Did You Hear Him Whisper?

I was reading my daughter the story of Elijah the other night, and we came to the part where Elijah thinks he is the only one left who is still serving God. Then God does something a little strange. Let's pick up the story in I Kings 19:11-13

¹¹And he said, "Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord." And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. ¹²And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper. ¹³And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold there came a voice to him and said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

Of course, the other night we were reading the children's version of the story, but I thought to myself, "Isn't it odd how often we look for our Father to rend mountains in two and shake the earth to speak to us when the whole time He has been whispering in our ears?"

Sometimes it just turns my stomach how sensationalistic we can be. We want to be wowed by God, but we want to dictate how He wows us. It is truly a sad commentary on how we are living out our faith if we are constantly looking for the next big thing to come along.

Let me expound on this by giving you an example from my own life. I have a good friend who I appreciate more with each passing day. She is a Texas transplant and said the other day that she has never seen a sky as big as the Texas sky. Well, of course, that just flattered my Lone Star heart to no end. She went on to describe how much beauty she finds in our Texas sky. You know, I started paying attention over the last couple of weeks, and she is right. Our sky is absolutely magnificent. No matter the weather, there is some sincere beauty in that sky. I was wowed by the creation of my Father.

It speaks volumes to me that though He has the power to shake the mountains and move the seas He chooses to communicate quietly with Elijah. He longs to do the same with us. For us to hear His whisper requires infinitely more trust than to wait for the "prophet" or "minister" to tell us what God is saying.

So, you see, if we're waiting by the loudspeakers for the booming voice from heaven, we may miss the main show. He is whispering to our hearts with all the love He has for us. He is drawing us to Him, loving us, caring for us. We just seem to miss those moments searching for the bigger ones. There are vast vistas of relationship that we have not even laid eyes on because we cannot see past ourselves. I for one hope to leave behind the noise and spend some time whispering with Papa.

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Parenting Is Not Glamorous!

It's been a trying week here. I have a new respect for single parents. Doing everything is no fun at all. It's nice to have a spouse to come home after work and take over the parenting for a few minutes so you can go hide in the closet and cry to release the stress of the day. I am counting the minutes until my husband gets home on Saturday. I haven't decided whether I will kiss him first or hand my daughter to him and run the other way singing "nah, nah, nah-nah-nah."

Really, my daughter is an angel. I don't give her enough credit for how well-behaved she really is. However, after being the only sounding board for a 2 1/2 year-old whine fest this afternoon, I'm ready to start rocking back and forth, eat my hair and try to find my happy place! Being a parent is not glamorous, but it is worth it.

We started our morning with Avari standing next to my bed with her pants down around her ankles. You see, she's figured out how to pull them down to go potty, but she hasn't quite gotten the wiping and pulling them up yet. I cleaned her up and gave her a bowl of cheerios for breakfast, her standard fare.

Then I proceeded to get ready for my doctor's appointment. We had a row over why she could not go with me to the doctor. How do you explain to a 2 1/2 year old that an OB/GYN visit is no place for a toddler? She then decided Mommy should just stay home and play with her and became inconsolable when I explained that was out of the question. We talked over the fact that she would get to go play at her Grammy and PawPaw's house. That seemed to smooth things over a bit.

She had another meltdown when I was combing her hair. I think it had something to do with the fact that I had to spray some detangler on her hair to get the comb through it. Then she was mad that her shirt was wet because she pulled the towel off her hair before I could get it dried off a little.

When we finally left the house at 9 am, I was almost looking forward to the OB/GYN! We made it to my in-laws' house; I coerced a kiss and hug from my darling progeny and managed to extricate myself with no further drama.

I made it to the doctor on the other side of downtown Houston and back in 2 hours, which has to be some sort of record. While I was there, he asked me if my husband and I were thinking more seriously about having another child (if you haven't been here before, it took quite a bit of medical intervention and a miracle from God to get our daughter). After this morning, my first thought was "Are you crazy?" No really, that isn't what I thought. Well, maybe, if I'm being honest, I thought it for a split second. But I explained that we were going to allow God to do whatever He wants in our lives, and if that includes another child, we'll leave that up to Him.

