It's the Little Things that Count

Several times a year, my husband takes me to a writing conference

to learn the craft and meet published and aspiring writers.

He makes arrangements at a nice hotel,

we eat at restaurants,

and enjoy a weekend get-away.

This past weekend we were in Portland

to hear Clint Kelly keynote for the Oregon Christian Writers.

Sometimes, I still get this

"pinch me, it can't be real" sensation

when I'm in a fancy, grown-up situation.

Ya' know, we're still pretty much

Red Necks

at heart.

Despite the presence of the Concierge in the foyer,

(that's FOY-AY, if you've watched Princess Diaries)

the Valet at the door to park your car and open your door,

(I'm not a feminist, I let them open the door for me)

and the fanciness all around,

that's not what makes my heart go pitter-patter.

It's those little things that make me happy.

Believe it or not,

this was really thrilling to me.

It was like an extra special welcome to my hotel room.

I had to pull it out and see how it was done.

Impressive.

I worried,  wondering if it was considered

"wasting toilet paper"

if I threw away the accordion piece instead of using it.

Don't tell my parents, k?

Raising six kids on a teacher's and a secretary's schedule,

they had to have financial guidelines for the house,

including strict rules about how much tp we could use.

The pattern was repeated with a washcloth and hand towel on the tub.

Yea, I'm pretty simple to be enthralled with these details.

My muse on these little things began taking a shape

of its own, when I began thinking about my life.

It's also

The Little Things 

 that thrill our families.

It's easy to think life is about the big moments,

the extensive family vacations,

the expensive presents,

planned holiday celebrations and

bigger homes and newer cars.

When I listen to my older kids talk,

their favorite memories are usually mundane

occurrences that didn't even register in my memory bank.

A quick survey made this list.

The kids love ~

*Mom or Dad acting out of character

*playing Spoons

*snowmobiling

*family dinners

*building snow forts

*family roller-blading adventures

*trips to Tastee Freeze

*4-wheeling

They didn't mention anything related to money,

getting what they wanted for birthdays and Christmases,

big purchases or any of the trips we've taken.

The two main ingredients in all their favorite memories?

1. The whole family participated.

2. Everyone was happy.

My husband doesn't collect anything,

doesn't want anything,

never needs anything.

Coming up with gifts for this man is hard,

but living with him on a daily basis is easy.

For him,

it's always

The Little Things That Count.

He loves ~

*his scalp scratched, nothing relaxes him more

than having my fingers run through his hair

*when I call him at work just to say "I love you"

not

 "dwanna' know whatcher' naughty kids just did?"

*being complimented

*when I repeat things I've learned from him

After 25 years of marriage

and 24 years of parenting,

I still remind myself what's important.

When life gets faster and busier,

it's easy to say NO to  little things.

Sometimes I think I'm too busy to

go for walks,

sit around the table after dinner to talk,

play games or

watch a movie.

But, that little thing 

 might become one of their favorite memories.

I want my kids to look back on these moments

we've shared as a family with the same I awe I had

when I beheld the accordion folded toilet paper.

It's The Little Things That Count.

never been jilted

Romance fiction writers like the jilted theme.
Romance fiction readers like the jilted theme.
It feels kinda' good to sob your way through someone else's misery.

We're incredulous and horrified that a woman would be jilted,
especially at the altar.

The jilted lover learns that

weeping and begging won't bring their loved one back.
They're gone forever.

The man who jilted her leaves her powerless.
During her journey to find strength within herself,
 she stumbles and falls until she
 puts together enough pieces of her heart
 to go on with life.

With the Lord,

it's the other way around.

He find us when we're powerless.
Romans 5:8

 But God shows His own love to us,
  while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

He provides the strength we need when broken.
2 Corinthians 12:9

And He said,
“My grace is sufficient for you,
for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”


He never leaves us.
Hebrews 13:5
“I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

He doesn't leave us at our lowest point,

that's when he hovers
 nearer and
 nearer and
nearer.

Even when we're unfaithful,

our righteously jealous God

is still faithful.
*

He never stops loving us.
*

Think about that.

We've heard this since we were young,

"Jesus loves me,

this I know,

for the Bible,

tells me so."

just for a moment,

really bask in that.

This is the only part of the poem we need to quote....

