Joy to Spare

I have learned a few very valuable things over the 12 years since I met God. One of my favorites, which has brought so much peace into my life, is what it truly means to not judge others. I think it has taken me so long to learn this one because I needed to have my share of big screw-ups to really appreciate the effects that our fallen world can have on a person. I wish I could remember who said, "Only God knows the whole story about anyone." Before I think negatively about someone, I try to put myself in their shoes. When a car full of rascals pumping way-too-loud, obscenity-filled music passes by my children, I try not to stare daggers at them, but remember what it was like to be a teenager when your world revolves around only yourself and all that matters is figuring out how to be cool and fit in. When the lady in front of me in the grocery line sends the bagger to the back of the store for different eggs, then sorts through her coupons for 5 minutes after her groceries ha

The other day at (you guessed it) the library, the boys and I were back in the board book section when I turned around in panic to see Big Bro walking quickly past the children's tables toward the exit, book in hand. He was saying something to me in his usual quiet voice, and the low buzz from the packed kids' section made it impossible for me to hear him. I sprinted after him, leaving Little Bro alone in the baby book area, fully expecting to return later to see every single book on the floor. I caught up with Big Bro quickly; he was just reaching the end of the children's section, and I asked him where he was going. "I'm yooking for an empty table," he said. What an eye opener. My child is no longer the unpredictable toddler who runs out of the building with no warning. He is now the little boy who chooses a book and goes to find a table so he can sit and read. I am ridiculously proud of him, but it's bittersweet seeing him grow up. Soon enough no one wi

Speaking of taxes (last post), one of my favorite uses for all that money is the library. Another ingenious idea for which I am so thankful! I almost never buy books anymore. I discovered the merits of the library when we lived in Pasadena and don't plan to ever stop. You get to read all the books (watch all the videos, etc.) you want, except: You don't have to shop around for the best price. You don't have to pay for them. If you don't end up liking a book, you haven't wasted any money. The time limit motivates you to finish a book. You don't have to find space for them. You don't have to dust them. You don't have to pack and unpack them when you move. Less clutter, less waste. Sure, there are occasions to buy a book. Sometimes the library doesn't have certain ones, it usually takes a while to get newly published books, and it's nice to own reference books or ones that you re-read often. But for the most part, I am happy to have sparse bookshelv

All I need to know in life I learned from the Bible. But from what I can see, the Bible tells us how to be governed, as Christians, and how to be individuals and church leaders, but not how to govern an entire nation. (Before anyone tries to read "conservative" or "liberal" into my comments, I'm sorry to disappoint you... I claim no political party or position. I am only a child of God who is continually learning what it means to be a Christian first and an American second, and how the two relate.) Taxes... Is it a government's job to ensure its poor are taken care of by taking from the rich and giving to the poor? Or is it only the job of individuals to decide how and whether to sacrifice for the welfare of those less fortunate? I don't know, and I think there are many gray areas here. Education... Is it a government's job to decide what its children are required to be taught? Or is it the job of parents or schools? As a homeschooler, I obviously le

I was washing dishes yesterday when Big Bro came up and said to me, "I tell you a naughty thing." Uh-oh. Is Little Bro playing in the toilet again? Did Big Bro somehow learn a swear word? Has he Sharpie-d all over the wood floor again? My cringing mind cycled through the possibilities in the second before he said, "We don't go in the oven." *Sigh of relief.* That's right, Big Bro, I said. We don't go in the oven. Very good. I cherish these innocent moments in light of what I know I can expect in the future, when "I tell you a naughty thing" becomes, "Uh, Mom... I need to tell you something." As challenging as it is dealing with a preschooler and a toddler all day, I have a feeling I have no idea how easy I've got it!

Our pastor's sermon today was about the rich young ruler who loved money too much to give it up in favor of following Jesus. The money isn't evil, but loving it more than God is. It's not about money for all of us. For some it's pride, for others it's alcohol, the list goes on. My big hangup is sweets. Cookies, cake, brownies, candy, pie, ice cream, chocolate, you name it. Sounds innocuous enough, but an unhealthy preoccupation of any kind is - well, unhealthy. It keeps me from being fully devoted to the things of God and makes me a slave to worldly desire. "If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell." -Jesus (Matthew 5:30) Once a year, during Lent, I give up sweets. Not to punish or make myself miserable. But to remind myself that God is all I need. That He is bigger and stronger in my heart than a stupid box of Thin Mints. (Duh!) I take th

When I think of the ways I enjoy our Father's creation, sights come to mind first. Fat gray and pink sunrise clouds after it's rained all night. Late afternoon haze across the green shadowed hills. And then sounds. Mourning doves, thunder, frog song, little girl giggles. Then taste. Raspberries, olive oil, goat cheese, tears. Touch and smell are last to come to mind, but they are the most special, the most intimate. Those are how I most deeply experience God's ultimate creation, his children. I could sit alone indoors and still see a beautiful sunset or Big Bro's skinny little legs running around outside. I could lie alone in the dark and still hear the crickets' call or Little Bro's gentle coos from the monitor. But I have to be close to drink in the sweet scent of my little boys' sweaty heads. I have to be close to feel my husband's rough, strong hand around mine. Big Bro's warm breath on my arm as we read a book. Wet raspberries on my belly from a

[Apparently, some people are not able to read my mind. Here's my story re-formatted to be a little more clear - the Italic text is the story.] Often the contents of my pockets at the end of the day tell a story. Occasionally it will be a mystery story. Here is one from yesterday: 2 of those little plastic things...... I saved Little Bro from an unpleasant that attach tags to clothing..................... swallowing experience, Garage door opener.......................... and then we got in the car 26 Cheerios & a broken cracker......... and spilled most of our snack Sticker................................................. and dropped things. 5 Kleenex folded into little squares................. Little Bro had a cold, Library card.......................... but we went to story time anyway Sand....................................................... and to the park. But don't forget, this is a mystery story. What you wouldn't guess is that we went to the park that doesn&#

I used to clean every crook and nanny before company. I remember the "how" of it - not having children was a big factor. But the "why" is a bit murkier. Subconsciously, I think I felt that a pastor's wife should appear perfect in every way, including keeping the house in perfect order. Call it a stretch, or an excuse, but now I feel that presenting a slightly messy, slightly dirty home to company is humbler, kinder, and more honest than spending the two hours prior scrubbing like a madwoman. First, there ARE those unexperienced souls who put pastors and their families on a pedestal to begin with, and maybe seeing some dust on my bookshelves or dried milk spatter under the highchair helps show that we're more normal - and imperfect - than they imagined. But more importantly, our handprint-ridden mirror might allow another family to worry less about their own messy house when we come to visit, and leave more time for the things that really matter.

My sons have too many toys. WAY too many. This is not a problem, though, because of the delightful invention of "toy rotation." I don't know what mom first invented this, but I am indebted to her, and to those who have passed on this wisdom to me. Here's how it works. Big Bro has an uncanny memory for things like that one time Mommy let him rub spaghetti all over his head (so why can't he do it every time?). But, take away a toy for a month, bring it out again, and it's like he's never seen it before. Case in point... Two nights ago I put away a couple of toys that I decided the boys weren't ready for -- too many pieces had already been swallowed or fished out of various orifices, or it had to be hot-glued too many times because they thought a wooden toy garage was for sitting on, jumping on, or punishing little brothers with. Don't ask. While putting these away, I saw a few other toys they hadn't seen in a few weeks and brought them out. One p