daddy IS Wrong?

**********

My Husband's Mid-Life Crisis

Some of you know my husband's name is Scott.

Some of you know that my husband is getting older.

We're the same age, but he is 8 months older.

In my mind, that's way older.

At 47, I guess we're officially middle-aged.

He's just more middle-aged than me.

Remember, he's way older?

He's having a mid-life crisis.

I'm seeing the signs.

There are things about his life he wants to change.

Some men buys sports cars.

Some men start working out.

Some men get toupes.

Not my man.

When we go out to eat,

on those rare date nights,

I know it's almost time to

"belly-up-to-the-bar" when the teen-age waitress hollers,

"Jack, table for two,

JACK!"

Yep, he wants to change his name to

Jack.

He bemoans we didn't name one of our sons Jack.

He wonders out loud if he could get away with a legal name change.

It gets really bad when he dreams about me changing my name to Jill.

Just when I was getting used to my hubby of 25 years being called

JACK,

he began showing other fruit of his aging crisis.

He went into a store.

A store he's never gone into before.

A store where he doesn't really belong.

He bought something he's never bought before.

Something that isn't the usual thing a man of his integrity would buy.

In the store people were eyeing him with curious snickers.

I was actually getting a little uncomfortable.

I tell ya', this middle-age crisis thing is getting a little dangerous.

I'm a little worried about what he's gunna' do next.

Yea, that's his Monkey, Jack.

Jack is wearing,

(I have to whisper this part) - whitie tidies,

(back to my normal voice)

jeans and a flannel shirt.

Jack is from Minnesota, can ya' tell?

Jack was eyeing the fishing outfit,

but he'll have to get that later.

Ya' know I was describing Monkey Jack's clothes,

not Hubby Jack's clothes, right? 

Right.

I think he was feeling left out with all the adventures

Rebekah and I have with our Build-A-Bear Monkies.

Speaking of feeling left out,

Daddy let her help.

I think it soothed that uncomfortable feeling that all

the other kids in the store were getting toys,

not watching their Dad splurge.

(don't mind the pics, those cell phone things aren't high quality)

Daddy Jack picked out the clothes, but she got to dress Baby Jack.

Daddy Jack a little incredulous over his momentary weakness.

After all, this is a man used to buying things with

power cord and engines, not stuffing and a tail.

Formerly, this man's happiest day,

next to marrying me,

 was the day he bought his Stihl chainsaw.

How well I remember his thrill, 

"Honey, it's a STIHL.  A REAL STIHL."

I think he had a tremor in his voice,

he was so awestruck with his good fortune.

He's a Minnesota boy through and through.

That day, he was so happy he just began cutting stuff up.

See why I call this a crisis?

He goes from Minnesota woodsman to stuffed animal owner?

Buying toys is my normal behavior, not his.

I guess if the neighbors hear the chain saw in the next few weeks,

 they better beware.

It will be the prelude for Lumber Jill's mid-life crisis.

********
Follow me over to Kim's for more laughs!

WHY DO WE BUY TOYS?!?!

Hubby and I have asked ourselves this many times over the years.

You buy an awesome Christmas present,

the kid plays with the box.

You order an awesome birthday present,

the kid plays with the bubble wrap.

You splurge on cool outside toys,

they play with
Sticks and Rocks and Mud.
When they get tired of sticks and rocks and mud,
they entertain themselves.

However, if we wrapped up
Sticks and Rocks and Mud

in rolls of bubble wrap and

taped it up in a big box

to give a kid for  Christmas or a birthday,

they wouldn't be happy.

They would want a cool toy.

Still, for two and a half decades of parenting,

hubby and I have asked ourselves,

"WHY DO WE BUY THE KIDS TOYS?"

Case in point.

We go to a cool beach on the Puget Sound for a family picnic.

I pack a large basket full of very exciting outdoor toys for the big kids.

They get ignored.

Instead, the kids creatively make up their own fun.

Bethany spearheads the "Balancing Act" game.

In case you didn't know, a log is an overgrown stick.

Grace attempts balancing on an extra long log.

Is it cheating if you use a stick to balance on a log?

Hey, Moms, notice they don't outgrow the

"Adopt A Stick" game?