He loves me...

He loves me...

He loves me...
*

Nobody will be able to watch our life stories

and sob over our heartache,

hoping and praying we'll find strength to carry on.

If we know Him as our Savior,
we'll always be able to claim we've


"never been jilted."

You Got the Power?

I was trying to teach Rebekah the

Multiplication Facts.

 I love math,

and I love teaching,

but I needed more power.

I needed

Flower Power.

I'd love you to follow me over to

tUeSdAy aT

hOmE tEaChEd

to find out how
a flower

brought the

power

and kept math class from being

sour.

I know that rhyme was lame.

My idea wasn't though...

c'mon over...

Last. Minute. Miracle.

I want to shout

AMEN

and

HALLELUJAH

to the Lord!

He is SO good to His people.

Friday, October 7th,  I blogged about My Heavy Heart.

By Saturday, all of us close to

The Innocent Man,

falsely accused and facing  up  to 60 years in jail,

had peace before the Lord.

We were ready to face the upcoming trial. 

Monday, we were feeling the Lord would work a miracle.

We thought we knew how He would work.

But, Monday was just another day.

Nothing  happened in the case,

let alone anything we could deem miraculous.

We kept praying.

Monday night I went to bed in deep prayer,

and began Tuesday with prayer

and a knot in my stomach.

It was the day they were choosing the jury.

I love America,

I believe in the jury system,

but when an innocent person I love is going to have

their future decided by  12 strangers,

I discovered my faith in the system wasn't that strong.

In fact, it was weak.

I had to remind myself over and over
 to trust in the Lord.

As I was waiting, praying and waiting Tuesday morning,

I received a phone call.

I can't share details so I waited to blog about it,

 but I can tell you this;

new evidence of innocence was found -

physical evidence.

The trial was postponed until January so we can ask the judge

to allow us to use this evidence in the trial.

They will also reinterview the accuser.
This is crucial.
Please pray!

We're praying the Prosecutor

will dismiss the case.

We're praying he'll see the truth.

From the beginning we've prayed
the truth would be told,
the truth would be heard,
the truth would be believed.

With the miraculous answer to prayer,
we're relieved,

we're humbled,

and we're blessed.

Just when I thought my heart would fail in unbelief,

even crying out to the Lord to not let my lack of faith affect the outcome,

the Lord was still faithful,

just as His Word promises.

2 Timothy 2:13

If we are faithless,

He remains faithful;

He cannot deny Himself.

I know I have to be willing for this to end any way the Lord chooses,

but I was really wrestling with the fact that an Innocent Man could go to jail.

Like many others, I know you want to remind me about Joseph,

but when that Joseph is someone you know and love,

it is a much harder story to accept.

But, the Lord is faithful,

when His people have no faith.

He answers prayer,

when they only come out with sobs and tears.

He loves His people,

who come to Him barely able to reciprocate His love.

Like others who have experienced

 last minute miracles,

we're encouraged.

We're ready to wait on the Lord as the tribulation

continues on.

We're confident that the good work the Lord began will be finished....

...in His way

...in His timing

...for His glory.

Do you remember the verse the Lord gave me

in February when this began?

I know He walks before us
and He never asks us to walk a path
He hasn't walked first.

We're strengthened by His answer to our feeble prayers.

With you dear readers praying us through,
we're ready for the final journey,
trusting in the God who works
Last
Minute
Miracles.

 

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!

I JUST NEED 24 HOURS...

I found myself wishing,

as I shut my eyes for two minutes inbetween

 finishing school with one child and picking up another child from college,

 I could have an extra

24 hours

in a day.

Just one extra day, I don't ask for much.

Only I would get that extra time,

nobody else in the world, especially my children.

They'd be in a time warp where they couldn't

make any more messes,

eat any more groceries,

dirty any more clothes,

take any more scissors or tape,

or ask me any other questions.

Speaking of questions, while I was pondering this miracle in my mind,

 another child, who was finishing homework asked,

"M-ah-ah-ahm,what's for dinner?"

The longer it takes him to say my name, the hungrier he is.

In my mind I was thinking, "Dude, the same as every night, I don't know!"

Instead I politely mumbled, "I don't know."

I went back to dreaming about that extra

24 hours

 all to myself.

