Go Army

They were up, out of bed early, dressed in their version of a Green Beret... They wanted to be up & out, engaged in battle, even before breakfast. It was that important.

This one?



My heart sinks at times.

This guy asked for that Army equipment two Christmases ago. On his head is an actual WWII helmet (it is so heavy!).

He got his gear on for the picture and then kept it on for a long time that morning. Finally came up to Dad and me: "Mom, I know this might make you cry, but I need you to know that... someday... someday I'm gonna go and fight. For real. And you're gonna have to let me go."

This guy found out that the armed forces no longer use bazookas; the rest of the day was spent talking of little else because he was so frustrated with that.

When Osama bin Laden finally went down? This guy was very upset. He wanted to be the one to take him down. He'd lost his chance.

We have several families in our church who are in the Guard or other armed services. One family in particular has a special spot in Joe-Joe's heart. The dad, eldest son, and two grown daughters all serve. The eldest son, Blake (who is about 19 years old), loves Joe-Joe and pays him special attention when he's around. Joe-Joe hangs on every breath Blake takes, begging for information and stories.

Joe-Joe lives and breathes Army.

I am convincing myself that this is a phase, that it's because he's 9 and impressionable and still imagination-driven. That he is fearless in the way 9-year-old boys ought to be, and that he longs for the greatest of adventures.

Because I don't want my baby fighting in a war.

And that is stupid. And selfish. Wrong on several levels.

I have no idea what God will do with Joe-Joe. But I know this: He has made him brave (too brave for me). He has made him tough. And He has made him long for something that is noble and good.

And Joe is His to do with as He pleases. And if that means that ~ in this crazy, sinful, chaotic, churning spot on the timeline of the earth, where war is everywhere and always, and real men are needed who can fight with bravery and self-lessness ~ if it means that God is calling Joe to be ready to go, I need to send him off to do what he's been born to do, with my blessing and my thankfulness and with my courage.

Honestly? What better thing could my son be called to do?

In the meantime, I help him find his helmet and boots. I set up the mess hall with breakfast when it's time. I ask him about the battle and lament with him over the lack of bazookas. And I marvel that I get to watch God's plan unfold with such a unique young boy.

And I sorta keep my fingers crossed that he'll go into dentistry...

Gungor

I have no idea how I missed this!

Not that I'm on top of anything. Ever.

But ohmyword.

If you don't know, either, then just listen ~






And I can't wait...


This incredible music



can be found here...

Ghosts Upon the Earth



and should hit the shelves here next week!

Great lyrics, gorgeous music, incredible variety; and I can't seem to get everybody around here quiet enough so I can listen.

School Days

Joe-Joe (aka "DJ," which doesn't really fit him as much as it used to; we don't even call him that anymore. "Joe-Joe"? Yes, often...) anyway, Joe-Joe started something new this school year.

He's attending an academy one day a week with other homeschoolers. Following in the footsteps of Mem & Big-E.

It's been a small adjustment for us both. A good thing ~ but since this is me I'm writing about, there's been a bit of grief squished up in there as well. Because one day a week equals another step out into the world, another step into "too big to sit in my mom's lap," another step into being grown.

It's a good thing, but good things are sometimes painful as they unfold.

I sometimes want to sell my youngest two to the first gypsy caravan, but the feeling is brief, fleeting... false. Because honestly I love them too much, so much that I sometimes think I can't breathe.

I digress...

So he started Academy.

The first day was a bit nerve-wracking, new for him, new for me in that it was him I was dropping off. I went in with him for his first day, showed him around, made sure he knew where things were, sat with him through opening assembly.

The hard part? Watching him walk out with his class as they went back for first period. He was nervous, unsure; and I was gripping the seat bottom to not get up & walk with my arm around him. He would've hated that. So I gripped and prayed.

Today? He was ready to go! He now is an old-pro, this second time around. I pulled up at the front door ("No need to come in, Mom" was the unspoken rule). As he climbed out of the front seat with a heavy backpack, I "casually" told him to have a good day, that I loved him and would miss him.

The yummy? He climbed back in that van and gave his mom a full contact hug (oh yes he did!). Still young enough to not think twice about showing affection to mom. My heart overflow-eth!

Picked him up this afternoon, got the stories from the day. The best one was saved for last:

"I got to dissect a bee today!"

"A bee? Wow!" A bee? Already? I thought they'd do that in 7th grade or something. 4th-graders dissecting little tiny bees?

"They'd been soaked in vinegar!"

Interesting... I guess to kill off the germs from the dead body? Dk...

"Then I got to eat it!"

"What? Did your teacher know you'd eaten it?"

"Oh yeah! She said it'd probably be pretty gross, but it was okay to go ahead, so I did... It tasted nasty and I spit it out in the bathroom."

