Paul To My Rescue

It’s been such a busy month that I almost forgot to update you on our excitement. NO, I am not pregnant. Good golly, wouldn’t that be something? I think my poor husband might turn completely gray overnight instead of one hair at a time. And FTR, I think the gray sprinkled into his dark blonde hair is H-O-T!

Remember when I told you last month how, because of sweet Davis’ video, we had been invited to the HisRadio Holiday Gala? Well, we went in early December and it was so neat!

Now, let me tell you that we weren't invited to just be at the dinner. When they asked us to attend, they had also asked if I would be willing to film a short video telling a little bit about that day that we made the video and how I felt watching my little guy praise Jesus. Of course I said yes – how hard could that be?

They made it super convenient for me – they actually came and filmed over lunch one day so I didn’t even have to miss any work. It went really fast, they seemed to think it would all look great and that someone would be in touch to let us know when and where to be for dinner. Whew. The hard part is over. Or so I thought.

About a week before, they called to let us know that we could invite up to ten people to share this night with us. Well, that was a no-brainer. We invited Davis’ K-3 and K-4 teachers {who we LOVE!} as well as Grandpa, Uncle Terry, Aunt Donna, Austin and then, of course, me, Dallas, Dagen and Davis. What a fun group! Where was the youngest of the Darnell boys? **Read to the end to find out.....

On this phone call, they also asked that Davis and I come the night before to be a part of the rehearsal. I thought it was a little strange that we would need to be there for that considering the fact that our video{s} was already shot but we went anyway. When we got there, they ushered us back behind the stage where they were doing test runs of the videos and speakers. The stage manager started to ‘mic us up so then I was really confused. I asked why we needed the microphones and she said, ‘Oh, didn’t they tell you? We’re going to play your video and then you’ll have two minutes to talk about……’ At this point, I didn’t hear anything else out of her mouth.

Um, I'm sorry. For a minute I thought you told me I was going to speak. I mean, we're honored and all but you want me to talk in front of….1,2,3....how many chairs are out here exactly? Oh, 700? Is that all? Pardon me while I go hurl.

So what was I supposed to say? ‘No thanks, I’m good. Someone else can take my place.’ Probably not. I just reminded myself that I was a big girl and I could do this, even if it petrified me. I've never been totally terrified of public speaking BUT I've never done it in front of 700, either.

What else could I do? I didn't want it to look lame that everyone else spoke after their videos and we were in the back hiding out like a bunch of chickens. And obviously I knew Davis wasn’t going to say anything. Seriously, now. Of all three of my boys, I was headed to the stage with the shyest of them all. Now, give me Dagen in front of a crowd and you can count on some entertainment – he can shake that thang or give you some hard core up-downs {complete with the grunts and groans}. But Davis isn’t going to even look at a crowd that size, let alone mutter a single syllable. So I just said okay and convinced myself that surely I could come up with something that sounded halfway educated.

That night, I decided not to stress about it {which is HUGE for me}. I truly believed that the Holy Spirit would intervene....and He did. It was certainly nothing deep and profound but it served the purpose.

Now, that’s not to say that I didn’t prepare. I got up early that next morning, opened my Bible and went to Philippians. You can’t go wrong there and it was crazy how I seemed to gravitate to some verses that totally related to our video on how Christian radio plays a part in our family. In Philippians 4:8, when Paul is telling the church at Philippi to fill themselves with 'whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable,' it occurred to me that this applies here, too. Here is what I shared in my one-minute snippet.

Hi, my name is Dawn Darnell and this is my son, Davis. We’re so thankful to HisRadio for allowing our family to be a part of this awesome night.

As I mentioned in the video, HisRadio does play a big part in our family as we apply censorship to what our boys hear but, as I was reading this morning in Philippians, I was reminded that we as adults are no different. The Bible tells us to fill ourselves with that which is true and lovely and pure. As a follower of Jesus, I physically feel the Holy Spirit in me but, let me tell you, the minutes and hours after listening to a little Chris Tomlin or Third Day, I am on fire for the Lord.

As a mother of three young boys, when I’m in the car, the music has a sort of calming effect and sustains me on those often times loud commutes. I am no longer thinking about the driver who cut me off on the interstate – instead, I’m wondering if that same driver knows the Lord. It’s not only the music but also the positive encouragement heard on HisRadio that resonates with me throughout my day. When my ears have been filled with what my heart knows to be true, I am a much stronger witness to those around me. What if, through me, Jesus can touch another’s life? I don’t ever want to miss that.

Thank you, HisRadio, for helping me to be a better daughter and disciple for the Kingdom.

All in all, it went great. I didn’t throw up on anyone, Davis didn’t cry {although I was holding his lanky, kindergarten self in my arms while speaking at the podium} and no one boo’d us off stage. I call that a success! I did ask him if he had anything he wanted to say {because, at his request, he had planned to say ‘I LOVE JESUS’} but all he could do was giggle. I even tried to bribe him with candy in front of all those people and he just chuckled. Better than some alternatives, I suppose.

Here’s the link if you’d like to watch the video they filmed and shared at this dinner which includes clips of Davis’ original. I hope to have a copy of that actual night's event for the rest of our family and friends to see and for Dave to one day watch but, for now, this will do.

Toodles….


P.S. We met THE Rob Dempsey backstage, talked with him a few minutes and even had a picture taken with him but it came out awful. Naturally.


**So where was little man? C'mon now. No one in their right mind would even attempt that sort of event with Dayne the Pain. Thanks to some sweet friends in our 'hood, Dayne had a playdate with their children while we enjoyed a semi-peaceful meal. Why semi? Why not total peace? Well, because first Dagen asked if the salad, already placed on our tables, was 'IT' in terms of dinner and when we told him it wasn't, he said, rather loudly, 'Oh good! I hate this kind of salad. Where's the cheese and eggs anyway?' Once they did bring out the main course, he asked everyone if they knew what asparagus will do to your urine? Where exactly can I send him to learn discretion? He then proceeded to round the table with 'Are you going to eat your dessert? Because if you're not, I will.' Ah, yes. Just another typical meal with our family.....

HoHoHo

Yes, another classy card. It’s what we do.

Last year we decided that, going forward, we will be home {in our home} for Christmas and I’m so thankful for that right now. We want to establish traditions with the boys and continue them each year. I know I’m looking forward to a nice Christmas Eve dinner, baking cookies for ‘Santa,’ waking early to see what ‘Santa’ brought, and eating a scrumptious Christmas morning breakfast. {Are you seeing a theme here?!? I love eating. Shocking, I know.} I love traveling back west to see friends and family but it’s no easy feat considering the crowd I roll with.

Anyway, I know I personally thrive on stability and continuity that come with traditions – doesn’t everyone? Maybe that’s the Type-A, OCD part of me rearing its ugly self but it’s not so bad. My poor boys have to encounter it every day and they seem to be developing normally just fine. Besides, they have a good balance between me and their complete and total opposite, ‘fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants’ father.

Yes, folks, the stories are all true. Who on earth would want to pretend this sort of stuff happens? I honestly don’t have enough ink in my Pilot G-2 to make notes as I go through my everyday life to blog it. Sometimes I save it in mental memory {why, I don’t yet know} and other times I make a point to find one of those lasers that can erase certain moments that I don’t care to remember. You know, like when he walks around all of Greenville with a hole in the hiney of his jeans but with not a care in the world. He claims he didn’t realize it was there – I beg to differ. I pointed that hole out a week before – his response was, ‘Oh, they’re just fine to wear around the house.’ Um, yes Muffin, but you weren’t just ‘around the house,’ you were OUT.IN.PUBLIC.

