The reverence of remembering and reflecting...

    
 Last weekend, husband and I had the honor of fellowship with husbands and wives whose marriages reflected glory.  We are a team of marriage mentors...guiding, encouraging, and inspiring those who come behind us.

We are NOT perfect in any sense but we were all perfectly planned to join together that which no one should put asunder.

Husband and I are humbled, being the least experienced, least learned, so maybe the most challenged within this circle.

So, we easily stand to gain, grow, and glean from these marvel of mentors in marriage.

As I listened and learned as each spoke in turn, I realized the art, their art...that what they have practiced all these years together in their union.

They each remembered and reflected on the reminiscent.  It was lovely...

Dave remarked he married "up" when he married Mary.

Terra reflected on Jeff''s first invitation...it happened to be on Valentines Day.  So timely...yet unplanned.

Paul and Peggy reminisced of the basketball game after vows exchanged...then chuckled together...delighted.

Rob and Betty roared in laughter as they remembered the wedding gift...burial plots.

Rich beamed in reverence as he admitted he married the Beauty...in every sense of the word.

I remembered the boy I fell weak in the knees and madly in heart...charming, chivalrous courtship.

Ahhhh...I see...

                   ...the value of reminiscing, reflecting, and remembering
                   ...wraps the years in reverence.
                      

Love letters for Valentines

When I wrote my first love letter, I was 18 years old.  I didn’t know that my first love letter would be one of many written every day for a whole year and beyond.  And that the one whom I would write several thousands of miles away would be the one whom I would marry.  I just wrote and wrote and poured out my heart on pages with words...until my heart was completely poured and completely his. 

When God created the Heavens and Earth, He spoke…with one word of his breath it came to be.  With word upon word, you can “agitat molem” move mountains…with the faith of a mustard seed.  With words you can build and encourage…

…and sadly, you can tear down.

So with every word I breathe, I have a choice to build or tear down.  What will you choose?  Will I take this Valentines Day and every day for that matter to speak words that build and encourage…I'm reminded that encourage means to bring courage.

Praying my words as wife builds and speaks courage to my husband as love letters.

"The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down." Proverbs 14:1

What I commit to do the year of the Rabbit...

          
           For the very few...and I'm sure very few... of those I know that follow my ramblings, you'll know that I seem to be very inconsistent in "blogging" and that I follow really no theme or purpose...therefore, they are all truly random ramblings but random ramblings that I care enough to record and remember.

           I started to blog because I always seemed to have a sweet story to share or funny tale of adventure usually about my four rambunctious, rowdy rugrats.  I hate name calling...I really do...but I thought that I throw in "rugrats" because in this case:
           it's one, used as a term of endearment and
           two, it fits this "alliteration".

          An alliteration is a phrase with words that start with the same sound...not necessarily the same letter, but same sound.  Just like the phrase "rambunctious, rowdy, rugrat".   And, oh I love my rugrats.

          Anyway, as I mentioned, I always had something to say or some chuckle to share with my husband in the middle of our days. One very busy afternoon, he asked me kindly and lovingly to write about it and assured me that he would take the time to read it when he got home.  I know that he's very busy at work.  He works at Intel as a project manager and can be in three different countries in one day...not necessarily physically but virtually.  He is always so polite and considerate with me but sadly, may never really count on the fact that I might take his suggestion.

But in this case, I did.

He was surprised.

And that's how I started blogging...upon my husband's suggestion.  See, husband dear, I do listen to you.

          So, being in the first weeks of the year, I've committed to blog at least once a week.  C'mon, this is a huge step for me...You see, I'm a bit cyber-shy and two, I've never been much of a writer, let alone, a blogger.  But with noble efforts to record and remember the random ramblings of my rambunctious and rowdy rugrats, I endeavor to visit here more often.  Here's to the year of the Rabbit in 2011!

When moms embarrass their teens…

First day of school after a long holiday break…first morning, first rising, and first moments into the break of another stretch of school.  How would one expect to greet such a moment?  With ecstaticism, joy, and elation?  Or mope, drudgery, and gripe?  Or instead how about a heart of hope of good things to come?

Sadly, I lacked the heart of hope as I awoke to greet my son with a barrage of inquiries and annoyances…of what he forgot to do or neglected to do. 

Yet, I forgot about the great weekend we enjoyed and that Friday, New Years Eve night.  You see, we punctuated our year with time at Avamere Retirement Home.  The boys had the best performance…ever, over the coarse of the 6 years we’ve served.  Despite Margaret taking her teeth in and out of her mouth and twirling it in the palm of her hand next to him, Jeremy remained laser-focused on the score of the music and continued “without skipping a beat.”  The audience was captivated, engaged, and delighted by these young boys who filled the space with Gershwin, Beethoven, Chopin, Pachabel, Bach, and others.  I was impressed. 