I made a quick stop at the bank to deposit a check where I was berated by the teller at the drive-thru. I had forgotten to list my account number and also forgot to sign my check. She apparently took it as a personal slight and drew great offense from my oversight. I thought to myself that after this morning she was lucky I had remembered the check at all, and I quickly signed it and sent it back to her.

I arrived back at my in-laws' at about 11:30 am. I had a nice few minute visit with my mother-in-law who I think should be made a saint after raising 3 boys (especially my husband who was a particularly difficult child). We drank a soda (I hadn't had a bite to eat or anything to drink all morning. I can thank blood work for that little gift) and discussed life in general.

We made it out to the car where my independent child decided she needed to climb in our SUV and her car seat with no help. That normally adds a good 5-10 minutes onto the loading time. I got her buckled in and climbed in the front seat. By the time we were backing out of their driveway she was asking me for her favorite CD, which I had managed to leave at home. She grumbled about that for a few minutes until she found something more interesting to do.

We made it home, and I prepared to put my angel down for her nap thinking, "I am going to have one glorious hour of peace and quiet in which to iron clothes!" I know, sounds like paradise, right? Who needs a 5 star spa when you can get a steam bath hovering over an ironing board trying to get the wrinkles out of teeny-tiny, frilly, little girl clothes? Seriously, have you ever tried to get all those ruffles wrinkle-free?

About the time I settled down to my first sustenance of the day (a bowl of raisin bran - I was too tired to make a sandwich), I heard the whine machine commence. I left my "meal" to find out what was causing the bee in my daughter's bonnet. She was contorted into a pretzel shape saying something about "it hurts." My response: "What hurts?" Her answer: "Scratch it here." As I looked to where she pointed, I saw that she was trying to scratch her derriere, but since she had on denim shorts, she couldn't get to the itch.

I proceeded to scratch her cheek and said, "Now please go to sleep." Before I could get out the door, she was crying, "Scratch your bottom." My response: "I did scratch your bottom." Her reply: "No, this part of your bottom." She wanted me to scratch the other side as well. I obliged because frankly all I could think about was that my raisin bran was getting soggy in the other room.

I sat down, picked up my spoon, had a bite of cereal halfway to my mouth and heard a door open over the monitor. I walked out and saw that the door to the study was open. I walked in to find Avari upset because her shoes had not been put up in her closet - perish the thought. I put the shoes up, tucked her back into bed and returned to my soggy cereal.

My beautiful daughter did sleep long enough for me to finish the ironing. She woke up asking for a snack, which she happily finished a few minutes ago. However, in the course of writing this post I have had to locate a lost purse, retrieve books for her to read on the potty, clean the potty, give her a cookie for going potty, and put on the aforementioned CD that she had requested earlier in the day.

So, I say again that parenting is not glamorous. However, when she looks at me and says, "Mama read you a book," and she snuggles up in my arms to read about The Lorax, The Cat in the Hat or Larry Boy's latest adventures, it is all worth it. The smile she gets on her face when I do different voices for each animal character in The Fly Went By, makes me long to do it all over again. The kiss and tight squeeze around my neck are worth so much more than money could ever buy. When I hear her sing "Amazing Grace" with me before bed at night and then she looks up at me with the sweetest grin and says, "You sing so beautiful" (referring to herself, of course), I know that I am the most blessed woman in the world.

Bring on the ironing, the itchy bottom, and all the hugs that go along with this gig. No matter how harried I may get, this is the best job in the world!

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Artist In Training

I thought I would show you the results of our art session today. I know I have been way more personal than usual this week. Perhaps that is because my husband is not here, and I have a deep-seated need to share with someone. Or, maybe I felt like I could at least have a one-sided adult conversation since I am at home with a beagle and a 2 year-old for the week. Frankly, we just had so much fun that I wanted to share it even if no one wanted to see it!

Regardless of the reasons, here are photos of my budding artist's work.


This first one is all Avari. She had to use every colored pencil and every marker. Then we got into buttons, sequins, etc. Oh, and Avari cut out two of the flowers that we pasted on the page (with a little help). She really had fun.


Of course, this second picture was a joint effort. I wasn't really sure if she was going to take part at first. I drew the picture and started showing her how to glue the macaroni to it. She was more interested in eating the raw spaghetti noodles than gluing them down. Before it was all over, she was having a blast. We did all the gluing before nap time. Then we colored the picture (including the noodles) with markers later in the day. As a result, we have a great surprise for her daddy when he gets back from the mission trip to New Orleans.