There are worse things, right? I mean, at least his pants didn’t fall to his feet for all the world to see his Buzz Lightyear undies like they did with Davis last night in Bi-Lo. Do you think Davis was embarrassed? Nope. He just giggled. That kid is not only the spitting image of his daddy but has the exact same personality. Dallas doesn’t think so, probably because Davis does a good bit of crying when he doesn’t get his way. I’m not sure that doesn’t convince me even more that they are identical…just sayin'.

His rebuttal to that would probably be how I threw a fit when he moved Inflatable St. Nick to my front porch and he would be right. I did throw a two-year-old tantrum but it was well warranted. And guess where the fat man is right now? Here's a hint - NOT the front porch.

See, we've got all sorts of crazy in this family. Just like naughty is the new nice, neurotic is the new normal.

From our cuckoo house to yours - Merry Christmas, y’all!

Now This Is The Life

By 3:30 this afternoon, I was home with all three boys, snack was over, homework was done, a load of laundry was spinning and I was fully immersed in a cut-throat game of Uno with Davis.

It.Was.Awesome.

For now {and hopefully the foreseeable future}, this is my new schedule. It will allow me to pick up my boys from school every day, help them with their homework, tidy up my house a bit, prepare dinner and just balance out my life a little better. Thank you LORD! This is a dream come true – to maintain my career all while caring for my family. I could not be more excited and feel more blessed than I do right now. Yes, I love my job but I love my family way more.

Excuse me while I go hang with my little men and watch ‘Remember the Titans’ for the ten-thousandth time and that is NO exaggeration – I have some serious football lovin’ boys in this house. It’s a shame that I can’t get over that nightmare of a helmet crash that keeps me from agreeing to let them play any organized football. A backyard game with their father will have to be enough for now.

Will You Help?

Break my heart from what breaks yours
Everything I am for your kingdoms cause

If you keep up with my blog, you probably recognize the beginning of this post. I started one exactly like it back in June but as I was cooking dinner tonight with Davis, this song {Hosanna} was playing on my Pandora station and it was so fitting for this post.

As I mentioned about a month ago, I volunteer at Pendleton Place Children’s Shelter with my girls. Although I can’t go nearly as much as I would like, I think about those kids all the time. And, given the fact that I have small children, I obviously have love for the little ones but there’s a special place in my heart for the teen girls. As the Christmas season is upon us, I’m asking for your help.

You see, these girls that are placed in PP will spend Christmas with the volunteers - instead of their mom, dad or grandma. I am not trying to discount those volunteers because they are awesome and will be sacrificing their holiday to be with these children but it’s still sad, no matter how you look at it. My family has been so very blessed. My children will wake up on Christmas morning and be overcome with joy by all the many gifts they receive. However, unless donations roll in, these teen girls will wake up to a pair of socks and some pencils. Okay, maybe that’s a little extreme. But it will likely be one filled with lots of tears, sadness and heart ache. What I do know is that it won’t be like our Christmas - yours or mine.

But what if it could be like ours? What if we sacrificed just a fraction of our luxuries and donated to make Christmas happen for these girls? So maybe we don’t have Starbucks one day a week for the month of December? Or how about forgoing that weekly house cleaning just once? That could buy a flat iron or a super cute pair of rain boots for that freshman girl just trying to fit in at school during this rough time in her life. Even a $5 or $10 gift card to Wal-Mart or Target can go towards the purchase of a young girl's ‘wish.’

Listen, I know that money is tight and that ‘extras’ may be a thing of the past. Our family is feeling the crunch, too. We can’t afford to give a lot but these girls are already doing without where their families are concerned. Clearly we can’t do anything to help those situations but we can help to make their Christmas at Pendleton Place a little more enjoyable.

To find out more about making Christmas special for a teenage girl, go here and click on ‘Holiday Help Information.’

If you are interested in making a donation, please contact Leslie Whiteside at 864-467-3650 or email her at lwhiteside@pendletonplace.org. I’m also planning a trip to PP on 12/19 so I’d be happy to deliver any of your gifts on that visit.

Break my heart for what breaks yours. This speaks to the deepest part of my heart. I pray every day that Jesus will let me see the things of this world that grieve him. Is it because I like to feel sad? No. Of course not. It’s because when my heart breaks, I don’t forget. And when I don’t forget, I am moved to action. If that’s what it takes, then break on…..

Oh the Memories

We did it. We actually made a trip back to Missouri and had no major drama on the drive. This means one of two things – either my boys are reaching new levels of maturity or I’m moving into a state of oblivion. Or perhaps a little of both. And note that I said no major drama – in our family, there is always something to write about. Oh and I only took one picture on Thanksgiving from my phone so if you’re reading this post for pictures, turn back now.

We kept our normal schedule of leaving after work on Friday and driving for a couple of hours before stopping for dinner in NC. This time we chose to keep it classy with a hearty Shoney’s seafood buffet just outside of Asheville before continuing along on our 14-hour overnight journey.

Yes, I do realize that there are plenty of dining options but we just seem to ‘fit’ in at Shoney’s and don’t get near the stares from the fellow patrons when the little people are feeling flamboyant {unless it’s 7:00 on a Tuesday morning and we’re interrupting the Red Hat Club’s weekly breakfast meeting}. Although, now that I write that, I am remembering the older couple sitting across from us, not speaking to each other but instead studying their smart phones intently, and clearly annoyed by the loudness of our table. Maybe it was throwing their concentration off in their evening Scrabble game ….I don’t know.

After Dayne got spooked by Shoney the Bear and Dagen announced to the dining hall that his daddy needed to take a pill so that he could eat the fish without having an allergic reaction, we paid the bill, took a potty break and headed out.

And speaking of potty breaks, we had to take a few more than usual on the way out and, for whatever reason, they begged to not go inside the truck stops and just pee-pee in a cup. Now, after our Disney drive, I was not looking to make this a routine part of our traveling but it’s really a lesser of two evils – either I smell the odor for a minute and pray their cup doesn’t runneth over OR I wonder what sort of germ they will pick up on the door handles of the public restroom so whatever…..they peed in a cup and I got over it. It really is easier. There, I said it.

Have I mentioned that I don’t sleep at all on the drive? Dallas doesn’t seem to have any trouble when it’s my shift {and why would he? I’m awesome behind the wheel!} but I just cannot seem to fall asleep when he’s driving. I don’t know that it’s entirely because his driving scares me but it could have a little to do with it. I mean, come on. Whenever I do finally fall into a semi-REM deep sleep, it doesn’t take long for Dallas to run over on those loud shoulder bumps that will sit you straight up in your seat with fear. After that happens once, I’m done. Oh well, right? Don’t get me wrong - I want to meet Jesus but preferably in my sleep and not going over the side of the Smokies. You know, if I have any say at all….

As we were rolling on I-24 through Kentucky, I recognized a familiar exit and was taken back a few years. Have I ever shared with you the craziness of our move to SC? I’m not talking about how the whole story played out to how our move came to be but the physical relocation. I flipped through some old posts and I don’t think I’ve ever blogged about it and simply must because it is definitely unforgettable. No, wait. Unforgettable sounds peaceful and romantic and this disaster was anything but peaceful so we’ll go with notable.

Ahem. We pulled out of the Show-Me-State with Dallas driving a 24-ft U-Haul truck {pulling our little Saturn on a trailer} and me driving a Dodge Durango with the two boys. Given those memories alone, I almost have a panic attack. Dagen was already excelling in his stellar interrogation skills and Davis had just given up his paci. Oh wait, that sounds like he willingly handed his bink over and said, ‘I’m done.’ It was actually a novel idea from his father that he gives it up before he turned a year old. He clearly wasn’t thinking about the two-day trip ahead of us me.

Day one ran fairly smooth, all things considered. Or so I thought. Somewhere along the way, just a few hours before we hit our destination for the day, we stopped off in Kentucky to fill up both vehicles. And this is where it got interesting. You see, this monster of a motor vehicle that was carrying our life inside also happened to be sucking some serious oil. Each time we stopped for gas, we also had to fill it with oil….and put the cap back on. That would prove to be a key step in the process.

