"I Wish I Made Enough Money….

….to stay at home with my children."



I was standing in the line of a grocery store in Kansas. I had just spent almost two hours shopping with my three little children, because I had a pile of coupons, a week of meals to make and $35 to spend.  It was the early 90's. Even with lower grocery prices, it wasn't a lot of money.

I STARED in disbelief. I couldn't believe her guilt would cause her to speak  with such sarcastic false humility without knowing my circumstances.

In a glance I noticed her heavily jeweled, manicured fingers, her expensive, matching (AND minus baby throw-up) clothing, her unscuffed high heels, nylons, her makeup, her purse. I took it all in. She might "need" to work, but I knew she spent a lot of money, if that one heavily accessorized outfit was any indication of her spending habits. She looked beautiful, but she wasn't happy.

I didn't want to blab my husband's salary out, but he was a teacher in a private Christian school and we were paying 1/4 of our salary to student loans. I was pretty sure our monthly salary was easily what they made in a week.

I polished my own fingernails.
My husband trimmed my hair and I had only 1 perm in 10 years.  (for the fashion of this decade, this was a sacrifice.)
I wore only hand-me downs and thrift store items.
I had never purchased anything new for my kids to wear at this point in my life.
I bought nylons once a year and washed them by hand to make them last.
I used the cheapest make-up and hair products I could find.
I sewed some of my kids' clothes from $1 a yard fabric.

I don't remember my exact words, but after processing the absurdity of her speculation, I let her know it was a spiritual decision to stay at home, not a financial one. I let her know we were choosing to raise our kids according to the Bible.

The cashier was a little more honest as she entered the conversation about my SAHM status.

"I don't stay at home with my kids, cuz I couldn't stand to. I mean, I love my kids, but they drive me crazy. When they're home at the holidays, I can hardly wait until they go back to school. But, you're a much more patient person, that's good that you stay at home with your kids. You're such a good mom."

I didn't stay at home because I was patient, either, although I appreciated her kind comment.

I have always been a Stay At Home Mom because I believe the Bible teaches it.

As a new believer, 18 and in college, I was searching for all those big answers in life. I remember rejoicing to discover that the Bible covered topics such as marriage, parenting, worrying, working and church structure. I diligently searched for answers, and the Lord graciously had already supplied them. It gave me guidance for decisions concerning my future.

Titus 2:3-5
"The aged women ... teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed."

As much as that woman's comment went deep into my soul, I wasn't angered, I was offended, I wasn't defensive. I was sad for her.

I also stay at home because I love my kids and want to be with them.

All those sacrifices were, and continue to be,  worth it. I NEVER look back and think about what I couldn’t buy, the plain food we ate, or the inexpensive clothing we wore. The Lord provided sufficiently and we were joyously happy in the Lord's work and content with what He had provided.
I look back and cherish holding those babies.  I remember staring in their precious little faces, trying to imprint it on my mind and heart, knowing that each day they changed and grew.

I cherish being the one to see every first in their life.

I cherish the sweet memoring of playing with them, sleeping in tents with them, and teaching them them to craft, to cook, to sew, to paint, to create, to read, to garden, to ride a bike, jump rope, do a cartwheel, play games, cut with scissors...

I hugged and kissed  them every day. I looked into their eyes. I talked to them about the Savior. I read the Bible to them. I read books to them.

I cherished them.

Now, I cherish the memories when they were young and sometimes weep that those busy years are now fleeting memories.  When I see a young mom with all her little ones filling up her grocery cart, I am a little wistfully jealous.  I miss those years, because I loved being with all my children.
Today, I wonder about  that jeweled woman, who spoke with bitter jealousy, and what memories she revisits.

Somehow, I think she also looks back on her life  and weeps.

But, my heart tells me,  her tears are tears of regret.

"Lord, I just pray for this dear woman who impacted my life and heart so many years ago. I long for her to have peace and joy and slavation.  I ask you to comfort her, to hear her cries and answer her prayers.  Bless her, Lord.  Amen."




This blog is joining the list of bloggers participating in  Motivate Me Monday sponsored by The Fifth Street Mama.  Stop by and get motivated by other Blommies! 

My Kids are hOmE tEaChEd

My kids are homeschooled.

According to my son, Daniel, he tells people he was

"hometeached" or "housetrained."

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

I've actually had people correct me when I say hometeached.

"You mean homeschooled."

I guess some people don't have a stench of humor.

Join me today on my other blog

hOmE tEaChEd

to see our recent homeschool activities.

We made

BRAIN HATS

and a

PRINCESS E

I would love to hear any additional ideas these posts inspire.  It seems an idea can always be improved upon.