So, what value is this to you? Well, if you know us, then I'm just sharing with friends. If you stumbled upon this post and you don't know us from Adam, then perhaps you found a fun project to do with your kids!

Blessings!

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Out of the Mouths of Babes

I usually do not post more than once a day because I do not want to overwhelm people with my glorious prose. Actually, that is not true at all. Mostly, I just do not have the time nor the inclination to post multiple times each day. Today is the exception - lucky you, huh?!?

When the rain finally let up around noon today, I ran out to the store for some flour. I am supposed to be cooking dinner for a family in our congregation. However, I realized too late that I was running really low on flour. I tried to borrow some from a neighbor only to find out after I got soaked running to their house that they were offering whole wheat flour. That would normally be fine, but I did not think my friends would appreciate a "healthy" chicken pot pie dinner.

Anyway, back to the point - I took my daughter, jumped in the car and ran to the gas station thinking I would pay way too much for a small bag of flour, but it would at least be quick. Unfortunately, after unbuckling my daughter, convincing her to leave her favorite baby in the car, and lugging her into the store to keep her feet dry, I found they had no flour. I proceeded to return her to the car seat, buckle her back in, and return her baby to her. In the process, I made the statement aloud to my 2 1/2 year old, "I guess I could run all the way to Kroger to get the flour. At least I know they have some. But that would take so much longer. Maybe I should just try the gas station at the corner."

I'll tell you that what came out of my daughter's mouth next was sheer genius. She said, "No, Mama, don't go to Kroger. Go to Walgreens." She is a prodigy. I always suspected, but now, I'm sure it's true. I had not even considered going to Walgreens, which is much closer than Kroger, but also just as likely to have the flour I needed.

So, the moral of the story (at least the one I'm taking away from this) is Do Not Underestimate Your Children. They are so much smarter and tuned in than we give them credit for being. I'm seriously considering letting my daughter do my taxes next year. You never know, she may find a deduction I didn't know about!

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Memory Lane - The Tropical Edition

As I sit here typing I can hear the rain pelting my windows and see my little oak tree out front weathering the winds of Edouard. It seems that here in Chambers county we are getting the worst of this storm. Even at that, so far, so good. I am really glad that we still have power, for the moment at least.

It is always a little strange to me that each time we get a tropical storm or a hurricane, as I sit listening to the rain and the wind, it reminds me of all the storms that have come before. Funny how that works, isn't it?

The first hurricane I remember was Alicia. She came in August 1983. I remember a few things about her. The biggest impact she had on me was ruining my 8th birthday party. I was devastated at the time. We went out in my dad's Chevrolet pick-up when the rain let up. The flood waters reached almost to the floorboard of the truck. We were living in Highlands at the time in a mobile home. We weathered Alicia with nothing more than the lifted corner at the top of my dad's tool shed/storage building. Oh, the other thing I remember about Alicia was that we used a lantern for light and listened to a radio all night for the weather. My dad told us a hundred times if he told us once not to get too close to the lantern or we'd get burned. My sister got close one too many times and burned her arm on it. Ah, Alicia, my first hurricane memory.

The next hurricane that impacted me remains nameless in my memory. The only thing I really remember about it was that it got me out of school for a day or so. I believe that one was in 1989 - my first year of high school.

The 90's are a blur for me as far as hurricanes go. I remember that Florida had a few bad ones, but I cannot recall any that hit Texas. Maybe that's because I spent the majority of the 90's in Dallas. You know, we didn't really concern ourselves as much with tropical weather as we did hailstorms. Those are much more prevalent.

In any case, my next memory of significant tropical weather was Tropical Storm Allison. She was significant indeed. In June 2001 she dropped tons of rain on this area. Just about the time we thought we were rid of her, she'd move into the Gulf of Mexico to pick up more water to dump on us. I was working in downtown Houston at the time. My husband came to pick me up from work on one of the worst days of the storm, and a police officer yelled at him for stopping in front of my building. He threatened to ticket my husband for picking up his drenched wife in the middle of a tropical storm. Funny, I would think there would be more important duties on a day like that, my mistake. Seriously, I don't harbor any bitterness; at least, I don't think I do.

