"OK, God. When Does it Get Good?"

We drove to Utah this last week. Two toddlers, one newborn, eight hours. Yep. Fun times.

Well, the anticipation for this trip has been building for a while. It's our annual ski/snowboard trip in the mountains. I know, I know--leave the mountains to go to the mountains? Our's isn't exactly the ski-resort type. It's more the mountain man/bed and breakfast type. Point in case, no slopes.

But this is the first year our son was going to snowboard and he was thrilled as we left our little home and drove and drove and drove. And drove some more.

Out of California, through the tips of Arizona and Nevada and into Utah.

Even after this, our five-year old son kept looking up at random mountain ranges and asking, "Is that Utah?"

And we would constantly remind him, "We're in Utah, we've been in it for a while."

But he would still look up to the mountain tops, clearly confused. And we knew why. To his little mind, Utah was snow, slopes and boarding. Not this flat, red state with cliffs and bluffs.

And it hit me that so many times in our lives, we ask God the same question. When are we going to get there? When is my luck finally going to pan out? Surely, this can't be as good as it's going to get.

I know I've had those moments in my life. And what a waste. It's a waste because one day, we could turn around, find ourselves 90 and completely alone, just wishing the grand kids would come for a visit or that our loved ones would send us a card. I hope that in my old age, I will be able to look back and be grateful I counted the little moments--the moments that really mattered. Because, before we ask "When does it get good," perhaps stop and think that today is a day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

If we just live for those Academy Award moments like, a larger home, job promotions or book contracts, we could waste a lot of time realizing that we're already there. God has already blessed us abundantly if we would just look around and see it. 

So how about you? What are you thankful for this very day?

The Moment I Forgot About Christmas

It's been more than forty-eight hours now since my husband came home from work early in excruciating pain. More than forty-eight hours since I called his mom to see if she could rush him to the ER. I watched in near tears as our neighbor, who is a nurse, brought him a face mask to put on because if her fears were correct, he could have been so contagious that our whole family would be at risk.

I didn't know anything. I simply knew that he was so weak he could hardly stand. And watching him leave with no color in his face and tears in his eyes for fear the baby or the kids would get whatever it was that he had, simply broke my heart.

Watching them drive away was almost too much to bear. I wanted so desperately to go with them. But we all knew that taking a four week old into the ER was not a good idea. So I stayed home and waited.

There were a few things I knew. I knew he was having headaches so severe they were making him throw up, an alarming amount of pain in his neck and back, and after speaking to the nurse, I knew it could be spinal meningitis and that after signing a waver because of the possibility of paralysis, he would be getting a spinal tap to reach a diagnosis.

I could not hold his hand. I could not tell him how much I loved him. He was over an hour away in a tiny quarantined room.

That's when I vaguely remember hearing that there were only five days until Christmas. And suddenly it was like I was waking up from a coma. Like all I could see were bright lights. Everything else washed away.

All except my husband. And my children. And my King.

There was no more tinsel and no more lights. I didn't care whether the cookies needed slivered almonds or chopped pecans. Or that the last row of lights on the tree had burnt out. All I cared about was whether or not my phone was going to ring and what was going to be on the other end.

All I wanted was for my husband to be OK. And I had no idea if he was actually going to be OK.

As the hours and days have worn on, with presents still unwrapped and many left to buy, it was natural to wonder if Christmas was going to be normal. But maybe--just maybe its not supposed to be.

Because Christmas was never about us. It was about the Savior who came to this earth as a baby to be born in a cold stable among donkey and sheep. And just like the drummer boy--we have no gifts fit for a King.

Except to get down on our knees and thank him for our family.

And thank him for the night he came into this world beneath a midnight sky. Although there was no room in the inn, and although the world He came to save would betray him, He still came.

To bring us tidings of comfort and joy.

* * *

I have since learned that our prayers have been answered and Noah was not contagious. Test results have begun coming in and the worst illnesses are slowly being ruled out. Which meant that I was able to visit him! Holding his hand and seeing the color in his cheeks and the smile on his face was all the Christmas present I needed.