I Choose to Like the Hated Mondays

Why do we dislike Mondays?


The weekend is over.
We are back to work/school.
We will be ruled by routine instead of unstructured free time.
Our annoying alarm clocks are set again.
We have five whole days to survive before we get another weekend.

Mondays have a feel. They have a little bit of anxiety. We're disappointed that Monday isn't Friday. We unabashedly play favorites to the children of the week.


Mondays are
rainy days
cereal without a prize
a missing earring
email forwards instead of personal emails
missed phone calls
a broken fingernail
spilled coffee
a few extra pounds
cake without frosting
dull knives
expired coupons
a parking ticket

They are just there, without the zing of Friday. They have to be lived and survived. Since there are 52 of them during the year, we need to overcome that strong dislike of Mondays.

HOW?

I guess we each have to answer for ourselves, because we probably each have a different reasons why we dislike Mondays.

Awhile back, I realized I just wasn't ready for Mondays. We relaxed so much that the house was messy. Mt. Washmore. Old Mother Hubbard cupboards. Monday would hit like a whiteout blizzard I knew was coming, but chose not to prepare for.

Imagine starting another week of homeschooling and hearing on Monday morning, "MAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAM…..I don't have any clean underwear and we're out of milk."

The next kid would add their line to the unrehearsed play. "MAWAWAWAWAWAWM, I don't have any clean jeans and I can't find a pencil anywhere!"

Before I could even slurp down enough coffee to fortify myself, more voices would be echoing in my head. It was like being inside a bass drum and every mallet whack was another demand on a groggy mom.

"Has anybody seen my Algebra book!"

"There's no toilet paper in this bathroom!"

"Who took my calculator?"

"Who ate the rest of my favorite cereal?"

I decided that my Mondays had to begin on Friday. Since Friday has a happy feel, it didn't bother me to add a few chores to it, knowing that I would have the WHOLE weekend ahead of me to relax.

Mondays are my main laundry day, but I began doing a load or two on Friday, making sure that Sunday clothes are clean and enough things were clean for Monday. I make sure hubby has a few ironed shirts for the next week.

Friday afternoon we put school away MOMMY'S WAY. There is the KIDS' WAY and there is MOMMY'S WAY. On Friday, there is no alternative, no give, no softening, no mind-changing. Books and supplies are put in proper places. School work is filed. Work areas will be ready for Monday.

Sometime during the weekend, I do a quick grocery run, just to make sure I am ready for the Sunday meal and Monday. I check the household inventory, and if something is out, I restock if it is crucial. If not, I add it to the grocery list on the fridge.

Sunday evening, we all run around the house just putting things away. Those things that pile up because it is the weekend and you are relaxing.

We had to learn that the weekend relaxation and enjoyment could not be at the expense of the productivity and emotional well-being of the coming week. You still might not want to do the dishes, but rinse them and stack them in the sink. You might not want to do the laundry, but sort it or put it in the hamper. Make a few compromises on your routine, but not so many that you will pay for it the rest of the week.

I also go to bed reminding myself that the next day is Monday and things will go wrong. It is the nature of the least favorite child clamoring for attention. I prepare my attitude in anticipation of dealing with whatever traumy rears its ugly head on the day that is five days away from the weekend.

Now, Monday has a feel. Not a type-A perfectionist type feel, I had to abandon that somewhere after baby #6, who was  followed by three moves and two bouts of cancer and one miscarriage. It has the type AB feel, I am organized, but in a more relaxed, not rigid, manner.
We all know "If Momma Ain't Happy, Ain't Nobody Happy."

Well, this Momma is happy, because this Momma is ready for Monday.

Who knows, maybe someday I will come to love Mondays.

I said "maybe"....


(Mr. Linky will join this blog to Making Your Home Sing Monday sponsored by Nan at Mom's The Word. Drop over and see what the other Moms have to say about their Mondays!)

MM Meditation - The Thorns of the Crucifixion

As our Lord walked this earth, He came in touch with three items that He would encounter again on His day of crucifixion - the scourge, the thorns and the robe.


As He encounters each item, He attacks the lies and the false relgion that it represents.


Each of these items revisited Him in a painful way, yet He died, was buried and rose victorious over the symbols and the sin, and presented a simple way for mankind to shed off all the man-made trappings of religion and approach the God of Heavens for salvation, simply by faith.

THORNS (Religion with no Fruit)

There are two appearances of thorns in the New Testament. Introduced in Genesis as a curse from the Fall of man thorns remind us of the bitter entrance of sin into the world. First, they are used as a preaching tool for the Lord Jesus and then as a tool of punishment and mockery by the Roman soldiers.