But the Mom’s morning greeting reflected the mood of the Monday with drudgery and pessimism. 

“Did you get your chore done last night?”  “And what about vacuuming the foyer?” “Jeremy, I told you to pick up your socks…didn’t I?”

Why didn’t I think about saying this instead?...

“Good Morning Jeremy.  We sure did have a great Christmas break.  I hope you have a great start to your day.  When you get back from school, let’s talk about some of the chores we can do…and maybe together.  By the way, I’ll miss you today because I sure did enjoy you at home these last weeks.”

There!  That would have been a better start.  But it didn’t happen that way.  So conviction set in and a mom had to do what a mom had to do.

I packed up the youngers and headed back to the middle school.  Checked in at the front desk and headed for the lunchroom.  Yet even within the sea of teens, I spotted him right away, smack in the center of the lunchroom.  I shuffled over, hesitating for fear of embarrassing this young teen.  You know how teens are and especially with their parents.  Dare they be seen with us? 

But the school secretary encouraged me that mothers were suppose to embarrass their teens and I decided that temporary embarrassment would be trumped by a humble apology.

“What are you doing here?” with a surprise inflection and startled look in his wide eyes.  Not accusatory, just surprised.

I bent close to his ear and held his shoulders firmly yet lovingly and whispered so no one would hear, “I’m sorry about this morning.  Will you forgive me?”

“Forgive you…uh, for what?  But yeah, I guess.” Still startled and wondering.

I handed him a little baggy…inside, two pieces of bite-sized Milky Ways and one fun-sized Million Dollar Bar, left over from Halloween…convinced that sometimes even sugar and sweet can minister to a growing teen.

But also included in the baggy, a little note from mom.

Still holding his shoulders firmly yet lovingly, I gave him a squeeze, kissed his temple, turned and walked away with three littles following close behind.

When he arrived home, I apologized again.  Yet again…

“I’m sorry that I embarrassed you by coming to your school and dropping off treats.  I guess I could’ve waited for you to come home.  Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Yeah, ok.  I forgive you.”  And that was it.

Five minutes later.  “Mom, you actually didn’t embarrass me.  I, uh…(pause, pause) kind of liked it.” 

“You did?” I squeeked, surprised beyond the moon.  “But what about Ryan.  When I said hello to Ryan, (his friend sitting next to him) he seemed embarrassed that I said hello.”

“Yeah, he was, but I wasn’t.  I actually wanted to…err…brag.”  “Yeah, brag.  I wanted to say, hey, look everybody, my mom’s here! Because I was happy to see you!“

He was happy to see me. 

My teenager was happy to see me.

By the way, here’s the note I left in the baggy:

To my son, the one whom I loved the longest, the one whose

birth I anticipated with the greatest of heart and who first

 gave me the title of mother,

‘I have loved you with an everlasting love’ Jeremiah 31:3

I love you dearly, my son.  Love, Mom

So glad I decided to embarrass my son that day. 

For the One who gives breath...

Today, first Saturday after Thanksgiving, as tradition holds, we headed to the tree farm.  It isn't always the same one...the tree farm, but it's always a farm and never a lot, a tree lot that is.

The drive was winding and swerving through the hills of North Plains, several miles from where we lived.  Forests and fields filled these soft farmlands with familiar comfort and majestic awe.  I always love this drive and love the fact that its only minutes from our home, close enough to regard it as home.

The air was stiff with chill and we were still recovering from below freezing temps from the days prior.  We finally landed to our destination and all filed out with hand saw and bundles of coats, jackets, and hats.

But this particular day, I wondered if I had bundled them tightly enough.  The poles seemed to squeeze more tightly upon us, and I realized why I never got into snow skiing.  By the way, I love to water ski and basically "popped" up upon my first try...at least that's what I remember.  But I wondered if I ever would take up snow skiing...ahh, I'm reminded now.

And on this particular day, Gabriel skipped along the path and then stopped short in his step.  He searched around and realized the air around him had seemed a bit lower and a bit heavier than he remembered.  And he noticed something he had never noticed before.

Then I giggled to myself as I marveled over his marvel.  In his pause, Gabriel gasped and blew out...gasped and blew out...then wide eyes watched what floated gently from between his lips.  Soft puffs of white streamed sweetly and dissipated magically away.

Ahh...Gabriel had discovered his breath.  And, I, in that moment, gave thanks for the One who gave him his very breath.

.

Runaway

Well, I almost did, but I didn't, but I threatened to...