A few miles down the road, we decided to break in Kentucky – Calvert City, to be exact – and stay the night. If memory serves correctly, we only chose this as our stopping point because the boys were screaming and we weren’t sure how much further we had until the next food-and-lodging options would appear {sigh! – this was before the iPhone maps existed}. It was definitely NOT because it was visually appealing. Anyway, we pulled into our motel, locked up the vehicles and hit the sack.

The next morning, we got up, ate our complimentary continental breakfast courtesy of Super 8 {don’t judge – it was a fairly clean establishment, especially given its redneck locale} and headed out. We had a busy day ahead of us that included a trip to the Nashville Zoo and we wanted to get a good jump on the day, considering the scorching temps they were calling for in Tennessee on the first day of June.

Here’s where it got interesting. Here’s where I about lost it. After Dallas loaded me and the boys up in the Durango, Dallas jumped in the U-Haul only to find that it wouldn’t start. Ruh-roh. He got out, popped the hood and probably wanted to cry. Or so I assume. There, in the oil spot, sat the last oil container he had used in place of the cap.

His first thought was that he blew the engine because he ran it out of oil but, before jumping to conclusions, we just decided to drive over to the local auto parts store and buy a cap and a quart of oil. And so after waiting a good while for them to open for business {remember, we were up and at ‘em very early in hopes of leaving early}, we finally got our supplies and headed back to Super 8.

Only the cap didn’t do the trick. After several attempts, the truck still wouldn’t start. At this point, we’re pretty sure that Dallas’ forgetfulness was going to cost us our boys’ college funds from blowing the engine on this beast. We had no idea what to do so we called the 1-800 service number for help. Much to our surprise, they told us they would send out a technician to assist. Oh but it might be an hour. No problem. We can wait an hour. Three {3} hours later and lots of quality time at McD’s PlayLand, the good ole’ boys from U-Haul arrived to help us out.

After Dallas explains to good ole’ boy #1 what we know to be true about the pre-existing oil leak and the recent events of the missing cap, GOB #1 got in and started it right up. What the…..? How did you do that? ‘Y’all didn’t have this there truck in the parking gear.’

Excuse me? Come again? I mean, clearly I should have been singing songs of praise that the engine wasn’t blown but I plead temporary insanity. All I was thinking was, ‘YOU.HAVE.GOT.TO.BE.KIDDING.ME.’ And I may or may not have wanted to shake my sweet, loving husband but I didn’t. All I really recall was saying, ‘Let's go NOW.’

Whatever. We made it here, we love it here and now, as we travel back for visits, we can giggle about it but I assure you, I was not giggling at the time. It was 90 degrees at sunrise and my children were incapable of understanding our delay. Dagen had one thing on his mind – zoo animals – and I was not able to convince him that McDonald’s was a great temporary consolation, at least not until I whipped out cash for their famous apple pies and French fries. That might be when we realized that feeding Dagen junk food would forever be speaking his love language. Listen, you do what it takes to survive….

There’s really nothing left to share about that trip. I mean, what could follow that mess that would be worthy of remembering? Let me answer that for you - NOTHING.

Halloween 2011

Is it just me or does it seem like Halloween lasts a week now? There’s not just one night of trick-or-treating, there’s a neighborhood party and then a church festival all followed by the knocking on doors of complete strangers in hopes that they give you candy and not an earful for waking their baby or interrupting their favorite re-run of MASH. Maybe I’m getting grumpy in my old age but I felt like this year it was never ending and I was even more afraid that the costumes wouldn’t hold up for three events. Fortunately, I was wrong.

And so here was our line up for this year’s festivities –

*Dagen was a football player, again. You see, if you look back to last year, he was also a football player. Poor kid, he wants so badly to play football for the city or the Y but, unfortunately, I am having serious reservations about him playing. Baseball, basketball and soccer I have no qualms with but football is rough and rowdy and aggressive. True, Dagen’s personality fits every single one of those characteristics and he’s actually really fast and certainly has the physical build of a left tackle but all I can envision is a debilitating hit and I start hyperventilating. I mean, some days I’m ready to hang up his baseball cleats and glove and enroll him in ballet because I know that in any sport he can get hurt but, with football, the chances are much greater. Yeah, whatev. One day he’ll play but for now I’d like to remain in my bubble, thank you.



*Davis was Woody from Toy Story. He actually asked to be a cowboy {because he loves Woody} so as I was trying to piece the costume together, we found out that a fellow teacher of Dallas’ had the actual Woody costume AND it was in Davis’ size so it worked out great. Although we did try to find cowboy boots, we were unsuccessful and I refused to spend a load of cash on a pair of boots he would not wear outside of this costume so we went with rain boots. Close enough.



*Dayne was Robin, as in Batman and Robin, but without the Batman cohort. Even though we had his partner’s costume, the ‘partner’ in this family wanted to be Woody so Dayne was flying solo without back-up. It’s not like he really cared nor did he have a say in the matter. We were going with a goal of zero dollars out-of-pocket and because this was a hand-me-down from the brothers before him, we hit that goal. Well, with the exception of one new football mouth piece for the eldest.



All in all, despite the craziness of the extended holiday, it was fun. They are all at great ages and don’t require so much assistance from us which makes it really nice. And of course the added bonus of sharing in their loot after they've passed out with exhaustion is not so bad, either.



Speaking of loot, did anyone see the ‘I Told My Kids We Ate All Their Halloween Candy’ video from Jimmy Kimmel’s show? Well, we pulled the same prank on our boys and it was pretty funny….borderline cruel but funny. Listen, this is miniscule when compared to the chaos we endure. I like to think of it as another form of free therapy for parents.

I Believe The Children Are Our Future....

"Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside"

Laugh if you like but if you were an 80's {or earlier} baby like I was, you know this song. Everyone loves a little Whitney throw back, right?

In all seriousness, though, I want to give a big shout out to Pendleton Place Children's Shelter. They are doing all that the former Mrs. Bobby Brown sang about above - teaching, loving and leading - the children of our future.

But not just any children. They are caring for those coming from broken homes, many times in the middle of the night, with only the clothes on their back. These children have been abused, neglected and are no longer safe in their environment. PP workers are loving on these kids who have lost all sense of stability and structure, assuming they ever had any to begin with. They are meeting all of their physical and emotional needs and equipping these children for what is next in their life, whatever that may be.

If not for the facilities and workers at PP, there is no telling where many of these kids would be. I have seen and heard success stories that would ROCK your world. The Bible is very clear in James 1:27 that we care for the orphans and that's exactly what these children are - orphans.

Last week at the benefit breakfast, we listened to a story about a sweet boy that, at birth, was addicted to crack cocaine. Now, five years later, he is a vibrant and healthy five-year-old boy who was cared for at Pendleton Place and later adopted by an awesome family. What a great success story and there are many more because of such a worthy establishment!

If you are in the Greenville area, I encourage you to consider donating time and/or resources to Pendleton Place. I can promise you that it WILL make a difference in the lives of helpless children. If you're not in this area, find a similar organization and get involved. If you don't have one in your area, maybe you should open your own.....

If you'd like more information, check out their website. I was honored to be a part of their 2011 Mission Video shown below. This organization really is near and dear to my heart.




"Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be
Everybody searching for a hero
People need someone to look up to
I never found anyone to fulfill my needs
A lonely place to be"

And now you can't get the song out of your head. You're welcome.