In Matthew 7, the famously misunderstood chapter on judgment, the Lord gives the instruction for judging. It isn't forbidden, it is outlined. After you make sure you aren't guilty of the same sin, you deal with your brother's sin. The Lord Jesus then instructs on judgment against false prophets. We are to judge those claiming allegiance with the Lord for fruit.

Matthew 7:15-20

15 Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.
16 You shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?
17 Even so every good tree brings forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree brings forth evil fruit.
18 A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.
19 Every tree that brings not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire.
20 Wherefore by their fruits you shall know them.

The Lord strongly chastised  the false prophets for being fruitless thorns. His words were as sharp as the plant he was preaching about.

A few chapters later in Matthew 13, in the parable of the sower, He speaks prophetically of how the fruitless thorns choke out the Word. In verse 22 He lists the "thorns" as and the care of this world and the deceitfulness of riches. His strong warning is against hearing the Word and not obeying it.

Those thorns show up at the end of his ministry as a cruel reminder that many did not heed His Word.


John 19:2 And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and put it on His head

The   soldier hands that  twisted  the thorns into a crown to mock the Savior were pierced during their fruitless endeavor, but the Savior's Hands were willingly pierced by nails  giving up His life on the Cross.


Meant to mock all the Truth the Lord had preached, the crown of thorns instead perfectly symbolized the fruitless life of false prophets. It was the proof that all He had preached was true.

There was no fruit in their cruel acts, but the Lord Jesus bore fruit as He died, was buried and rose victoriously. All that trust in the Lord Jesus for salvation will be brought to Heaven in a glorious harvest of souls.

 As the blood dripped from His thorn-pierced brow, were the soldiers, the religious leaders and the jeering masses reminded of His lessons on false prophets?  Did any remember and quiver at His words about the cares of the world, the deceitfulness of  riches and pleasures of this life?

Did they see the thorns and tremble that the evil fruit of their hearts and lives was twisted upon His head?

They had heard, but did not obey.

Today, we must not bring that crown of shame, of fruitless religion,  again to the Lord's brow. If we heed His warnings by hearing and obeying the Word of God, we will be known by our good fruit.


(Read the Scourge of the Crucifixion)

This blog will be participating in  Sarah's Motivate Me Monday at The Fifth Street Palace

Through The Car Window Glass - MONTANA

I love to be outside.

I love the Lord's creation.

I love to take pictures to capture His glories.

When I am inside a car, I still want to take pictures.

I don't want the glass and the moving vehicle

to come between my camera and the view I am experiencing.

I just don't see creation, I feel it, I hear it.

You see, Creation preaches a message.

Romans 1:20

For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities

—his eternal power and divine nature—

have been clearly seen,

 being understood from what has been made,

so that men are without excuse.

As I watch each the scenery unfolding at a rapid pace through the finger-printed windows,

and I am hearing His voice,

 I always want to capture something of the experience.

So, I shoot through the window glass. 

Usually, I shoot through my side. 

Other times, I might quickly say to my husband,

"Lean back!"

He does.

Isn't he nice?

Someday, he wants to blog about what it's like to be married to a blogger.

I've been keeping files of my favorite "Through The Window Pictures."

(click to enlarge any picture)

On the way to Montana last fall.

Can you see why Montana is called The Big Sky?

It's big.

It's blue.

It's brilliant.

It is NOT Photoshopped.

No, he didn't duck.  I was driving.

I know.

Don't try this at home.

I'm an experienced non-professional.

It is my favorite shot from the whole year.

These rocks remind me of a Creation Scientist

I heard from the Institute of Creation Research. 

He talked about the upheaval in the earth's crust because of the Flood. 

Here, the earth's layers have been twisted vertically.

I always love to imagine what is around the corner.

A curve in the road,

a bend in a creek,

are both enticing,

making me wonder what's ahead.

In anticipation, I keep my camera ready.

Another train.

Another moment captured.

Through the glass.

I'm listening, Lord.

New Kid Messing With Moses in the Kitchen

Whenever I want to teach poetry to my adorable, beloved children, they inevitably moan and groan.  They have the initial knee-jerk reaction most people have, until they learn to appreciate the intricacies of meter, rhyme and all that other poetic stuff.

To turn knee-jerk to knee-slap, I begin with the book The New Kid on the Block by Jack Prelutsky, drawings by James Stevenson. We have used and loved the cover right off this beauty.

The New Kid on the Block
There's a new kid on the block,
and boy, that kid is tough,
that new kid punches hard,
that new kid plays real rough,
that new kid's big and strong,
with muscles everywhere,
that new kid tweaked my arm,
that new kid pulled my hair.