Ok, I threatened to run away tonight.  Yes, run away.  No, I'm not a feisty, rebellious teen bucking rules, order, and everything "parent".  I'm a 41 year old  SAHM.(Stay at home mommy)  No, I'm not hormonal, at least not right now.  And, no, I'm not in any danger, threat, or duress.  I've just had it to here. (pointing my arms above my head)...


Ok, I realize my threat was idle, but it was there.  I just needed a break...and a girl needs a little appreciation.


See, I can talk about it right now because my wise and peace-making husband can diffuse any of my myriad of emotions.


So, here's what happened...


I've got it all planned out.  By the way, I'm a planner, an organizer, and my pantries and linen closet are the organization gestapo.   That gives you a flavor of the OCD tendencies I've prayed, agonized, and wrestled with.  And, now I've actually come to terms with this shortcoming and have embraced it with zeal...


So, in character, I've decided to plan Advent events for the family for the next month.  The first one began today.  With tradition, we loaded the Suburban (that doesn't seem big enough for my brood of boys) with matching button down shirts, cameras (three of them), tripods, snacks, books, balls, and boys.  Off to the Pittock Mansion for our annual Christmas picture session in picturesque Pittock nestled in the Northwest valley with the winding Willamette below.   Ahh, doesn't that sound so Norman Rockwell?


Little did I know...with all that we brought, we also tucked in some grumble, complaint, and nag.


"Mommy, are we done yet?"


"How long will this take?"


"I don't look good in this shirt!"  "I'm hungry!!"(By the way, they're always hungry; they're boys.)


"My feet hurt!"  "My nose itches."  "But we just took 30 pictures."  "Do I have to?"


So, here we are taking happy? pictures....you get the picture.  If you have a household of children, you've probably experienced a scene like ours.  If not, tell me how you do it:)


So, at the end of our jaunt, I calmly and stoically announced to my dear, sympathetic husband that I was running away.


"Running away?" he asked.  "From what?"


"Oh, my love, I think you know."


We bantered back and forth about the pros and cons of me running away.  He finally convinced me that I could, if I wanted to...


...and so I did.  I ran away for the night...into the other room, my office.


I had a lovely evening.   And reflected on the sweet moments we had at Pittock tonight.


I love my boys, my husband...and wouldn't dream of being anywhere else right now but home.





No other place, but home

Soli Deo Gloria...

Thanksgiving #40 Thanksgiving Day


               Soli Deo Gloria...For the glory of God, His Glory Alone.  I am humbled, awed, and grateful.

"Enter the Lord's gates with Thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and Praise His name. For the Lord is good and His love endures forever; His faithfulness continues through all generations."  Psalm 100:4-5

For life that beats within...

Thanksgiving #39 Thanksgiving Day

           One of the greatest honors man or more specific...woman bears is the honor of participating in God's mightiest and marvelous miracle...that of bearing new life.  I can't help but marvel tonight when I saw Grace, my beautiful sister-in-law, bear that little life within her tiny frame.  A separate heart and mind that beats and thinks apart from her, the very one who carries her.  That's right, that little one is a precious baby girl.  She'll arrive and make her debut in January.  How amazing is God' amazement, how marvelous His marvel.  I'm grateful for the life that beats within Grace.

For the hope of eternity...

Thanksgiving #38 Thanksgiving Day

                Have I stood in the presence of Light to only see the depravity of my dark?  Have I seen truth in its fullness to sense its stark contrast from lie?  Have you felt the depth of another's care against the depth of being alone?  It's these deep contrasts that allow us to sense what life is felt on this side of heaven.  For as long as we walk on this side of heaven we will always have the contrast of being on this side of heaven...until one day we will fully know the fullness of residing within.  I am grateful for the hope of eternity that rests only within the ONE that gives it.

For best buddies in baby and brother...

Thanksgiving #37 Thanksgiving Day

             Eats and more eats, feating and more feasting...and yes, fellowship and drawing close to those near and dear to you.  I'm in the kitchen deep in preparation for our Thanksgiving feast... confidant and secure in knowing and seeing my youngest confidant and secure in the care of our Sweet Sam.  He always was and is nurturing, patient, kind, and protective over his lil' brother G.  He follows his baby brother around like a pama bear over his cub.  He plays and entertains him with a daddy's love.  If I've never uttered a word of thanks for this sweetness between two brothers, I've felt it and known it from the very beginning of their beginning.  Oh, dear Jesus, I am grateful You gave best friends in the same family.

For the example of the 12 year old Jesus....