We are so thankful for all the prayers and all the love that has poured in from friends and family. It's going to be a very merry Christmas this year, despite the fact that the thanksgiving decorations are still up and we don't have a stocking for Caleb :)

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a joyous time celebrating the birth of our Lord!
From my family to yours.

An Advent of Giving: Our Family's Twist

What is advent?

It's a beginning.
An arrival.
An anticipation.

All for the celebration of Christ's birth.

And we celebrate it by pulling tootsie rolls and sticks of gum out of numbered felt squares.

Really? That's the best we can do?

Imagine anticipating the homecoming of a loved one from the war overseas and celebrating that anticipation by shoe shopping on day 1, getting a pedicure on day 2, and so on. All to express your love and unbridled joy at greeting your dear one.

Well when you put it that way... My point exactly!

So it was as my husband and I were discussing ways we could increase Christ and decrease Santa ( sorry chubbo) that we came up with the idea of doing an advent calendar in reverse.

Yep. Instead of getting shiny chocolate kisses for each day we draw closer to our Savior's birth, we as a family, come up with one way of blessing someone else that day.

Now granted our lives are a little hectic right now with three small kids including a 2-week old, so while we hope to do more in the years to come, we're keeping the ideas extra simple and surprisingly enough...it doesn't take all that much to make a persons day.

Here are some of the things we have marked on our homemade advent calendar:

Day 1: Levi drew a picture for our elderly neighbor who has just lost her husband to cancer, he carried it over and took a few moments to chat with her.

Day 2: Mabry helped me bake banana bread--she's is the worlds greatest masher--for another neighbor.

Day 3: On Sunday, Noah handed the baby to a lovely woman in our church. With everyone itching to hold a newborn and mommy and daddy wanting to keep him close, it was a real treat for her. Her ear to ear grin the entire time nearly brought tears to my eyes.

Days 4 & 5: Lastly, while out with his grandma at a taco joint, Levi asked an older gentleman if he could throw his trash away for him. Imagine finishing your meal only to have a five-year-old offer to whisk away your trash. (I love that he had this idea all on his own!) And the following day, he filled the wood box next to the stove, then swept the dirt he had tracked in and even offered to mop! All to bless his mommy. My heart melted when Noah came home and secretly told me that I was the recipient of the advent blessing that day.

I love that our children are learning at a young age to serve others, and they're doing it so joyfully. I'm excited to see what ideas we continue to come up with this advent season. And even more excited when I hear him say "Jesus is the reason for the season," each time he finds a way to bless someone.

So tell me, what are some of your favorite holiday traditions?


Photo credit: The Nativity Story, 2006

Welcome Baby Caleb!

As promised, here's the update on our new little addition!
My November 18th due date came and went and it was quite clear our third baby had no interest in coming on time. In fact, I think he may have gotten hold of some super glue because the kid was snug as could be. The midwife had been monitoring his size due to the fact that my belly was big enough for twins. In fact I got asked ALL THE TIME if I was having twins. In one night two people asked me if I was having twins and a third lady said my belly looked just like hers. I thought, finally, someone who had a belly as big as mine. Then she said, "I was carrying twins."

Fabulous. Time to go home to hubby and consider picking a back up name!

Needless to say we were concerned about this baby coming late and getting ANY bigger. So aside from all the old-fashioned remedies for encouraging labor to begin, I decided to google it and see if I had missed an idea. A youtube video of a mego prego lady rocking out to music in her living room immediately caught my attention. I mean the lady was really getting down with her bad self. So on Saturday I decided to give it a try. Of course my husband whipped out his I Phone and lets just say if the footage was not properly deleted his life may be in jeopardy.