Fast forward to 2005 - hurricane Rita. Now, keep in mind that Katrina had just ravaged the Louisiana coast a few weeks earlier. I was 6 1/2 months pregnant with my daughter, and because I was considered high risk I was forbidden to travel. I went in to see my doctor a few days prior to the storm hitting, and he begged me to stay close to Houston, so he could treat me should anything go awry. We packed up our stuff and went a few miles down the road to stay with my parents. Of course, the worst of the storm went to the East of us, but it was a little scary, nevertheless - more so when Rita was churning up the Gulf as one of the strongest storms in recorded history. As a side note, my parents never even lost power during Rita. We had some minor roof damage, which our insurance company covered.

Now, in the grand scheme of things, as Edouard now stands, he will probably be but a blip on the radar screen of my life. Oh, I'll probably remember him because my husband is 6 hours away, so it's my first official storm alone (well, the lone adult). Thankfully, he's mild as storms go.

So, why do I reminisce about these storms? I'll tell you. It's a gentle reminder to me of how awesome my Papa truly is. He's helped me to weather countless storms in my life - some of the tropical variety and others of a spiritual and emotional nature. In whatever storm I've found myself He's always been there. Please do not mistake what I am saying. I have not emerged from all of these conflicts unscathed. However, the scars that I bear are testimonies of His faithfulness in my life. And each one of them provides me with the experience to be able to touch someone else who is struggling with battles that I have already fought.

As I listen to my friend, Edouard, rail outside my window, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that no matter what storms I may encounter in this life, I serve a God who is bigger. I may stumble and falter at times. I may lose sight of what He is trying to accomplish, but His love is always stalwart, never-failing, never-ending.

So, rage on storms of life. Do your worst to me. I say with David, "The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?" (Psalm 27:1).

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I Don't Drink Beer

OK, so this made me laugh this morning. I think part of it was that this is set to a Steven Curtis Chapman tune that my husband sang to me at our wedding. The other half is just the image he creates. This should at least bring a smile to your face, and who couldn't use an extra smile on a Monday . . . or any other day for that matter? Enjoy!



Oh, and if you like this and you didn't see the "Kid's Rock" video that he did (I posted it a while back), check it out.

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A Helping Hand

Well, my husband is off to New Orleans - actually, St. Bernard parish - for the week. He, along with several others from our congregation, have gone to help do some rebuilding. They will be spending the week doing drywall, painting and I suppose, whatever else is needed.

Here's the sad part. He's been gone less than 3 hours, and I already miss him like crazy!! I know, I'm such a sap. Seriously, this is only the second time in our 10+ years of marriage that we have been apart. The first time was when he went to Mexico last year.

I missed him last year, but I didn't miss him like I already miss him now. Maybe I was too busy with my daughter since she was only 18 months old when he went to Mexico. Perhaps, I just have a terrible memory, so I am not recollecting accurately. Or, maybe, I simply love him more this year than I did last.

It's true, and I know you are probably rolling your eyes as you read this thinking - "Seriously? This is so sappy." Well, that's just where I am right now - Sapville. It may be hard to believe, but I sincerely do love my husband more today than I did when I married him, more than I loved him last year, even more than I loved him last month. Somehow, each experience we share brings us that much closer together and we fall that much deeper in love.

We've known each other since we were 13 years old. We dated from the time we were 16 until we graduated college. We got married 3 months after my college graduation, and we've never looked back. My husband and I are a team; we are a package deal. If you want one of us, you get us both. We rarely do anything separately - with the exception of my new penchant for scrapbooking with my friends occasionally. But other than that, we are pretty much inseparable, and we wouldn't have it any other way!

The crazy, awesome part about all of it is that there is a direct correlation between how much I love Papa and how much I love my husband. I mean, the more I surrender myself to my Father's care, the more I allow His love to permeate my being, the more I see my husband loving our Father, the more I realize how much I love them both. I am just head over heels in love with them both. It's really a nice circle to be in.

Well, I will cease and desist with all of the mushiness now. I hope that you find yourself loving those around you more with each passing day. If you don't, then ask Papa for a nice pair of Love-vision glasses, which will help you to see them through His eyes. After you get a glimpse, the love will follow close behind.

Blessings!

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