Thanksgiving #36

                 Raising a teen is not the easiest.  Yet with its challenge and hurdles, it has to be one of the most rewarding and blessed times of parenting.  You see the culmination of heart and effort and nurture in the makings of this young boy through his speech and deeds.  Oh, yes, he challenges and bucks and may even gripe a bit here and there, but he is beginning to test his wings.  He wasn't meant for flight on his parents' wings but his own.  Getting from here to there is filled with stretching, growth pains, and sometimes heart ache.

I'm so grateful for the example that Jesus left when he started marking his destiny, his own flight when He was only 12 years old.  At that time, He went to Jerusalem to observe the Passover Feast with His parents, as He did each year prior.  When it was time to leave, He stayed behind.  When Joseph, his earthly father, and Mary, his mother, came back to search for him.  He reminded them that shouldn't He be found in His Father's house.

But isn't Joseph His father?  Of coarse, Jesus in that moment, was marking his departure from his parents, yet still with grace, love, and honor for His parents.  Jesus claimed to be in His Father's house, yet knowing his earthly father to be Joseph.  Joseph and Mary might have been hurt at Jesus' response, but they knew He was beginning His flight for his own ministry on earth.

Just as my son has...

As He stakes out to claim what is his...his own walk, his own story...his own flight...as a mommy I'll commit to continue to stand beside and beneath him.  But now, he must go before me...

He's taking flight.  I'll love him all the while.  I'm grateful for the example our Lord left us to encourage hope during this time of parenting.

For warming shelters in stretches of cold...

Thanksgiving #35

                  21...that's the number my car thermometer read last night.  My children watch excitedly as the the number fell from 41 (being inside the garage) down 20 more.  Brrr.... understatement.  I think that many of us can say that we are very grateful for the warmth of shelter and roof over from the elements outside...a kind of a blessing that many of us may take for granted, or at least I have.  No, today, I am grateful for the many ministries that touch the hurting and downtrodden.  Imago Dei Community, Portland Rescue Mission, Union Gospel Mission, and...Rolling Hills Community Church.  These faith communities use their resources and blessings to provide for the Portland poor...to provide warmth and shelter...food and drink...hope and light...to a watching and desperate world who so needs the light and warmth of Christ.
I am grateful for these communities...for warming shelters in stretches of cold.

For the marvel in the first few fall of flakes...

Thanksgiving #34

                The night quieted down and the sky drew closer and blacker.  It had filled with clouds heavier and fuller than typical.  Then when things were already quiet, it drew even more...and it began.  The first few measures of soft, falling flakes crescendoed into an orchestra of a sky-filled white.  It sounded magnificently quiet and breath-taking.  I've seen it before and every year, but each time I do, it holds my breath captive.

The boys rushed out to crunch the first layer and roll their bodies in it's soft, cool blanket.  You would have thought that they've never seen anything like it.

Just the day before, I was feeling discouraged that I don't believe I've taught my children the blessing of how to marvel.  Tonight, I didn't have to...they knew exactly how to upon the first sight of marvel.

Grateful for the first sight of marvel...He is marvelous and wonderful.  The first few fall of flakes...

For Operation Christmas Blessing...

Thanksgiving #33

              Operation Christmas Child...Christmas boxes...have you heard of such a thing?  It's international...it's global...it's the body of Christ reaching all over the world.  8 million children received shoe boxes last year.  130 different impoverished countries all over the world have been touched by Operation Christmas Child.

For what?  To demonstrate God's love in a tangible way to needy children around the world, and together with the local church worldwide, to share the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Yesterday after church, my family and I picked up and dropped off 69 Christmas boxes to their drop off site.  We dropped off 43 boxes on Friday night...that makes over a hundred boxes.

One of those boxes if not more may end up in my family's country - the Philippines.  What a blessing to have been a part of this mission.

Soli Deo Gloria!

To Him be all the glory!

                            

For our church body...

Thanksgiving #32

                 Life is chaotic, bordering mayhem, and challenged-filled...but it is also rich of blessing, treasure, and all that we cherish...our family.  As we travel our day to day, week to week, I can safely say that life is not always consistent and routine.  In fact, it is far from it.  I often long for the anchor of that what is routine and regular but find that some periods of time are intended to be endured in upheaval and shake-up.  Oh, but you can still be content in any circumstance or even choose to joy in all situations.  I do try.

But one thing that I can count on and remains constant and regular in our week to week...

Our church family!

The constant of familiar faces, gracious greetings, warm embraces...right there in the body of Rolling Hills Community Church.  It's all because God is there, and He is the constant that anchors our lives.

He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  He is the great I AM!

God through His church body anchors our week and our direction even through upheaval...God's presence and light through each one of them within the body...each of those we call family at Rolling Hills Community Church.