Beka takes on the challenge.

Jon joined the game, but spent most of his time

leaping instead of balancing.

Grace changes the game to

"See Who Can Find the Best Marshmallow Roasting Stick."

Can't  ya' hear her triumphant cry,

"I Win, Oh, Yea!"

to the tune of

"Squid Launcher, Oh Yea!"

Jon participated in a boy's favorite pastime,

"Throwing Rocks."

Beka played,

"Let's See how Long I can Walk in 58degree Water."

Not very long.

She loved digging her toes in the mud along the edges.

See what I mean?
Sticks and Rocks and Mud

keep them happy.

While they waded, balanced and threw,

Daddy rested.

After roasting dinner, they tired of
Sticks and Rocks and Mud

so they invented a new game.

"Leap Over Your Sister In a Single Bound."

Little Sister joined the game,

but didn't quite master the leap OVER part.

Big Sister added a new dimension to the game.

It became

 "Leap Over Your Sister In a Single Bound While Catching the Aerobie."

Yea, they finally touched a toy.

Then they started playing with the picnic tables.

"Let's See If We Can Jump From Table to Table

Without Touching the Ground."

Made it!

Can't you just hear them double-dog daring each other?

While they jumped over, around, into,  and on top of things,
Daddy rested.

So back to that original question,

WHY DO WE BUY THEM TOYS?

Because I, that's me, wave to the shadow,

like buying them toys.

I like to give my children good things.

As we begin the annual countdown to Christmas,

yea, don't panic, but it's three months away,

I plan on buying toys.

I will wrap them with bubble wrap and place them in boxes.

The kids will play with the bubble wrap and boxes,

but I will be happy I bought them toys.

Because I like toys.

I like giving good things.

Even if they don't like a present I pick out,

I keep buying them presents.

Even if they don't use a present I pick out,

I keep buying them presents.

Even if they don't keep a present I pick out,

I keep buying them presents.

You're like that, too?

Do ya' know who we take after?

Our Father.

Matthew 7:11

If you then, being evil,

know how to give good gifts to your children,

how much more will your Father who is in heaven

 give good things to those who ask Him!

Yea, that's where I get my example.

We may be like Him in the desire to give good things,

but our jesting desire to wrap up

Sticks and Rocks and Mud

doesn't come from Him.

The verse just prior tells us

 Matthew 7:9

Or what man is there among you who,

if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone?

Even if we're content to play with life's

Sticks and Rocks and Mud,

He's still determined to give us good things.

Isn't He an amazing Heavenly Father?

The Tom Sawyer Trick Still Works

This dream

playhouse

needed some serious Tom Sawyer attention.

One  sunny Saturday,

one trip to Home Depot with hubby,

and one eager little painter.

Yea, as soon as we mentioned painting,

she was all over it.

She wanted to paint.

We hemmed and hawed and made a big deal about

wanting the paint job to be nice.

It worked.

It increased her desire.

Teenagers don't want to paint.

So, we've learned to let 'em paint while they still think it's exciting.

You just can't be that picky about their effort.

Count on the help getting paint all over.

As I've learned from previous painting experiences,

you have to grit your teeth through the process,

and cheer on the outcome.

Seriously, close your eyes and grit your teeth.

It won't be pretty,

but it will be done.

Never criticize the help, never.

They might not help again.

See?  Not pretty.

One messy painter who wasn't criticized.

Laughed at, but not criticized.

One eager neighbor was added to the equation.

As soon as he saw Rebekah having all the fun,

he had to join in.

One cool Home Depot hat was all it took

to get him to stir the paint.

One painter's trick I learned from my  brothers, Joel and Allan.

You pound holes into that little ledge so the paint drips back into the can.

You already knew that?

Sorry.

I learned it late in life.

One window installer...

who also fell for the Tom Sawyer ploy and painted the window trim.

One door installed while the painter retires her brush for

her Laura Ingalls' bonnet and pretending with neighbor, Norah.

One more stage of the

Playhouse Project

completed.

It's finished enough to enjoy through the rainy season

and we'll work on the porch and the interior as time and inspiration allows.

One more skill taught,

One more family memory,

and

One very happy little girl.