Potty Time

PSA – I’m ending the numbering of my d’s beginning with this post. It’s too confusing for you, especially if you read a story about d1 pooping his pants and then begin to look at my husband funny because you’re thinking I wrote that about him, etc. So, effective immediately, I will be using their legal names. I didn’t before because I thought I was keeping them safe from child predators but the truth is those people are everywhere and not naming my child on a blog post isn’t really going to keep them any safer. If I wanted to be sure they were never kidnapped, I would have to place them in an underground shelter to forever live as hermits and that is just plain crazy. Now, that being said, if anyone ever does decide to nab a one of my boys, I will hunt them down. Capish? I may not be very intimidating but you don’t mess with Mama Bear's babies. Okay, so now that we have that out of the way….

These days, we’re just as busy as ever but with the added fun of potty training a 2½ year old. Oh yes, good times. I’ll be honest, though – I didn’t even want to start potty training but Ms. Harris, Dayne’s teacher, told me it was time. He was staying dry all day {including naps} and using the potty but losing all he learned when he came home because Mommy was lazy. Not her words but mine. On a recent trip to the park {before we officially started 'training'}, he told me he had to go potty and I told him to go in his diaper. Boy, I bet he was confused.

However, I’m happy to announce that it’s been about three weeks and he’s had only a handful of accidents, which includes naps and overnights. That’s also excluding the twenty-four hour span of time where he either had a small bout of food poisoning or he picked up a digestive-tract-clearing bug on the playground. That was probably my weakest moment where I almost reached for a diaper because I was sick of cleaning up diarrhea every time he tooted. FYI - It’s a whole lot easier to do it with a Pampers on than a pair of undies.

Dayne is also known as Romeo at school. Yes, my baby boy has himself a woman and they are about the cutest little couple I’ve ever seen. Her name is Madison and, according to Dayne’s teachers, they act like they’ve been married for years. He pushes her chair up to the table at lunch, tucks her in at nap and says, ‘No poo-poo in your diaper, Ma-uh-sen.’ Just give them some Depends and a bottle of Fixodent and they're ready to be shipped off to Shady Pines together.

Allow me to present the Mr. and Mrs. of Toddler G....



On a related potty note, I’ll go ahead and mention this, although Davis will likely disown me one day. Earlier this week, Dagen and Davis woke up and, while getting ready for school, Dagen told Dallas that Davis had an accident the night before in bed. Now, they don’t sleep together – they have rooms across the hall from each other – so how did he know this and we didn’t? Well, apparently Davis was crying in the middle of the night when he woke up wet and Dagen told him to come in his room and tell him what was wrong. When he told him, Dagen got up and helped him change his clothes and get him dry bedding before both getting back in bed without ever even waking us up. I was blown away at their team work – Davis for seeking out his brother’s help and Dagen for sacrificing his comfort and sleep to help his brother out so that he didn’t have to wake us up. This is one story I don’t want to forget – especially when almost all other memories are of them beating each other to death. When it comes down to it, I have been blessed with some tender-hearted little boys.

{FTR, Davis doesn’t have a bed-wetting problem. I’m certain he would want that cleared up. He did have a lot to drink before bed and I probably told him no when he asked to go to the bathroom after he was already in bed because I probably thought he was stalling bedtime so shame on me. There, sweet child of mine, is your defense. Please forgive me for the embarrassment.}

Maybe this next tidbit of news will help Dave out in the ‘coolness’ department. Do you remember when I caught him on video singing his heart out to a Casting Crowns song? Naturally, I uploaded to Facebook, YouTube and added the link to the local Christian radio station’s FB page. Well, if you will recall, the DJ {Rob Dempsey} played it on the air one morning and it was super neat to hear my baby belting it out. Even cooler is when I got an email yesterday from Rob Dempsey himself asking me to call him ASAP. I thought it bizarre but did it anyway. He asked if we would be interested in attending the HisRadio’s 2011 Holiday Fundraising Gala on December 6th and they’re going to play Dave’s video for the audience. Isn't that crazy exciting? Ah, my little worship pastor in the making - the next Joel Houston....

Do Unto Others

Earlier this month when I attended Catalyst, I heard a message from Judah Smith. If you haven’t heard any of his preaching, you’re doing a disservice to yourself. This dude is charismatic and captivating. He leads The City Church in Seattle and his messages are unique but very clear-cut and oh-so-compelling. And he’s probably the only other guy besides Steven Furtick that can pull off skinny jeans. That doesn’t mean I don’t still think they look funny but I don’t cringe as much….

Anyway, when I came back and shared with Dallas, he started listening to Judah’s podcasts and can’t get enough of them. You should check them out sometime. BEWARE –you will quickly become an addict. There are worse things than being addicted to sermons, right? Nod your head, the answer is yes.

I’m not just rambling on and on about Judah – I do have a point to this story. A couple of days ago, Dallas came home and was telling me about the message he listened to earlier that day. Judah does something with his children that we’re starting with ours. When Dallas drops Dagen and Davis off at school {which very soon might be ME doing – WOOP – and picking up – double WOOP}, he reminds them of three things, a pact of sorts – ‘Because we are Darnell’s and we love the Lord, we are going to:

1) Be kind
2) Be encouraging
3) Look for lonely people

Simple yet pretty profound, right? We know it might take a while for some of it to really ‘click’ but I think it’s a great reminder each morning for how they can be more like Jesus with those three easy actions.

It’s weird that this happened – Dallas hearing that sermon and having that lay on his heart – because it triggered some memories from my past that I guess I’ve tried really hard to repress. It just so happens that these memories cover all three of the above actions - or, rather, the lack thereof.

When I was in the 4th grade, we lived in Massachusetts. There was a classmate of mine - we’ll call her ‘Callie’ - who I assume had some developmental delays and it was pretty obvious that she was from a very poor home. She talked funny, her hair was always a hot mess and her clothes were usually the same three sweat-suits rotated out. But what I do remember is her trying so hard to ‘fit in’ with the other girls, particularly me. She wanted to and tried so hard to be my friend yet all I wanted to do was make fun of her. While I made my friends laugh, I made ‘Callie’ cry - daily. I was a ruthless, wretched bully.

Here I am, two decades later, and I am just sickened by my behavior. That was someone’s child! That was somebody’s baby girl that I treated like garbage! Who on earth did I think I was to act like I was any better than her? I wasn’t wearing Z Cavaricci jeans and K-Swiss, either. I was poor, too, but apparently I figured that if I kept the attention on ‘Callie’ being underprivileged, no one would notice I had the same pair of pants on every day.

I’m not really sure what I can do now. We moved after that year and I never saw her again. Even if I ever find ‘Callie’ now, on Facebook or by some other means of communication, it will never make amends for the person I was or the things that I did to her but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.

You know what’s crazy? I can remember all of these details about ‘Callie’ yet I can’t even remember what we ate for dinner last week. As much as I’d like to forget, I think I was supposed to remember so that someday I would feel the burning conviction in my soul and turn it into something good. Maybe it has something to do with my burden now for the homeless, the impoverished, the hopeless. Maybe it’s just another way God is going to use something I did that was so awful to bring Him glory. Just maybe.

I know you hear that ‘kids are just mean these days,’ that it’s ‘normal’ and all a part of growing up but it’s not. It’s never normal and it’s never okay. Just because that’s how it’s always been doesn’t mean that’s how it always needs to be. Teach your children to love themselves and love others like Jesus loves them. Imagine a world where we all applied the Golden Rule. It is not impossible – nothing is. {Luke 1:37}

Pumpkin Patch 2011

We headed out today after church to a local pumpkin patch. I was able to snap a few pics of the crew but, believe me, it was no easy task. Here's just a sample of the many complaints --

'Why do you want another picture?'
'AGAIN? You just took one of me with a pumpkin.'
'Oh my gosh, I'm so tired of smiling.'

The next time I convince myself that we're ready to skip on over naps to do something fun, remind me that it's not worth the headache. Sunday has and always should be a day of rest and that goes for the entire family.