Although I did decide there were 4 good things about being overdue:
1. No one will try and kidnap you. It's just too much work. Plus you have the whole bladder control thing playing to your advantage.
2. You can walk through Costco devouring an almond ice cream bar and no one will bat an eyelash. Except for the man who gave you the odd look when you took off the wrapper as you rather (indiscreetly) sang hallelujah to your about-to-be-consumed-dessert.
3. It's most likely the only time that someone will tell you your belly is hard as a rock.
4. Even though you have kankles...you can't see them *grin*


Anywho, back to the action.

On Saturday night, to my surprise it kept the momentum of my contractions going. Since we live an hour+ from the hospital, I woke up my husband, Noah, and he got to work throwing on clothes, loading bags and warming up the car.

When we got to the hospital it was 2:00 AM and the labor and delivery floor was under construction. We walked the halls for an hour watching the commotion to keep my mind off things. When faced with the uphill climb of labor and pain, a gal can get overwhelmed. When anxiety and doubt crept in, I asked Noah to read to me. He pulled out his phone and Bible app then read all of first Timothy. Later on, after officially checking in, things really intensified and he rounded the corner into 2nd Timothy because still, it was keeping me semi-calm. This is a good time to point out that we had chosen the name Caleb Scott for our little man. The day before I went into labor, Noah suggested the middle name Timothy. We decided to wait and see when he was born and we could decide. More on that in a minute...

To our delight, Caleb was born at 12:02, a surprising 9Lb 15 oz, and the whole labor experience worked out really well. I was so thankful for my husband, especially when it came down to the idea of changing our original birth plan and veering in a different direction. The whole time Noah was my hero and I was so thankful to have him by my side. We named our new son Caleb Scott then shortly after, I asked Noah if we could change it to Caleb Timothy due to the fact that we had nearly consumed both books only hours before. Since his idea the day before, he was pretty thrilled and it suddenly became clear that was the perfect middle name.

Our ten pound baby was quite a hit on the labor and delivery floor that night, as nurses came and went, amazed at his heft each time they picked him up. He's just a warm, snuggly, teddybear and I have to admit it's not always easy to share him :).

We were so excited to have the kids come see him the day after he was born and even more excited to finally bring him home. He likes his snug little house in the mountains and loves even more having his diapers changed near the wood burning stove and two doting siblings singing to him, reading to him, and just loving him endlessly. Our family feels so much more complete now and my husband and I are excited to watch Caleb, Levi and Mabry continue to grow into the lovely people God has planned for them to be.

Waiting on Baby...

The changing table is in place, cloth diapers are organized, and the bassinet is in it's spot by the bed, little blue blankets folded and waiting for someone to warm. Now all we need is a baby. And after nearly 10 months of waiting, we are so ready for this little one to come!

When we went to the ultrasound, we were planning on being surprised. But alas, while showing us a few final images of baby B, my husband and I both saw a little too much. We knew right away we were having a boy. But we left the ultrasound room, still planning on being surprised. Stopping in the hall, we turned to one another and both said that we knew what it was. Laughing, we shared that it had to be a boy and wanting to be certain at this point, as opposed to 99% sure, we knocked on the door to the ultrasound room, and a surprised technician greeted us. We asked her to confirm our suspicions and she very sweetly told us we were having a boy. Then, she urged us to come back into the room so she could take some more pictures just for fun.

So once we knew our "it" was actually a "he", all we had to do (aside from completely overhauling our bedroom to accommodate a pint sized person) was choose a name. Easier said than done this time around. We tossed around a few ideas, but nothing had that special something. And then one day my husband suggested a name and I immediately agreed. But what about that surprise we had been hoping for in waiting to find out the baby's gender? So right away, we decided we would keep the name to ourselves and tell our family and friends once the little guy made his grand entrance. This is driving our families crazy and there has been much guessing. More than once, they've asked one of our kids what the name is. Like we would tell those two rug rats, hehe.

Everyday, people check in on me to see if anything is happening, but alas, this baby seems quite comfortable where he is. I think he hears all the commotion in our little house and has decided to stay put where it's a little more peaceful ;) Though little does he know there are two pairs of tiny arms just itching to show him love. I have much to be thankful for and look forward to the next phase in our lives!

