Generous Dad

So I was watching the Ellen show the other day and she had on an inspiring person who she surprised with a check. 

Then a couple of days later, I was watching again and the same thing happened. Someone did something nice and she gave them a check. 

Each time when she surprised the person, her studio would erupt with cheers, shouts and tears. Everyone would celebrate the amazingly kind and generous gift Ellen gave.

It reminded of what happened to me a few weeks back. While having lunch with my dad, he said he wanted to contribute to my birthday trip. 

You see, I turn 40 in May and am celebrating with a trip to England, Ireland & Scotland with two of my sisters and my aunt. My aunt is taking the place of my mom who passed away four years ago. We've been planning and saving for 2 1/2 years. As we got closer to our trip, I started to look at the actual cost of things. To my dismay, everything was costing a little more than I thought it would. Here I had asked these people to travel with me and now the cost is more than I had thought. I began to wonder if we'd actually be able to go...

My dad told me to figure out what the cost would be and to let him know and to not tell my sisters, yet. I returned a few days later, cost information in hand. After looking at the cost, he said he thought it was going to be more. He said he wanted to cover the entire cost for me, and my two sisters. He told me there in the quiet of his kitchen, with no audience or witnesses. He gave me a check. There was no studio full of people cheering and celebrating what a generous gift he'd just given, what a kind person he is.

I've sat on this for the last few weeks and I can't sit on it any longer. My dad wasn't looking for a studio of people cheering for him. In fact, he'd probably shutter at the thought. 

So, this will have to substitute for a studio. 

Here are 

my cheers, 

my shouts 

and my tears.

Thank you Dad!

I feel showered in love!

Unrelenting loss

Time heals all wounds?

All wounds?

It's true that time may dull the pain of a wound, but heal it?

No.

A friend described loss as a hole that never goes away. It's gets smaller, but it is always there.

I think the hole analogy is closer to the truth.

Two days ago my son fell at the park and broke his arm. I, his mom, swooped him up and spent the next 24 hours making sure he was taken care of, mended. That's what most moms do, right?

That's what my mom did for me 33 years ago. 

It happened on the spiderweb at school. I had gathered all my courage and bravely climbed to the very top. I cautiously dangled my legs through the triangle hole and grabbed the bars with a steely death grip. I took a breath and let myself fall through the triangle hole. There I dangled from the top of the web. Terrified to let go, unable to climb back up.

Eventually my grip gave way. Truth be told I though the bratty boy from my class loosened my grip, by the years have made me unsure. Does it really matter? My grip came loose and I fell, fell to the ground and exactly on top of my left leg. I cried out in pain. A friend told me if I was hurt to crawl out of the web. I couldn't move. The next thing I remember is being in the nurses office. My mom was there with me. The nurse put an inflatable cast over my leg and my principal carried me to the car. My mom drove me to the hospital. She spend that next weeks making sure I was taken care of and mending.

In an attempt to distract my son from his broken arm during our ER wait, I told him my story. My story of breaking my leg. However, when I got to the part about my mom coming to get me, I could feel the rush of emotion race my face. In an effort to hold back my sobs, I stopped. I couldn't move. I made attempts to finish, to tell him my mom came and took care of me, but i couldn't get the words out. When I looked at my boys, I could see the emotion rush to their faces. Their eyes filled with tears.

I wanted my mom to come and take care of me.

I wanted her to tell me how to care for my son and his broken arm. How did she do it with me?

I wanted her to tell me it was going to be okay. 

I wanted to tell her how inadequate to handle this I felt and for her to tell me, only as she could, that I could do it. I had to do it.

It's been almost four years since she died.

My friend's analogy of loss being like a hole that gets smaller, 

It's true.

I've learned there are going to be times when memories push their way through the hole, making it large, gaping once more.

The unrelenting pain of the loss.

The hole will get smaller again. 

It will mend.

Like my leg did all those years ago.

Like my son's arm will.

Healing will come.

Grateful for a broken arm?

Yesterday, Ben fell off the monkey bars at the park and broke his right arm. 

Charlie, Ben and I rode our bikes to listen to the Irish music in the park. After listening for a while, we decided to ride over to another park/playground area. We got our bikes situated. The boys ran off to play and I sat down and began to check a text I had received. All of the sudden I heard Ben crying. When I ran over to him to help him, I noticed the unnatural curve in his arm and knew it was broken. 