Just to prove that I wasn't kidding about the aversion to posing--how's that for a Cranky McCrankster?

For whatever reason, his tune changed a few moments later...probably after someone mentioned ice cream...

Darnell boys posing as farm animals, though d2 and D1 need to switch places if we are correctly matching

Loving the 'punkin'

This shot looks like they're all co-existing peacefully when, in reality, they were just breaking from the argument of whose turn it was to sit in the seat

C'mon Muscles!

Photogenic little guy

Is this really necessary? D1 insisted we all sit on the pumpkin, even me.

Let the record show that I posted these within hours of our visit. That never happens but since the Daddy and his boys are attempting to burn down tree stumps in the backyard this afternoon, I figured I should seize the moment to be productive. And by productive, I don't mean cleaning my filthy house. Besides, given the methods they're using to burn said stumps, I may not have a house to clean after they torch the ground on which it stands....

Awakening

As you read this, do you hear anything? If not, turn your speakers on and CRANK.IT.UP.

I wasn’t planning to blog today during my lunch hour but when I heard this song, it ‘inspired’ me to throw a few sentences together and call it a post. This first song in my play list says so much about where D1 and I are right now in our lives and I am overcome with joy and happiness. We have been physically, emotionally and spiritually rocked and there is nothing like it.

Our eyes have been opened to what matters in this life, what is truly important. It’s Jesus. Only Jesus. We live in this abundant life because of His love, because he rescued us from the chains of our sin.

And to add to our recent ‘awakening,’ I was fortunate enough to attend an amazing leadership conference last week in Atlanta called Catalyst. Oh-Em-Gee - it was one of the most incredible experiences ever. I could blog for hours on how it impacted me but you still wouldn’t understand how phenomenal it was. I will say this - if you ever have the chance to attend, do not pass it up. Period. Only thing it was missing was my sweet hubs who stayed behind and allowed me to participate – forever grateful, BigD!

When I say He’s blessing, I mean He’s REALLY blessing us. Are we loaded down rich? Not with money but with the things not of this world we are. Yesterday was just one more example of Romans 8:28 in my life - how He works all things to the good of those who love Him. Though I can’t share just yet the details, I will soon and I am ecstatic but all the glory and gratitude goes to my Provider. It’s nothing I did fo’ sho!

Do you consider me some sort of Jesus ‘freak’ now? Because you should....

Whatever

Life is crazy....again. No time to blog....again. Whatever.

When I was thumbing through pics on my memory card, I realized that I didn't upload several good ones so I'm just throwing the pictures up here with some quick captions. If the photos aren't self explanatory, come up with your own story but make it good. And if your story involves boogers or BM's, you might be right on.

Check out the creeper in the background.....he is such a goob

Memorial Day visit from S&K and their sweet twin girls, Ava & Cora

d2's last day of K-4

Summer Baseball 2011

Pay special attention to this funny shot. The cupcake was so irresistable that it had to be eaten during the team prayer....for once, it wasn't a child of mine.....

A City Girl Can Survive

I survived.

A bear did not attack me, a bug did not bite me and I did not have to substitute dry leaves for TP. And for those things, I am extremely grateful.

However, it wouldn’t be an accurate reflection of our mini get-away if I didn’t share the minor details.

On our way to the state park, which is about 45 minutes from our house, we passed a Starbucks. And, since I was driving, I decided that, yes, I would love to start my trip off with a Salted Caramel Mocha latte, thank you very much. Especially since it was cloudy and cool and the weather people were forecasting chances of rain. Aside from a forest fire or being invaded by skunks, that would probably be right up there as worst case scenario for me so I was praying that the rain stayed away. And it did, thank goodness.

As we made our way up the hill to our campsite, I will admit that I started to have difficulty breathing. Because of the elevation changes? Okay, I’ll go with that. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that, with every turn, I watched the bars on my phone decrease. Not power bars but service bars. Once we reached our ‘stomping ground,’ I not only had no signal, I had the dreaded ‘No Service’ indicator.

Seriously? No, really. What am I supposed to do all night? I can’t get texts? No status updates? This is 2011, after all. Where are the towers? Surely someone at AT&T can climb a few oak trees and set something up. After I had a speedy meltdown alone, I did what I had to do. I turned my precious little friend off for the night and proceeded to unload.

We spent the rest of the evening visiting with friends while the kids played football. After dinner, we did what was probably my favorite part – roasted some ‘mellers and made some S’mores. I’m pretty sure I ate my weight in those darn things and I enjoyed every last drop.

Soon after that, we headed to our tent for the night. Oh my word, it was painful. And cold. Not the see-your-breath cold but a damp cold, nonetheless. Although the tent was set up on an official camping pad specifically designed for tents, the ground felt like a concrete pad. We only had blankets under us {no sleeping bags – we’re amateurs, remember?} because an air mattress wouldn’t fit. After we all lay down, we covered with about three blankets along with scarves and hoodies.

Five minutes after we are all buried in blankets, d1 says he smells something on his hand. We told him to just forget about it, that it was probably something from his last bathroom trip {ick!} and to just go to sleep. Then he jumped and said something was crawling on him. We put a light on him to find he had smashed half a spider and was holding the rest of the remains in his hand {he thinks he smelled his blood - what in the world?}. That gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling that makes you want to go back to sleep, doesn’t it? Good thing I couldn’t if I wanted to.

Thinking back, it’s funny how my fears changed. Before we headed to camp, my fear of going to sleep in the tent was that I would wake up in the belly of a wild beast. Once we actually got there and lay down for the night, I realized that I was more afraid to turn over for fear that I was going to hurt my back. Now if that doesn’t show my age…..

In any case, the night was long, I woke up bruised on each hip from attempting to change positions BUT I did not go to the van. Yes, I am quite proud of that.

And I’m not the only paranoid fool in the family. The next morning, when d1 heard a dog bark, he popped up and said, ‘Was that a coyote?’ We said no and he laid back down. A few minutes later, someone was using a hammer and he popped up again and said, ‘Was that a gun? Is someone shooting at us?’ I guess the apple doesn’t fall far, huh?

After breakfast with the friends, we set out for a hike. As much as I’m anti-nature, I can’t deny that it was some beautiful scenery. We made it to the first ‘check point’ up the mountain and headed back down. I did enjoy it but I did also have anxiety over every single step the boys took so 0.5 miles was plenty.

We headed back to the camp site, ate some lunch {we did A LOT of eating in an 18-hour period, which was awesome!} and then headed back home.

So, in the grand scheme of things, I would call our overnight camping trip a success. I did enjoy the fresh air and the feeling of having NOTHING to do. Will I be doing it again anytime soon? Not in a tent. A camper, maybe, but not a tent. I’m too old for that mess.








**Dear Table Rock State Park Marketing Department,

False advertising is not cool. Your website said Wi-Fi capabilities but it didn’t say that the Wi-Fi is only available within 50 feet of the front gate. Let’s go ahead and add a disclosure statement to your brochure to prevent any further headaches and breakdowns from loyal customers.

Signed,

Not So Happy Camper

{Just helping out my fellow FB/Twitter/Pinterest addicts…..}

Bug Bites, Barettes and Bears - Oh My!

Before I had children of my own, I always hoped for a boy as my first born. I realize I had nothing to do with that outcome and I do accept that God gave me THREE boys and ZERO girls for a reason.

Some days it’s not hard to see why. I mean, I don’t wear dresses ‘just because’ – I reserve those occasions for weddings and funerals. I think that others look stunning in them but I just feel weird in them and can't seem to pull off the intended look so I opt for the jeans. Another reason I’m pretty sure I didn’t have a girl is that I don’t have patience for French braids and barrettes. I would probably give it a shot one time and then force the kid to either wear a Cardinals baseball hat or get in line for a buzz cut with the boys, thus scarring her sweet little self forever.