The Pages of My Journal

I keep a journal. I've kept one for as long as I can remember...all the way back to that little book with the gold colored lock and tiny key I kept hidden away in my room when I was a girl.

I've saved every journal I've ever filled. Now, the one sitting on my dresser contains memories from my first son's birth and then my daughter's and everything in between. I've taped memories inside: ticket stubs from a special date with my husband, the little greeting card that came with a gift of flowers from an illness, tracings of my son's feet and hands when he sat with me one night, watching me scribble away. With a broken heart, I've torn pages out of my journal and watched days best forgotten scatter like the wind. It is a record of my life. The good moments. The everyday memories that I couldn't risk forgetting. The not so good.

Every so often, I flip back through my journal and remember where the adventures of life began. I did just this last night. And each time, it nearly takes my breath away. I am once again awed by God's steadfastness in every area of my life. My journal has been a journey of faith. Through ups and downs, I continually see the same thing repeated; God is in control. And each time I scribble that phrase, or its many variations, I know--I believe--that pages and pages down the road of life, I will flip back and think to myself, Yes, He certainly was!

First Home School Days

Well we have officially begun home schooling. Yet isn't home schooling something so many moms do? Whether they send their kids to school or teach them at home? I think so. Playing blocks, coloring, learning numbers and letters and so many other activities are really teaching our children, so the transition into official schooling can be a smooth one.

We've casually done preschool up until now. Levi, who will be five in November has had trouble with numbers. Right now he has just mastered counting up to the number twelve. Some kids that I know of can count much higher by this age and at first I was worried because Levi really struggle in this area (sometimes making me want to bang my head against the table) but once I realized it was OK to slow down, it took the pressure off of both of us. And trying to work with a stressed out mommy is no fun for any child. It was time for a change.

We made a game by cutting out small pieces of cardboard and I spread them out in the center of the living room. Levi had so much fun jumping from one number to the next (whichever number I called out) like a frog on lilly pads. Other times I'd do a scavenger hunt by placing the cards in a special spot and after telling Levi what number I needed, he'd race off and find it. There was lots of laughing, high fives and woohooing as we played these games. And for a squiggly, wiggly, four-year-old, counting and numbers became a pleasant time again.

On the other hand, when it came to letters, I hardly had to try. He just naturally picked it up. Now we're working on sight words and he's picking those up just as quick. Once I realized that he knew about 20 words, I made him his own little book out of construction paper. I printed off sentences that included the words he knew, simple things like "Levi and Mabry run." or "I said truck." (I taught him a couple extra words like truck, dog, his name and sister's name, and a few others to make the storybook a little more possible.) He loves that he can read what the little book says and has such fun reading it with his grandma or dad and showing them what he's learned.

In all this, I'm learning just as much as he is. A joy of home schooling is that I can pace Levi differently in the various subjects so he's learning at a comfortable rate with enough of a challenge to find his successes thrilling. And his two-year-old sister insists on learning along with us. She hates being left out. So even though she's just a tiny tot, she wants me to show her the flash cards and I'll help her say them back. She thinks it's so fun to be doing what brother is doing and it makes it so much easier to have her close and participating so I don't have to worry about what trouble she might be getting into somewhere else in the house. Most of the time, though, she keeps busy scribbling on scratch paper. And her brother has the most generous heart. He admires her wild scrawling and points out what he sees. "Look, May. You made a boat." And my favorite was when he said..."You made a beaver tail, good job!"

Oh, and I almost forgot about the picture above! I grew up reading the Little House books and have been waiting for the right time to read them to the kids. I wasn't sure how well they'd get into a story with so few pictures, but they love sitting down each day and reading several pages and it gives Levi and I a special time to simply chat about what we're reading. He can ask questions and it's a great opportunity to explain history and pioneer life. And my time of having my children at home with me is only going to be a season. I'm so thankful to have them with me, learning, laughing and being together as a family.