Well duh... of course it was gross. A BEE? Really? Who is his science teacher again? Is that okay? Could that have made him sick? Should I make a big deal out of this? Cuz I did eat that chocolate-covered ant in 6th grade. Maybe today they're eating bees outta vinegar...

Then Joe-Joe went on to describe it a bit more to Jake, who was with us. The light bulb went off: A BEAN!! He said a BEAN!! Good grief.

Between his stuffy nose and my 47-year-old ears and the van windows rolled down, no wonder...

It's a Wonderful Life

I'm not exactly sure when this became clear to me. Recently...

I'd clicked on yet another blog I frequent and began to read the truest, sincerest, deepest thoughts of the Mom~Author.

She told (again) of how her day had gone with her kids. How they'd spent the day traversing the forest of aspens and maples, stopping frequently to gather Nature's surprises for their nature table back home (a lovely antique oak (Grandma's!) that fits perfectly in their ample foyer). The kids all held hands as they talked about Jesus and sang the songs from Sunday's service.

Okay, I made a lot of that up. I'm trying to make a point.

Somehow, honestly, I've been drawn to these blogs where people's lives just go perfectly. Or at least seem to.

The Mom~Authors have found time to contemplate how to motivate their kids to pray, how to keep freshly-baked bread around, how to teach 9 kids at once, how to keep their school rooms organized, how to decorate their homes in the latest trends, how to effectively worship Christ at all hours and at any given hour of the day, how to journal every important event that occurs in each child's life, how to...

Well, the list seems eternal. And the pictures! The kids in the pictures are playing chess, reading Lamplighter books, or helping Mom (cheerfully!) make pie crust for the rhubarb they just got out of their garden. There's a map of the world pinned on their dining room wall, with Post-it flags pointing to each place where missionaries live, and this family faithfully prays organized, effective, consistent prayers for them. The four-year-old knows how to iron, and the sons spend lots of quality time with Dad either fishing or working together to create beautiful landscaping. The Mom~Author has only wise words for her family, which she has beautifully cross-stitched to hang around the house, and she is always kind and helpful to her husband. Always.

And I realized that I click off these blogs in a state of mental and spiritual exhaustion!

I mean, I'm exhausted anyway. I'm 47, I have three kids I'm trying to homeschool, one kid enrolled in school outside of home, a mom in poor health with fairly significant needs, and husband with a very demanding job, and... I'm 47. Wait, already said that.

But then I find myself reading these blogs and feeling... just whooped. Useless. Losing the battle I haven't even begun. These women have the smoothest lives as they go about loving their husbands well, honoring their parents, teaching their kids, canning their vegetables, making their quilts, and journaling their incredibly deep, God-honoring thoughts.

Gack! Are you connecting with me here?

If so, then this post is for you. Sit back with your lukewarm cup of coffee (because in real life, that's just how it is) and scroll through what ought to help you feel pretty dog-gone good about your life!

Welcome to the Real World:

Obviously these people/places aren't me or mine, but they are fairly accurate representations of my life. Are you feeling better, though?

I type this on my bed, surrounded by piles of clean laundry that might or might not get put away by Thursday. I'm pretty sure I'll be up several times tonight doling out Tylenol or Advil to a sick little guy whose fever refuses to stay below 101. I've got ungraded papers on my desk in the school room, Lego and Bionicle pieces all over and in my couch, and rings in all three toilets. My van has dirty Kleenexes and napkins in the floor along with Sonic trash from a few days back. I'm thinking on how to creatively incorporate mac & cheese into tomorrow's dinner, trying to remember the last time I dusted, mopped or vacuumed.

And that's just the stuff I'm not embarrassed to post.

So I wanted to raise my hand ~ in this world of so many bloggers with beautiful, intimidating lives ~ and say this: "I have no earthly idea how to do this well. I don't know how to consistently get enough sleep. I constantly fight to stay awake while I read God's Word, to answer my husband with the respect he deserves, to not yell at my children, and to love my neighbors as I should. I worry about the future and lament over the past. I love my sin too much and my Savior too little. I give up too easily and push too hard for what doesn't matter. I'd rather drink Diet Coke than water, and I reach for the oatmeal cream pie without ever considering the humus." [No, I don't choose the DCoke or oatmeal pie, I just want it!]

In other words, I'm a bit of a mess.

But this I know:

For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

"Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her." Luke 10:41-42

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. James 1:5

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6

And so in this I rest, and trust, and hope for.

No.

I can NOT fix my blog page. I can't figure out what's wrong with it, so I can't fix it.

Very weird, and very frustrating.

I've looked at the html stuff, which is just Greek to me anyway, although in the past I've been able to do enough to fix other things. But this is beyond me. So... whatever.

Double aarrggghhh.