So, now that you’ve read those confessions of where I lack some femininity {yes, it’s a word – I checked}, one might assume I am a total tomboy. Most days, I might agree with that. However, I’m pretty sure the definition of a tomboy means that they love all things outdoors. That's not so much the truth with this chic. Don’t get me wrong - I enjoy the outdoors but if I'm going to spend more than a few minutes outside, I do have a few {small} requirements. I need to be in the shade, it needs to be no hotter than 75 degrees but not so cool that I can see my breath. I don't do port-a-potties, all insects need to stay at least 50 feet from my flesh and there shall never be a substitute for toilet paper. Period.

Here's another confirmation that I'm not falling under any tomboy stereotype. We're going camping this weekend. I should be pumped up.

Except I'm not.



But I'm going and, no matter what, I am going to put my biggest smile on and make memories with my men. Maybe good ones, maybe not so good ones but memories nonetheless. I will take my camera and I do fully intend to snap some pictures for the scrapbook. And who knows? Maybe one day my boys will see the sacrifices I made for their happiness and want to reciprocate the love by sending me for an indoor spa day. Okay, maybe not. But who knows? Maybe I'll end up enjoying the experience.


Unless something crazy happens.



As comical as that is, it's really got me freaked out. Did I mention that we're sleeping in a tent on the ground of a state park? I'm not interested in becoming Cujo Bear's 2am snack. I can't express my fears in front of my children because my self-induced panic attack might permanently traumatize them but it's a valid concern. Are you laughing at me? Is the city girl in me shining brightly right now?

I will say one thing with absolute certainty. I'm not a fast runner. In fact, any time I do pick up the pace {usually chasing d3 when he's running with a sharp object or headed to the toilet with my iPhone}, I hear giggles from the peanut gallery. That's how infrequent it is and how awkward it looks. However, if I see a bear, you better believe I'm grabbing one kid in each arm and hightailing it to the nearest shotgun-armed park ranger. And you know what they say about running from bears - you don't have to be the fastest, you just have to be faster than the slowest person. GOT IT.

Oh, I hope someone brings coffee.

Mr. Sandman, Bring Me a Love Note and A Grilled Cheese

If I had a quarter for every time I’ve heard, ‘Wow, never a dull moment in your house,’ I’d be loaded rich because it’s so totally true. Some of those ‘moments’ make me laugh, some make me cry and some make me just walk straight to my filthy master bathroom that the boys view as their personal urinal and sit while I practice my breathing. Not so much the pregnant, hoo-hoo breathing but more of the ‘I’m gonna break something or someone in half if I don’t calm down and count to ten’ breathing. Last week was no different……

And because my boys know my OCD tendencies and how I like things to be equal and balanced, they all gave me their own individual funnies to write about. These actually made the laughing moments list….well, eventually I laughed at d1 after a few minutes and d3 after a few days…..

Let’s switch things up a bit and do last born first…..

One of the hazards of d3 being a boy is his love for outdoors. He loves all things sports {duh} but when he’s at pre-school, it would appear that he loves to spend his playground time in the sand box. I know this not because his teacher tells me so but because every day when we get home and he takes off his shoes, he dumps out a cup of sand onto the floor. Every day. No big deal, really. We have a stellar vacuum and this carpet has seen way more nastiness than a few thousand grains of sand. We do have a garage where he could easily kick his shoes off but getting that kid to do something he does not want to do is not an easy task and we choose our battles rather than fighting day and night. Oh, the similarities I see in him to another certain lad in our family but that's beside the point.

Back to the story. I recently determined something else about his travels to the sand box that I really didn’t want to. As I was changing a blowout nappie of his last weekend {potty training is next on our to-do list and we can’t hardly wait }, I was having a hard time wiping his hiney. It felt….gritty. How could that be? He hadn’t been in the sandbox for at least 24 hours and he had had a bath the night before. A few hours later, he had another doozy of a diaper and, again, I couldn’t help but feel like I was exfoliating his bum. What in the world?

Oh wait. I get it now. Gritty-textured diarrhea can really only mean one thing – this kid is supplementing his two meals plus two snacks at pre-school with a helping of parasite-enriched sand! ICK. Should I be worried that he’s lacking some important nutrient that makes him crave this crud? Sheesh. I am hopeful, though, that he had enough and realized it’s really not at all tasty because I haven’t changed anymore of said diapers since last weekend. Whatever bug he swallowed {literally} must have made its way through and taken all the playground padding with it.

Now for a priceless quote from the middle son during one of our conversations on cooking…..

d1: Mommy, how do you make grilled cheese?

Me: You butter two slices of bread, throw a piece of cheese in the middle and cook it in a skillet. Easy as that.

d2: Well, what makes it black?


Bless his honest, itty-bitty self. He really had no idea that he had just insulted my cooking. And I did burn the last couple of sammies so I just chuckled. Although he’s never really been a picky eater and typically the one asking for salad before pizza, he’s gotten into a bad habit lately of complaining about what we’re eating and how I cooked it wrong so the fact that his question wasn’t really a complaint but more of an observation was somewhat refreshing.

And for the finale from my first born son, never to be outdone….

This week has been a struggle for him in the behavior department, specifically backtalk. Actually, I think D1 and I are the ones struggling with it because he really doesn’t seem bothered much by it. So far, he’s only popped off his mouth to us and not his teachers, which is good. That is, until this past Wednesday night when he took it with him to church. Unacceptable.

The consequences were steep for this offense – weekend sleepover cancelled. He.Was.Devastated. For two days, he asked over and over and over if we would change our minds and each time we said no, he melted down. Over and over again. I’ll admit – a lot of times we’ll soften up and let him ‘earn it back’ but not this time. It was clearly having an impact on him and we needed something to help the lesson sink in.

Here’s where the humor comes in. This morning, the day of when the sleepover was set to occur, d1 wakes up and asks me if I found his note. I have no clue what he’s talking about but he told me to go back to my room and look around for a note from him. Um, okay. So I go look on my night stand and dresser. I look under the bed, on top of the mounds of dirty clothes on the floor, under the bag of chips on D1's side of the room. Still, I see nothing. I glance over at my rumpled up covers on my bed and do a double take when I see this…..




Surely not. Is that blue ink on my cream colored sheets? Why, yes. Yes, it is. He wrote me a note, alright. On my SHEETS. Oh, the thoughts going through my head were not motherly. Maybe not even legal. So what if the note starts off with a declaration of love? That was merely the preface to a plea so, in my mind, it kind of cancels out the sentiment.

Here’s the funny part, crazy as that sounds. I thought he wrote the note to me directly on the sheets but, if you look closely, the writing is actually on a piece of Scotch tape that is stuck to the bed.



Apparently he came into my room last night when I was in the shower and wrote it on the tape {which now explains why I saw the craft bucket randomly dumped out on the bathroom sink last night} and then placed on my side of the bed. I think he knew he would have been shipped off to that boot camp place I refer to far too often had he gone and scribbled directly on the linens. He must also think that I carefully climb into bed each night and examine my sheets thoroughly before falling into a peaceful slumber. Not so much, kid. More like collapsing every night from exhaustion and fatigue, hence the reason why I slept on top of your love note.

Sleepover ruling was not overturned, despite the innovative appeal. Nice try, though.

A Teachable Moment for Us All

Warning: The following was not intended to be a short novel but it is what it is. And if you don't want to hear biblical truths, you might want to skip on over to another blog. This might hurt.

As you know, most of the conversations I have with my boys these days go in one of two directions. Many times I’m screaming behavior-modifying them {doesn’t that sound so much nicer?} in my GI Jane military voice - ‘Please remove your underwear from the table and put them back ON your body. The birthday suit is not acceptable attire for dinner, especially on the cloth-covered seat cushions. We have enough stains without the addition of your dirty hiney.’