Adventures in Country Living: Butter

I know that's a picture of pie, but my jar of butter didn't turn out to be so photogenic so the pie took center stage. But there will be pie in this post. Buttermilk pie...allow me to elaborate.

There is a handy blog out there by the "West Ladies" that I enjoy perusing for homesteading ideas and tips. They've also put together a wonderful collection of DVD's for everything from The Art of Soapmaking to The Art of Canning and I've been wanting to make their recipe for "Grandma's Buttermilk Pie" which not only calls for a cup of buttermilk, but also offers a super simple method for making butter. Yum! So here we go....

Butter Recipe
3 cups heavy cream at room temp
1 quart Jar
Willing shakers

Pour cream into jar. Shake.
Easy as (buttermilk) pie!

I used a quart size canning jar but you could use any large jar that has a tightly sealing lid. The kids were eager to help and when my husband (aka the worlds best cream shaker) saw what we were doing, he jumped in to try it. But the jar got really full, making it difficult to shake. We realized that the cream was just thickening and expanding into a runny version of coolwhip Something wasn't right. It was then that I remembered the one important rule--the cream needs to be at room temp. Oops. The recipe has ONE ingredient and I still managed to screw it up! Our jar was cool to the touch but after running it under some warm water for a few seconds, the fat instantly separated from the liquid and we suddenly had a large mound of butter!

I think the heavens might have parted at that moment, but maybe that was just me overly excited.

But then my husband (let's just call him Noah from here on out) got a call. Our neighbor down the street needed help beheading a turkey. Talk about random--and a little gruesome--my apologies. It was actually pretty ironic. I wondered how many wives and husbands didn't have that conversation this week. "As much fun as I'm having churning butter little lady, duty calls."

So turkey-killer and I parted ways and I set to work draining off the buttermilk. After reading that too much liquid left in the butter can ruin it, I was nervous about not being able to get it all out and probably only got a B+ so next time I will strain it really well through cheesecloth. But for now, we were thrilled. Especially my husband. We stood in our kitchen after the kids went to bed, spreading homemade butter on last nights biscuits, dolloped with spoonfulls of some pie filling I had made the week before--rhubarb, strawberries and butter never tasted so good! We leaned against the kitchen sink, devouring our late night snack as he filled me in on the details of his--er--own adventure across the street. When he finished, I told him I was going to do some canning with Mrs. Turkey-killer after church (hi Robyn :])

He started laughing and said, "We're such rednecks."

I think something about me being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen rounded out the moment :D
Happy Homesteading.

P.S. Buttermilk Pie...two thumbs up! Please don't make fun of my crust, I worked very hard, haha. And I used an AMAZING recipe by Ina Garten from the food network.
Also, visit Homestead-blessings.com for the recipes and much more.

Adventures in Country Living: Dutch Oven Cooking

100 years ago, along the path from the east to the west, came thousands of families traveling in a wagon with less cargo spaces than some refrigerators I've seen. They packed up what little they could tuck into nooks and crannies and set off on the journey of a lifetime. The supplies they packed varied, while some may have valued a prized fiddle or sewing machine, others clung to family portraits and hand-me-down cradles. But what most every family packed, was the key to cooking on the open plains--a Dutch oven.

Imagine standing over a campfire and relishing in the ability to bake breads, cakes and rolls, and cook stews and cobblers. The Dutch oven truly is a remarkable tool.

These are the images that come to mind when I think of a Dutch oven, but Dutch ovens still have their place in the here and now. Our family just got home from two week-long camping trips. And while my washer and dryer are working over time, our Dutch oven is tucked snugly in its home inside our trailer, resting from several weeks of feeding everyone.