Did I mention we were rode our bikes?! 

I called Todd, who was at a youth group meeting. 
His phone was silenced because he was teaching. 

I tried a neighbor, but was unable to reach them. 

I must not have been hiding my concern (panic) very well, because Charlie got upset, started crying and saying, “my baby brother broke his arm!”. 

I thought, “No, not you too Charlie, I need you to hold on!” Then I remembered a friend from church lived across the street from the park. 

After deciding that I could carry Ben and take the bikes, I ditched the bikes and we ran to my friend’s house. 
Thank GOD she was home! 
She answered the door and I lost it. 
Thankfully she was able to understand that Ben broke his arm, we rode our bikes and I needed a ride home. She said, “Take my van, I’ll get your bikes. We’ll take care of everything tomorrow.” Charlie, Ben and I hopped in her van and headed for the hospital. 

Poor Ben cried the whole way. I can’t imagine the pain he must have been in.

Charlie did a good job talking to Ben and trying to distract him. 

We (finally) arrived at the hospital a little after 8 pm. Ben was such a champ. 

There was a lot of waiting, but x-rays confirmed he broke his radial and ulna. What was unclear was if it was going to take surgery to fix it or not. We were referred to an orthopedic clinic, but after talking to our pediatrician, we ended up at Gillette. Gillette apparently couldn’t get the x-rays from hospital, so we couldn’t give Ben anything to eat until after he was seen. 
His appointment was at 2:45pm. 
We gave him juice this morning and then he slept for a good three hours. 
Thankfully (I’m sure it was because of all the prayers offered on Ben’s behalf) he didn’t need to have surgery. 
In fact, the ortho doctor manipulated Ben’s cast and was able to significantly correct the break. 
Again, Ben was such a troop through the whole thing. He was acting like it didn’t hurt. That is until the doctor kept squeezing and manipulation his break. He finally started to cry and asked when she was going to stop. 
Poor Guy. 
After she was done, Ben was immediately able to eat the snack I brought for him. 

Ben was given the choice of whatever he wanted to eat. He chose spaghetti and meatballs from Noodles. When I cut his noodles and meatballs, he looked at me. Then looked at his cast covered right hand. "How am I supposed to eat with this?" he asked. I told him he was going to have to use his left hand. That should be interesting these next several weeks.

We have to head back to Gillette on next week to ensure things are healing properly. 

I'm so thankful for all the calls, texts, email, and especially for the prayers. When I put Ben to bed last night, I was so grateful. 
Really? I felt grateful? 
I was surprised myself. 
I was grateful he didn’t fall on his head, 
break his leg or his back. 
Grateful that even though my phone calls for help weren’t answered, when I remembered my friend who lived close by, she was so willing to help-no question. 
Grateful that today the answer to my prayer for no surgery was answered (with the answer I wanted). 
Grateful that Ben seems to be having less pain than expected. 
Grateful that I wasn’t alone with the boys in the park. 
Grateful that even in the midst of everything, Ben started singing 
“My God is so big and so strong and so mighty. 
There’s nothing my God cannot do.” 

So true Ben, so true.

Homemade Sprite

We made Homemade Sprite!

How it happened is that I've been making fresh lemonade base. I would mix the base with Pellegrino to make it bubbly.

When I was at Costco last, I bought lemons and limes. We made lemonade base and limeade base.

Ben kept calling the limeade limonade. It made me think we could maybe make our own Sprite.

Here's how we did it. 

First we made the bases.

Fresh Lemon/Limeade Base (From Better Homes & Gardens)
2 1/2C water
1 1/4C sugar
1/2t lemon or lime zest
1 1/4C FRESH SQUEEZED lemon or lime juice

1. Heat and stir water and sugar over medium heat till sugar is dissolved. Remove from hear; cool for 20 minutes. Add peel and juice to sugar mixture. Pour into a jar (I've been reusing a cool bottle I got at World Market with Pink Lemonade in it), cover and refrigerate for up to 3 days (we've had it up to 5 with no problem).
2. For each glass, combine equal parts base and water in ice-filled glasses, stir.
Makes 8 (8oz) servings or about 4 cups of base.


Second we mixed.

Homemade Sprite
1/4 C lemonade base
1/4 C limeade base
1/2 C Pellegrino

It tastes fresher than Sprite, but I found it just as refreshing. 