That new kid likes to fight,
and picks on all the guys,
that new kid scares me some,
(that new kid's twice my size),
that new kid stomped my toes,
that new kid swiped my ball,
that new kid's really bad,
I don't care for her at all.


This past year, I was excited to find  Don't Mess with Moses by Marty Nystrom, author of many of today's worship songs, including the much loved As The Deer. He gives a  ride from Creation to Jonah with Shel Shilverstein type of poetry, giving the Scriptural reference for each poem.  The book is wonderfully illustrated by Steve Bjorkman and printed by Standard Publishing.  Nystrom is currently working on his NT edition, so I am waiting to see that in print.


Absalom
Absalom was a handsome prince
with a head full of beautiful curls.
Perfectly styled, his hair was piled
much higher than any girl's.

Not only was his hair poofed up,
his pride was puffed up too;
the pompous prince, so self-impressed,
was proud of his poodle-do.

While galloping through the woods one day,
as he was waging war,
a leafy limp reached out to him
and grabbed his pompadour.

Of course his horse was starteld
and left him dangling there.
The proud young man then met his end,
hanging by his hair.

If Absalom were here right now,
I'm sure that he would say
that his was the first
(and the world's very worst)
BAD HAIR DAY!

You can read about this character in 2 Samuel 18.



If you want to read this type of poetry on a blog each day, pop over to see what Jaime at Ditchin' the Kitchen is rhyming about.  I've been blessed and brought to giggles daily since I met her.

The Perfect Parent
Smells
My Brain


Reading is a great way to bond with our children, but reading and giggling, well, that's, as the commercials like to say, priceless.


And speaking of price, now that I've found these books on Amazon, maybe it's time I bought a hardback The New Kid on the Block.  Maybe it'll last through the grandkids.

I'm Earning My Crown

Proverbs 16:31, "The silver-haired head is a crown of glory,

if it be found in the way of righteousness.

When I began going gray at 29, I decided NOT  to dye my hair. Because I'm  blonde, my gray hair wasn't that noticeable, except when it stuck straight up like a loose wire on a sculpted porcupine. Add to that my natural laziness and the desire to NOT add one more thing on my list of “Things To Do that Need To Be Done Over and Over” it was a no-brainer decision.

I have run into several complications. My own Mother has lighter hair color than I do.  She winters in Arizona, so six months of sunshine does wonders for her blonde hair.  I live in the PNW where we only dream that somewhere over the rainbow, there is sunshine. It occurred to me early on that I could end up  looking like my mother’s mother instead of my mother’s daughter.

The other complication? Nobody warned me that gray hair doesn’t always grow in evenly, or all at once. I have a streak down the left side of my head. It’s not even in a place where I can spread the joy onto the other side of my head, like a woman’s version of the Comb-Over. I have  new hair growing in on the underside that is wavy and slightly reddish-blondish, but more reddish than blondish. When my hair is wet and those stubborn curly red  on the underside and wire-straight gray hairs on the top are protruding through the still-wet naturally blonde hair, I have this vile look like a dark poodle is trying to grow on my scalp.

My girls keep saying, “M –ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-m, just blow dry your hair then flat iron it. It will look SO nice.”

(You know, the longer it takes them to say your name is the measure of either how frustrated they are or how much money it is going to cost you when they finally finish saying your name and ask for what they want.)

 But, what they are asking sounds like the worst form of torture to me. Spend  time blow-drying my hair and then, basically, ironing it? Why? So I can look like them? No Way! The only thing worse than a mom acting like a teenager is a mom trying to look like a teenager.  I may stoop to acting like one, but I will not look like one.

So, when I see this verse, I am reminded that the gray is really good. You see, this mess on my head, that is slowly turning a teensy bit more gray with each trial, trauma and year etched in my soul, is a reflection of something I cherish deep in my heart. My choice to not dye my hair isn't just because of time and money, even though that plays a part. I choose to not dye my hair because it is a reflection of a spiritual desire to earn the gray. It can be a  crown of glory if “it be found in the way of righteousness.”

Just because you are old doesn’t mean you are wise and just because you are gray doesn’t mean you are righteous. There are plenty of old, gray fools that lead unrighteous lives, and sad to say, some are in the body of believers.

As each situation arises that would stress my soul and bring on the gray, I purpose to trust in the Lord, rest in the Lord and cling to His Word and His promises, so that I learn wisdom as I age.  At the end of my life I want to be found in the way of righteousness, so stuff on top is  not just a frizzled, spiky sign of being on earth a long, long, long time, but is a crown of glory.

I also decided to stop pulling those random gray strands that wave good morning in the mirror.

I gotta stop messing with the crown in progress.