And then there are the other exchanges we have where one of them is telling a story and, due to their age and inability to use discretion, it turns out pretty comical -‘Why is Grandma so moley? It scares me. I don’t want her sleeping in my room when she comes to visit. She might leave some of her moles in my bed.’ {For the record, I’m not outing my mother-in-law on her skin tags; they told her this when she was here last month so she’s fully aware of how it freaks them out. She happens to find it funny herself. Just wanted to clear that up.}

This next conversation falls into its own category and I don’t really know what to call it yet. I guess I could just call it the ‘teachable moments’ – it’s not disciplining because there’s no ‘crime’ being committed by the child but it’s definitely not comical.

In the car to school:


Radio Announcer: ‘…….last night, a robber broke into a home and stole several large appliances…..’

d1: Mommy, are robbers bad guys because they steal appliances?’

Me: ‘Well, they are breaking the law so I guess you might say they are bad guys.’

d1: ‘So they’re going to the bad place when they die, right?’

Me: {still not picking up on the ‘moment’ here – I’m a little slow in the morns} ‘Not necessarily. Just because they break the law doesn’t mean they don’t love Jesus. Either way, I'm sure it makes Jesus very sad at their actions.’

d1: ‘But if I’m good, if I don’t steal and if I help my homeless friends, I’ll get to heaven, right?’


Let me stop right there. Although I should have seen where this was headed, it took me a second to realize his thought process and how incredibly important it was that I answer this correctly and biblically.

So basically what I’m hearing my seven-year-old ask me is that if he is a good boy and does a few charitable projects in his life, he’ll spend eternity in heaven? NO BUENO. This is, in my opinion, a lot of what is wrong with the world today where churches are concerned and it’s two-fold. People either think that their salvation is determined by how they conduct their lives {‘I’m doing okay as long as I’m ‘better’ than the next person’} or they think they aren’t ‘eligible’ for salvation because they’ve already done too many ‘bad’ things.

It just so happens that I fall into the second category. See what happens when you come from a background like mine? You can identify with so many jacked up situations, although I have a feeling a lot of people can relate here.

For 20+ years, I felt like I was not good enough to be one of those ‘Christian folk.’ Those people always seemed like they had it all together – the clothes, the kids, the careers, the whole package. {PS - I’m learning that the more they look all put together, the less they probably are}. And since I've never managed to have it 'all together,' I didn't feel like I fit that mold. It didn’t help when I had encounters as a teen with religious people who condemned such things as wearing jeans in the sanctuary. Because God cares what I wear? Really? I mean, if He didn’t want me in my nicest pair of Levi’s, why on earth would he want me with my reviled past?

Or how about this one? This is another true story of how the ‘church’ rejected me and likely led to my distaste for any and all churches in general. I was about 13 or so. My brother and I lived with our grandma off and on during my mom’s jail stints. My grandma was an amazing woman but that’s another post. Anyway, when we stayed with her, she always liked for us to go to church with her. I didn’t usually argue with her because there were cute boys in the youth group and I liked boys. Hello? I was a teenage girl. One night at youth group, I remember talking to one of the boys. I can’t tell you what we talked about now and it's irrelevant. However, I do remember the youth group pastor coming over to him and asking him to move away from me, to find someone else to talk to. The boy didn’t understand – I mean, we weren’t holding hands or trying to sneak a peek. We were talking. He asked why and this youth pastor whispered in his ear, ‘Just move. You don’t want to get mixed up with her.’ Too bad his voice carried and his whispered words were felt to the core....

I mean, dang. Who says that? I’m not trying to run this pastor down. I’m sure he’s a nice man and had his reasons. After all, I’m a mother of three little boys. When they are teens, you better believe I will be psycho-stalking every last one of them to know who, what, when, where, why and how they think they'd get away with whatever they're up to but that’s beside the point. It wasn’t about the boy. It was about the way that pastor made me feel. I’m sure the staff was familiar with our home life and we were probably on the many Sunday School prayer chains but I felt like dirt after that. In hindsight, I think about how, had that conversation gone a little differently, had that pastor reached out to me the way I now know Jesus would have, it could have been a changing point in the trajectory of those next ten years of my life. See my ties to that second category? That one whisper that I guess I shouldn't have overheard left me with anything but a desire to know God. If it meant I would feel like garbage after an evening with the church folk, no thanks. I’ll pass.

I'm just constantly reminded that, as followers of Jesus, we need to make sure we’re not sending out either of these messages to our kids and to the entire world, especially those who don’t know the Lord. I do NOT want my boys buying into either one of these ridiculous shenanigans that have infiltrated the church bodies, neither of which are biblical.

D1 and I will spend our lives making sure they know that salvation is never an earned reward. Ephesians 2:8 says that ‘God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God.’ I know now that salvation has NOTHING to do with works. I know that I am saved by GRACE and that nothing that I do will ever be enough but that doesn’t mean that I stop working for the glory of God and for His Kingdom.

It means that because of my faith, I will continue my works. James 2:18 outlines it perfectly. Check this out. ‘Now someone may argue, “Some people have faith; others have good deeds.” But I say, “How can you show me your faith if you don’t have good deeds? I will show you my faith by my good deeds.” This used to confuse me but now it’s very clear. Our salvation is not dependent on our works but, by our salvation, the works will come. John 3:3 says the same thing – ‘Jesus replied, ‘I tell you the truth, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God.’ His words, not mine. That is biblical.

Secondly, we will make sure they know that, although no one is ‘good enough’ to go to heaven, it is designed for everyone. EVERYONE. Even that guy out robbing old people’s homes for their Fridgidaires. Even the lady turning tricks on 2nd Street to support her family. Even THOSE people. ESPECIALLY those people. Hate the sin, not the sinner. Anyone heard of John 3:16? It says “For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.’ His words, not mine. That is biblical.

OK, we know that salvation is not dependent on our good deeds, right? I think we've established that much. However, that doesn't mean we just stop and become stagnant. There’s this catchy phrase I heard recently – Found People Find People – and I think it’s dead on. By serving others, in whatever capacity you feel led, you are serving the Lord. You are showing those in need that you are helping without expecting anything in return. When you're doing this, there's a good chance that they will want what you have. Meaning your joy and happiness, not your Coach purse. Whether you’re serving the homeless, mentoring or adopting a fatherless child or volunteering with the elderly, you can make an impact. Our family absolutely believes in the power of serving others in need {Isaiah 58:10}. We only wish we could do more and we continually ask God to reveal opportunities and use us to be a light for Him. It only becomes an issue when someone believes it is their path to salvation, which is where my son’s mind was headed.

I'll be honest and admit that, although I know and believe all of this, it's still difficult for me at times. I struggle with thinking that I have to be involved in this, that and the other to serve God adequately and that's just not true. I know that He wants me to do all that I can in the most effective way possible. I know that I have to be open to opportunities He presents in my life, some that may be way out of my comfort zone. I know I need to be patient and let Him direct my paths. Too bad I stink at having patience. I guess this is yet one more area that He's working on in me.

After giving it some further thought, I realized something else. d1 knows about heaven. He knows how you can and can't get there. Maybe he doesn’t fully grasp the enormous concept of the Trinity {do you? Because I don’t} but he knows what he’s been told and what he’s learned over the years at home and from his SS teachers. He knows that the only way to forever with Jesus is by receiving Him in his heart, believing in His power and seeking a deep relationship with Him. So why would he ask me that question about getting to heaven?

I'll tell you why. Satan was all over my boy. He wants him to question his child-like faith that is growing by the minute. He wants him to believe that which is not true. The worldly views are pushed on our children left and right and, as parents, we need to be on high alert for this mess. Spiritual warfare is at its peak - just watch the news for any given two-minute interval and you'll know that. We’ve got to be prepared for battle. These little people need us to have their backs against the Enemy – gear up, friends!