The Dutch oven is my husband's baby. He's the campfire man. He can start one in a heartbeat, I've even seen him do it without a flame. He's basically like an over sized boyscout. But he's our resident chef when we go camping and he knows how to whip up more than one crowd pleaser. He pretty much does all the work, and I'm mostly allowed to observe. I think its a guy thing. They love cooking in the great out doors--BBQ's, can of beans tossed into the campfire, fish grilling in tin foil on the side of a stream, it doesn't matter where they are, they were born to cook in the great out doors.

But the guy makes a mean breakfast quiche, he learned it from his brother (who also makes an amazing stew), and when I asked my husband for the recipe so I could blog about it, he stared at me like a dear in headlights with this look like "I can't believe your going to give away my secret." So I'll just blurt out the ingredients, and run like the dickens in the opposite direction: egg, cheese, sausage, bacon, potatos. That's all I'll say, but if you see him, you might be able to work the details out of him, or just bring him camping. He's already had several offers..."um honey, did you pack the tent and the marshmallows, oh and the cast iron guy whose going to feed us like kings?"

So I'll share another recipe and it's as simple as, well, dump cake.
My favorite is blackberry-rhubarb. I like to cut fresh rhubarb from the garden, cook it down for thirty minutes with sugar then freeze it in quart containers, but the beauty about this way-too-easy cobbler is that the fruit combinations are endless.

Dutch Oven Dump Cake:
First, start coals by lighting a fire in a pit or using charcoal.
A 10 or 12 inch Dutch Oven work great. Grease the inside of the oven, or insert a greased foil liner.
Dump in 2-3 cans of pie filling or fruit and 1-2 packages of cake mix (depending on the size of the Dutch oven)
Pour over a stick of melted butter or spread diced butter evenly on top
No need to mix or stir anything!

When working with a fire pit, it helps to use a heat proof glove, like a welding glove and a lid lifter is a must. With the lid on the oven, set it gently on a small bed of hot coals, place more coals on top (more on top than on bottom if you like a nice golden-brown crust)and allow to cook for about 45 minutes, give or take. Rotate the Dutch oven as needed so the sides cook evenly and replace or remove coals as necessary to regulate heat.

This is not an exact science. The rate at which the Dutch oven cooks ranges depending on the amount of coals, heat of the coals, and the weather. The fruit will begin to bubble up and that's good. When the cake is set and as golden as you like, its done. Allow to cool slightly and serve with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream for those people who like runny vanilla ice-cream on their cobbler, but I'm weird, and I like it just the way it is ;)

Happy Homesteading!

A Very Country 4th

We celebrated the Forth of July Country Style. Some dear friends of ours have a lovely farm in the country. Literally, their home is the very last house on a rural dirt road which means they have only one neighbor and the 300 degree view from their back porch of the untouched mountains is stunning.

For most of the day, my son ran around in his bathing suit on the lawn chasing kids both older and younger, squirt gun in hand, water balloons flying past his head like little torpedoes. I don't think the kids stopped for a breather all day, except when it was time to eat. And then, I don't think anyone could have resisted that spread.

The enormous BBQ hauled in on the back of a vehicle was large enough to feed everyone with chicken, ribs and lamb drizzled in the most wonderful homemade BBQ sauces. Pots large enough to hold a couple of youngins held more corn than I have ever seen in one place in my life and with plenty of entrants in the cobbler and pie competition, there were desserts-a-plenty. My dad was eager to join in on the judging and as he walked around the table, sampling the cobblers with his fork, I don't think he could have been happier. The Lemon pie won, but I was too busy nibbling on peach cobbler that had been freshly baked in a dutch oven over a hot fire then topped with hand churned vanilla ice cream, I forgot to nab myself a slice of the winning entry before it vanished.

As everyone enjoyed the meal, a handful of toddler girls waddled about with chubby legs and ribbons in their hair. With watermelon juice still dripping from her chin, my daughter wandered from picnic blanket to picnic blanket, seeing what bites of food the kind folks would offer a doe-eyed, dimple-cheeked one-year-old. Needless to say, I don't think she had any room left in her little tummy by the end of the day.