Ben really liked it too!

Robes

In my early years as a follower of Christ, I felt very overwhelmed.

by the world
by life
by all there was to learn in my new faith relationship

"My soul clings to you, your right hand upholds me." Ps 63:8

All I could do was cling to the Lord. I would say this verse over and over as

the world

my life

came charging at me,

flinging arrows.

Then the Lord gave me a vision.

He was seated on his huge throne. He heavy velvet, royal robes were cascading down his throne and onto the floor around him.

I was at the foot of his throne, burying my face in the softness and security of his robes.

clinging

As the arrows began their decent to strike, the mighty hand of God swept them away.

As the worries of life came charging at me, the mighty hand of God swept them away.

I was safe there, my soul clinging.

Over the last 20 years of my relationship with God, I have clung to that verse, that vision.

Today I read Jesus Calling.

Sarah Young referenced Is 61:10

"I am overwhelmed with joy in the LORD my God!
for he has dressed me with the clothing of salvation and
 draped me in a robe of righteousness."

He has given me a robe of His righteousness.

I am no longer that young woman hiding in the robe of her savior.

I am still at the foot of His throne, but standing.

Standing in the radiance of His robe of righteousness.

Basking in the presence and glory of the Lord.

Futile

I am the mother of two boys, two young boys. Today, as I do every week, I cleaned their bathroom. It would seem that even after I cleaned it, it didn't smell clean, or as clean as I wanted. I even bought a new toilet seat. It I can remove it easily and really clean. 

So today as I was disassembling the toilet and scouring every inch of it, I began to grumble to myself. Unfortunately, grumbling has become part of my weekly routine as well. Last week I tried to grumble to myself in Spanish, "No me gusta limpiar el baño". Maybe that would make me feel better?

Nope. 

It didn't.

So today I did as I do each week, clean their bathroom and complain to myself the whole time. Then I remembered Philippians 2:14 "do everything without complaining". I tried. I really did!

After I finished I thought that was it on that subject. However, tonight is bath night. My youngest stripped down and came running into the bathroom. He made it to the toilet, but not into the toilet. I was fuming. I complained, "That's it! I can't take it! Can ANYTHING feel more futile than cleaning a little boy's bathroom?"

I tried to think of something. Even though washing dishes can feel futile or dusting, is there anything that feels like as soon as you do it, you have to do it again?

Forgiveness. 

More specifically, the way God must feel when he forgives me. 

I only have to clean the bathroom once a week (or that's as often as I choose to do it), but God forgives me 

daily...

hourly...

every moment...

I'm so thankful that God never tires of forgiving me. I'm just sorry he has to do it more often.

Maybe I'll take a different approach to cleaning the bathroom.

Maybe I'll be thankful I don't have to share a bathroom with our boys.

Maybe I'll be thankful I have two boys to dirty the bathroom.

Maybe I'll be mindful of how God must feel each time he has to wash me clean.

"Come now, let's settle this," says the LORD. "Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow. Though they are red like crimson, I will make them as white as wool. Isaiah 1:18

Prince of Peace

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. And the government will rest on his shoulders. These will be his royal titles: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6

Sometimes in our non-monarchy society, the importance of royal titles isn’t fully appreciated. I didn’t appreciate them. Then I discovered it; British Period Drama. My recent favorite centers around the importance of title. Not only that the title was passed from male to male, but the responsibility, the respect and the power that comes along with the title. Each Christmas I sing along with Handel’s Messiah and belt out “Wonderful. Counselor. Almighty God. The Everlasting Father. The Prince of Peace.” It wasn’t until recently that the title Prince of Peace stood out to me. What does it mean that Jesus is the Prince of Peace? He is the Prince of Peace. He is sovereign over it. It is his to bestow on those he chooses. Imagine coming before the Prince in all his royal robes. His father sits behind him on the throne. Frantic and frenzied, weighed down by the worries of this life, you make your way toward the Prince. As you come closer, he extends his hand to you. You grasp his outstretched hand and fall at his feet. As he bends, he gently takes you into his embrace and whispers into your ear, “My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Prince of Peace, draw me near to you. Forgive me for not trusting you fully. Help me to loosen my grasp on my worries and burdens of this life. Please bestow on me your everlasting peace.