What would I do? 

Sleep? 

No, that would be a waste of time.

Eat?

No,  I'm the one who wants the Wonka pill.

I wouldn't waste time eating, except for chocolate,

and I can eat chocolate along with

 whatever I do in my extra

24 hours.

What do I really want?

My house to be in order.

I want all my stuff to have a place

and all my stuff to be in its place.

I want my life to function  as smoothly

 as in the magazines.

When the kids were little, I was in total control.

 The house was clean, three meals were done, one or two loads of laudry done each day.

All that sleeping little kids do made this easy.

As the kids aged, their interests had to be added to my calendar.

Instead of cleaning my bathroom every day (yes I did that during cloth diaper days),

I've been wondering when was the last time I really cleaned it.  

 I don't mean the Lysol wipe clean, but the real clean.

I just want my house in order.

That extra 24 hours, I know it won't happen.  It's not logical.

But, I  always have 15 minutes. 

I learned that lesson years ago. I can always find 15 minutes each day.

I'm gunna' make a list of things that need to be done

and carve out a mere 15 minutes a day.

I like lists. 

This could work.

365 x 15 =5475 minutes saved in a year

1440 minutes each day

3.8 extra days each year.

What?

Not even four days a year gained?

That's not enough.

 Too much effort, for too little outcome.

I think I'm gunna' go back to just

dreaming

about that

 extra 24 hours a day.

Clean and organized houses are overrated anyway,

right?

Right?

Right!

Instead, I'll throw away those magazines

and finish my nap.

I plan on sleeping longer than 15 minutes......

maybe

24 hours.

But, MOM, I Neeeeeeeeed a Horse!

Like most young girls, Beka longs for a horse.

More than longs, she begs for a horse.

Her Daddy, being the kind and kinda' crazy man he is,

once promised her a pony if she never got married

 and lived with us forever.

OK, she was five at the time,

but he doesn't understand the power of words.

She heard the promise of the horse.

At five, she wasn't interested in marital status,

so pledging to be single to be a cowgirl meant nothing to her.

As she grows up, she  now realizes that maybe,

just maybe,

she might want to get married after all.

She wants kids, and she knows she needs a husband,

so the dilmena is pretty big in her 9 year old mind.

But, she really, really, really wants that horse Dad "promised."

"But, Mom, he promised!"

Like wives occasionally have to do,

I had to step up to the plate for my hubby.

I tried explaining to Beka that Daddy was just kidding.

"He promised."

I tried explaining there wasn't enough room in our backyard for a horse.

"Uh, huh, we can get rid of the trampoline."

 I tried explaining there were rules against having a horse in the city.

"Then we can move into the country."

I tried explaining and explaining and explaining.

That girl just wanted a horse.

So, like all good moms,

I got her a horse.

I found this lovely thing on the curb.

For free.

Who in their right mind would want this?

Then I bought this for $2. 

The stick was broken in half.

Who in their right mind would want a Stick Horse with a broken stick?

Combine those two things,

with this little Hubby Dun Did the Honey Do Thing....

and a little spray paint and you have

a

horse.

Can you believe,

I don't have a picture of the horse?

You have to use your imagination,

like I did to make it.

I assure you, it looks real.

I'm sure the neighbors might call the city on me

for unlawfully boarding a horse in the city.

With some boards and two folding chairs,

the horse pulls a wagon.

With a gun and a bandana,

the horse helps catch Bad Guys.

With a little spiritual dreaming on my part,

it's a tangible reminder of a great promise.

Proverbs 21:31

 The horse is prepared for the day of battle,

But deliverance is of the LORD.

Seriously, when I see horses,

I think of this verse.

I'm not just trying to cram a spiritual lesson into a boring blog.

We like to think our own talents, abilities, wisdoms and even

our spiritual understanding and prayers bring  victory.

We're wrong.

Victory or deliverance, is from the Lord.

I don't know about your current situation,

but  some trials have made me cry to the Lord for

deliverance.

We have the easy part,

we prepare the horse.

The Lord's responsible for the hard part,

the deliverance.

Do you need deliverance?

I'd love to pray for you.

Share your heart,

the battle that's raging,

and allow me help prepare your horse for battle.

I'm good at

preparing horses.