I'm grateful for God through our church family of Rolling Hills Community Church.

            

For my Pastor's wife...

Thanksgiving #31

              My Pastor's wife asked me...and three of my mentors, Judy, Cheryl, and Rita, to join her in a study...Radical by David Platt.  I've heard his sermons and even joined an online discussion group over his sermons.  I was challenged beyond measure and often irritated and uncomfortable.  I hated his radical thoughts and his unconventional practices and agreed with every single one of them at the same time.  He teaches and practices a walk not too far from those of the Franciscan Order of St. Francis of Assisi.  Francis was born of wealthy parents and forsaked all that he was given for a life in poverty with Christ.  I'm nervous and agitated about this study but excited and elated at the same time.  I'm grateful that Kathy invited me and I'm grateful for my Pastor's wife.



By the way, isn't my Pastor's wife so beautiful?  She is inside and out.

For grace that abounds...

Thanksgiving #30

                I sometimes can't believe how often and how big I blunder...how much I can offend and how many transgressions whether purposed or inadvertent...and sadly, how many people I may hurt along the way...including those I love the most.  Oh dear, my flesh seems to war against me and within me.  This life in the flesh astounds, confuses, and sometimes paralyzes me.

But if life is walked in the Spirit instead of the flesh God is glorified and blessing abounds.  He has taught me this week through my Bible study that the fall and captivity of His people allowed Him to demonstrate His redemption and grace. (See Isaiah 13-14)  Even ast my flesh astounds, His grace and redemption abounds.  And I am grateful for His graceful, redemptive Hand on my life.

For HIS TRUTH!!

Thanksgiving #29

                 Last night we went out to celebrate Daniel's birthday over dinner.  Dad, mom, Uncle Jason (the boys' uncle, my brother-not my uncle), husband, and our boys all met at the Italian house-Olive Garden.  We had about a half hour wait.  So I always bring something to read to tie the time over.  My mom brought her Bible study material and took it out to review with me.  She had attended the class earlier that afternoon "How to share the Gospel" at Bible Study Fellowship, otherwise known as BSF.  She excitedly recapped the key points and enthusiastically reviewed the four truths of sharing the Gospel.  I asked her if she had ever heard these truths before, and she looked at me earnestly and shook her head no.  She had attended church since she was a little girl.  In fact, my grandfather started and pastored the church in their bario in Nueva Vizcaya.  And when we moved here to Portland in 1976, we attended the United Methodist Church of Beaverton.

And sadly, they never taught the truth...the Gospel...the Good News.

Four walls with a roof and a cross in its center do not make a church.  His Holy Spirit and His teaching and His replication in others...that makes His church.

For the first time, November 19th, my mother heard the Gospel.  She heard the truth of our Lord Jesus Christ and she believed for the first time.  I am grateful for God's truth that is mighty to save!!

By the way, my mom is now witnessing to a young Native American girl, Audrey, in the workplace...working to share the Gospel.

For my mom and dad...

Thanksgiving #28

                 Every Tuesday I take the "middles" Samuel and D to a homeschool group called Classical Conversations, where they grow and learn in disciplines such as geography, science, math, history, english, and art.  And every Tuesday, my mom and dad come over to take care of baby G.  Every Tuesday baby G takes a much earlier nap than I would prefer, which forces him to take two naps instead of one, which by the end of the day he ends up going to bed later than I would prefer.  Every Tuesday baby G eats foods I would not prefer and makes a mess that I would rather he not make.  But every Tuesday baby G is cared and nurtured and held lovingly by my mom and dad for the entire time we are gone...I wouldn't trade my every Tuesday for the world.  I'm grateful for my mom and dad.

For Sweet Darlin' D...

Thanksgiving #27

                  Seven turns around the sun today (and this last one flew like a breath) when they laid my darlin' baby D in my arms.  I really think that he came out smiling, and he's been beaming ever since.  He chose Millers, the restaurant with the windmill and covered wagon, as our breakfast house. It's always got to be unique and memorable with Daniel.  The boys ate cinnamon rolls and bacon...argh...but the sweet savory taste ministered to them like you wouldn't believe.  Then we headed to the theater for some super hero fun with Megamind in Metrocity, toy shopping, and "eats" Italian style at Olive Garden.  Punctuated our evening with "Happy Birthday" over cones of ice cream.  He beamed all day as he does most days. I'm grateful for my sweet darlin' D!  Happy birthday Darlin!

Notice the cool covered wagon in the background next to the inoperable but interesting-looking windmill....and the birthday boy, Daniel, with his best buddies - brothers.