On The First Day of School....

....we had little drama. Praise the Lord! I'm still slightly traumatized from d1's first day of K-5 so I can truly appreciate this gift of ease.....


As always, we began the school year with a grandioso breakfast. This year the menu consisted of whole wheat brown sugar banana bread pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage links, grits and fruit smoothies. Now, before you start thinking that I'm the Betty Crocker of 2011, I will be honest and tell you that the pancakes were gross. No, really. They were disgusting. I could have probably eaten the photo of the pancakes and tasted more flavor. I knew there was a problem when they wouldn't even finish half of a pancake when they typically burn through at least three a piece. d1 did break it to me gently and said, 'I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Mommy, but this just isn't good. Do I have to eat it?' I don't know where I went wrong but I did sample a bite and they were awful. Period.

For some reason I cannot perfect specialty pancakes and I'm done trying. I've wasted way too many bowls of batter only to be irritated when they aren't edible. I've mastered a homemade ice cream cake and I can whip up a tasty meatloaf - I'll leave the pancakes to IHOP and feel no shame.

Off they go....

2nd Annual Front Porch Photo

d3 assisted me in walking d1 and d2 to their classrooms. I've got to give the little booger credit - he did really well. I had originally asked my sweet friend to keep him for a quick playdate with her little P while I did the 'First Day' duty solo {D1 has to be front and center at his school} but we were running a few minutes behind so I just put my brave panties on and took him with me. I was unexpectedly surprised by his big boy behavior. Oh the possibilities are endless with a compliant toddler, although I'm not holding my breath. He is his oldest brother's mini-me and, well, age 2-4 wasn't a walk in the park.

We haven't actually reached that 'walk in the park' period that the 'books' speak of and I don't expect d3 to be any different. How's that for optimistic? I'm just going with realistic outlook....

Making their way into the doors of Buena Vista Elementary

No tears from either boy and just a few from their quacky mother. I still can't believe I have a 2nd grader and that little d2 is in Kindergarten. Everyone always says how time flies and, in the moment, it doesn't always seem like it's moving quickly but when I walked them in this year, I felt the harsh reality that they are growing up so fast and before I know it, they'll be off to middle school and then high school. Oh, I can already feel the ulcers lighting up now....

i {heart} my boys

Some days I wonder if children, particularly mine, are physically born with emotions or if they are just developed over time.

Wait, let me rephrase that. I am well aware that they have emotions.

I know that they feel sadness because they cry when their sibling hits/kicks/bites them, depending on the perp’s preferred approach for pain. I know that they feel happiness because their faces light up when we announce that we’re heading to Pizza Inn for an all-you-can-eat dinner {it’s no secret that food is the direct line to all hearts in this house}. I also know that they feel anger because they scream, ‘you’re the meanest mommy ever and I don’t like you right now’ when they are sent to their room for jumping off of the bed/couch/stairwell. {BTW, new moms - those words don't sting anymore}

I don’t doubt any of those emotions. I know they have them, obviously. What about things like compassion, sympathy and consideration? I don’t see much of that. At least not very often and I attribute that to their age but, recently, I’ve been pleasantly surprised.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There have been times in my seven years of mothering where I’ve seen an action or two from the little guys and I was taken back by their ability to empathize with someone else. However, this week it happened on several occasions and I just can’t stop thinking about it.

It seems like I’m not only witnessing a new level of maturity {even if it only lasts for seconds at a time} but I’m slowly seeing heart changes and that’s what excites me. It’s like an awakening inside of them {even if it only lasts for seconds at a time} and it’s awesome. The heart is what we’re fighting for.

Allow me to share some of this week’s conversations and observations of my two oldest, sweet boys {the jury is still out on the compassion level forming in #3}. That bolded word back there is pretty big for me – usually my stories begin a little different and I’m not always so much doting….

A few days ago, d1 and d2 were doing something in the dining room. I don’t really recall every detail although they’ve become quite fond of Dining Room Dodge Ball after their daddy instructed them on how to pull off a quick game with minimal damage. Anyway, something happened that ended with d2 crying because of something d1 had done. After hearing both sides, I sent d1 to his room for a few minutes to cool off and planted d2 on the stairs for time out.

When d1 came down, I encouraged them to ‘hug it out,’ which was a new tactic I was trying as it seems these days they hate each other and it couldn’t hurt to show some love, right? Though they didn’t hug right then, what happened next had me speechless.

d2 said, ‘Mommy, I want to pray.’ Huh? I was confused. I just told you to hug and you're asking to continue your game? So I said, ‘You can play after you hug.’ In all fairness, he does have a slight speech issue with his ‘r’ so it sounded a little like ‘play.’ Then he said, ‘No, I said I want to pray -- for us.’ Um, okay. This was new but I went with it. So there we were in the dining room – me and all three little d’s {d3 wasn’t about to be left out of this event} – heads bowed, eyes closed, hands being held while d2 led us in a prayer asking Jesus to forgive everyone’s naughty behavior and to help us all make the right choices. And then they hugged and d2 told d1 he loved him.

OK, as I type this, it’s hard to not giggle at the memory but, in the moment, it was priceless. I always joke that he’s our little Billy Graham and he keeps re-affirming it. The kid just turned five and he’s requesting an impromptu prayer circle. This world could sure use more prayer warriors! Maybe it’s not compassion per se but more of a spiritual side developing in him. Either way, I am so delighted. I guess I should mention that within two minutes, they were both back in opposite corners for another round of ‘cooling off.’ Ah well. It was nice while it lasted….

And then there was today. We try to make it a part of our normal weekend routine to lie down for a nap/quiet time with the older boys while d3 is having his mid-day snooze. We use this as time to be alone with one boy at a time and today I paired up with d1. Usually we’ll have some chats while I scratch his back and then he’s out for an hour or so.

Today as we talked, though, he started asking questions about my dad. I knew the time would eventually come where the boys would start wondering where my parents were and I never really knew how to answer. I didn’t have a plan other than to keep it simple but optimistic. Now, in many parts of my childhood, that’s not so easy and I did use the tried-and-true line of, ‘one day you’ll understand’ but, in the end, I just told him that although I do have a dad, I’ve never known him. He doesn’t need to know the disappointing specifics so I left it at that. He started to ask some other questions but really focused on the father aspect and seemed a little bugged by it but then fell asleep. I thought that was the end.

Here’s where I witnessed a change in my firstborn son. Later this afternoon when we were getting ready to sit down to dinner, he randomly says, ‘Mommy, I didn’t want you to know earlier but after you told me you didn’t have a daddy, I rolled over and cried. It made me sad for you.’ I mean, really? How can a child his age feel that kind of emotion for someone else?

I had no words, just tears welling up inside of me. Not sad tears for what I didn’t have but happy tears for what I have now. These boys are amazing and I don’t deserve them. For every ounce of stress they cause me, they make up for it a hundred times over in these moments.

Some days I wonder if we’re screwing our kids up. No, I worry about that everyday. Are they eating enough fruits and vegetables or too many HFCS, processed items? Do we raise our voice at them too much? How much Wii is too much? Thankfully I have days like these above that help remind me that they are good boys. A little bit wild and a whole lot of crazy but their hearts are molding and forming and I can see a love for Jesus shining through them, little by little, in their words, actions and behaviors.

Though these moments aren’t daily or even weekly, it is proof that work is being done inside and for that, I’m praising God and claiming Proverbs 22:6 over my boys – ‘Direct your children onto the right path and when they are older, they will not leave it.’

Sorry, d3. You didn't make this issue. Maybe you should stop screaming your favorite two-letter word at Mommy all day long and I'll have something sweet to write about you....