As the meal came to a close, folks shared patriotic readings, poems and songs and when that was wrapped up, a gaggle of barefooted, sun-tanned kids hopped onto the flat bed truck for a trip down to the creek. I have no idea what they did down there, but when my three-year-old returned, he was wet, a little muddy and very happy. At that moment I figured he'd probably sleep for a week.

Earlier on in the day, names went up on a board in preparation for the shotgun competition. My honey did quite well in the shootout, making it all the way to the semi finals before getting knocked out of the competition. He has the bruise on his shoulder to prove it. His brother took the championship, shooting through four rounds of competition at twenty-five clay pigeons each round. I bet his bruise is bigger :-) Later on, some of the shooters took part in a twenty-one gun salute. My husband and dad were among the few who lined up for the series of shots in front of the garden...it was VERY loud...things you can only pull off in the country ;-)

As the sun sank on the 4th of July, the s'mores sticks came out and by the time the fire was crackling, a group of kids were huddled around the pit with eager hands. With my friend doing graham cracker duty and me on Hershey bar duty, we managed to sandwich those golden (sometimes rather charred) marshmallows up before any kids realized we actually only had 4 skewers. Even so, those too impatient to wait for a skewers, found a stick long enough to satisfy their s'mores cravings (several adults included) Meanwhile, the guitars came out and as we sang songs around the campfires. The littlest ones drifted off to sleep while the older ones were told they could have no more s'mores but if they were still hungry we had plenty of graham crackers and corn on the cob.

I realized just how late it was when my dad got a little droopy eyed, guitar still in hand. We packed up the picnic blankets and loaded up the kids. My dad managed to stay awake in the car, but my children were asleep in the car seats, with sticky stuff still on their faces, before we were out the driveway.

Encouragement For Mothers: Patience

In honor of mothers day, I would like to share a thought that has been close to my heart for the last few days:

"Why is my patience conditional?"

My relationship with Christ is not conditional.
My relationship with my husband is not conditional.
Therefore my relationship with my children should not be conditional--and one of the most tangible ways a mother demonstrates her love for her children is through patience. Yet I find myself often losing my patience with my children based on factors or conditions that arise throughout the day. Perhaps my daughter dumped out the box of raisins or perhaps my son decided to unroll the toilet paper into the bathtub only to make a wet sopping mess. Even though I have to address them as an authority and correct their behavior, it should always be done through NEVER ENDING patience. How I wish that were the case, because I am ashamed to say, that is sometimes (more often than not--wince) not my resulting attitude.

God handles us, his children with never ending patience. He is perfect at it because he is 1) God and 2) fathomless in all that he does. So since I am called to have a Christ-like mindset and heart, I want to follow in my Father's footsteps. I want to stop losing my patience and start gaining it!

This was my cry last week when life and motherhood were not going my way: "My patience is wearing thin. My patience is wearing thin!" I was frazzled and my children had a front row, interactive seat.

Then the Lord spoke to my heart and He helped change my mindset. This became my prayer: "Lord strengthen my patience, deepen my patience, let it not be conditional. Let my patience be ever growing and steadfast. This is how I can be a good mother to my children." With this prayer filling my heart, my patience suddenly was not a conditional thing, something that swayed with the tides of my emotions. It became steadfast and solid, something my children could depend on as I loved them and nurtured them throughout the day. Then, even when trials arose, I was calm in addressing those trials. I want my little ones to look to me for refuge and stability and they should be able to rest in the security of my patience.

I'm still working on it, but I am determined to hold myself accountable for my behavior and temperament by trying to overcome the little things throughout the day that try and throw me off course. When daily life begins to escalate, and the teakettle of my heart is close to boiling, I don't want the result to be a steaming, fuming mother for my children. I must pause for a moment, remember to pray my little prayer and allow God to do his work in my heart.

Blessings to all you mothers out there. The Lord is watching over you and your little ones. Lean on Him and let Him be your pillar of strength.