where i've been

*peeks around corner

Hello! So nice to see you again!!

Yes, I've been away, for a very long time. The good news is that I am not deceased. The bad news is that ... well, there is no bad news! I've been away from home for the last (almost) three weeks, taking care of my mom-in-law while my dad-in-law was out of town on business. And while it's been a little bit crazy, I am home safe and sound, and catching up on rest, laundry, cleaning, and getting to know Jessie again. :-) We plan to reacquaint ourselves this evening, while we watch American Idol and just ... veg.

My refrigerator is chalk full of science projects, but I'm not dealing with that until tomorrow. And yes, I said that yesterday.

Other than that, there isn't a whole lot going on, other than normal everyday life. Baseball season has started for both the Rockies and Andrew. I'm soooo excited!! I can't wait until it gets warm enough to go to a game and get toasty fried in the warm sun! And yes, I know all about skin cancer. I just happen to not care. I'd rather remedy my low vitamin D than worry about something that may never happen. But I am kidding about getting toasty fried. I know that's not a good thing.

I'm also in the midst of starting a blog for the ladies at our church. Unfortunately, it won't be something that non-members will have access to, so I won't be able to point you to it. But I at least had to share, because I'm so excited!!! It's an opportunity to write more, encourage more, and get to know others at my church more. Nothing better than that! I can't wait to see what kind of input and feedback the ladies will give.

Bedee, bedee, that's about it, folks! Oh! Forgot to tell you that Andrew broke him wrist while we were gone. He went on a three day youth retreat, and got into a tubing pile up. Ha! He said all of them were going down the hill, and all of a sudden, the tube flipped and all three of his buddies had landed on his arm while it was twisted behind his back. He said he went face first, with his cheek bouncing up and down on the ground all the way down. And then he said, "And Mom! Michael landed right ON my face. I mean, like, ON IT." Michael weighs about 220, so ... ahem ... I can't imagine that was too pleasant, and it made me wonder how his nose didn't end up getting broken also. ;-)

So, he's in a cast for four weeks, and a splint for two. Baseball practice started the night he got the cast on, of course. Thankfully, it's just the start of the practice season, and he should be good to go as soon as the games start up. And thankfully, it wasn't his pitching arm. Thank you, Lord!

Thanks for stopping in again, assuming I'm not talking to thin air. I'm sure I've lost most of my readers by now. If you did stop in, leave me a little comment and let me know if you have any guesses as to what I said when I signed Andrew's cast (I'll reveal the answer in the next post).

Any guesses?

Anyone?





Anyone???

garbage out, goodness in

The mind is a powerful thing.

What we put into it will always work it's way out. Out of our mouth, out of our eyes, in the way we look at others ... it affects the way we treat others, and the way we respond to the way others treat us.

That's why it's so important to limit the ample supply of garbage that gets into our heads. It's everywhere. TV, internet, books, video games, even something as simple as a restaurant slogan.

I've recognized my own need to declutter, refocus, and renew my mind. So for the last week (ah! the reason I've been rather quiet!), I've been working on laying out in written form a plan to renew my mind. It's nothing but a Word document that lists specific (sinful) thought patterns that I've developed, along with Scripture (always right thinking!) beside it.

I don't have any big plan except to keep the worksheet handy throughout the day, and especially during the times I am more susceptible to spiral downward in my thinking (usually when I'm not feeling well).

I don't expect overnight change, but I do expect it to make a gradual difference in my life. I'm actively replacing bad thoughts with right thoughts - my thoughts with God's thoughts. I'm tossing out the garbage, and pouring His goodness in.

Proverbs 23:7 teaches, "For as [one] thinks in his heart, so is he." The only way for me to become more Christ-like is to think more like Christ thinks. So, this is my attempt to set my mind on the right path, stop giving into every emotion in the book, stop making excuses for the way I am, and let God have control over my mind. 

I fully expect God to do His part, if I will do my part. So as I study, please pray for me, that I will be willing to change, that God's Word will permeate my heart so thoroughly that my actions begin to radically change, and that my motivations will become more and more pure. And that God will ultimately use my life for His glory. 

That's a lot of work. 

Only God could do that. 

i confess

Ever wondered if there's anything I need to 'fess up to?

I didn't think so.

But just in case there is, I'm joining MamaKat's writing workshop this week, and 'fessing up is the prompt I chose.

So! Things I may or may not need to 'fess up to:

• I take a nap every day. 

Sounds lazy doesn't it? Truth is, if I didn't have to, I wouldn't. Needing one irritates me, and I'd much rather sew or read or get some house cleaning done. Unfortunately, if I skip it, I get sick (usually a migraine). Because of my stomach issues, I can't take pain medication, and it continues to get more complicated from there. I'll spare you the details. But now you know that this blogger is also a napper.

• I went to see the King Tut exhibit this last week ... 

and I'm totally in love with some of the jewelry that the queens wore back in that era. I'm thinking one of them would completely solve all of my financial problems. If I got away with stealing it, I'd be set financially. If not, I'd still be set. Jailhouses feed and clothe their inmates, right?


Seriously though. I was amazed at the intricate detail of one particular solid gold necklace. It was massive, and oh so dainty, all at the same time. Simply incredible. 


When the exhibit is in your area, be sure to go (but leave your camera at home - no pictures allowed). You'll especially love seeing the sarcophagus that held King Tut's stomach!! Eww!

• The best article I've read this week is called "Social Media and Digital Discernment."

If you blog, read blogs, Facebook, Tweet, etc., this article is for you. It'll really keep things in perspective ... if you can have an honest opinion about yourself. 'Nuff said about that. You be the judge.

•  I want a grandbaby.

To love, cherish, kiss on the cheek (over and over and over), make a quilt for,  photograph, be his/her Grandma. Or Meemaw. Or Grammy. Or Marmie. Or whatever he/she wants to call me. He/she can call me Frank for all I care. As long as I can love him/her and sing "Jesus Loves Me" to him/her while bouncing on my knee, I'm good.

No pressure, Ashlee and Daniel.

And last one ....

•  My New Year's Resolution is simple: Get a new header!

Mine is sooo outdated. I think Andrew has literally grown 10 inches since that picture of him in the water. Ashlee's married now, Jessie has short hair, and Shaun and I never kiss like that.

I'm kidding!

We basically look the same. Perhaps a little more gray in our hair(s).

If you have any uber cool (should be read as free) sites that you know of that are good for customizing headers, will you let me know? It's been so long since I put the current one together, that I forgot where I got it from.

Pathetic, I know.

That's all the 'fessing up I have for now. Dangerous life I live, eh?

P.S. I realized after writing this that the pic up on the header isn't the one of Shaun and I kissing.

Stop laughing.

This is simply proof that I'm losing my mind and am therefore Grandma material! 

blessed be the name of the Lord

I don't write much about the trials of my life. I'm not trying to hide the fact that I have trials, so that my life seems squeaky clean here on Prairie Tales. But it seems as though it's nearly impossible to share a lot without breaking the confidence of someone I love. So I remain quiet out of respect for them.

The fact is, for the last decade, we've been hit hard with major issues (plural - definitely plural!). Everywhere from health issues to family problems ... and beyond.

Through all of it, my faith has wavered ... from strong to weak, to nearly extinct, and back to vibrant (repeat said cycle at least six times). I haven't been consistent in remaining strong. And yet, no matter how weak I get, no matter how doubtful I get that He is still there, the Lord remains faithful.

He never left. I left. 

He never moved away from me. I moved away from Him, because I doubted His love for me. In fact, I doubted His very existence.

Well ... no more. 

Never again do I want to be an unfaithful doubter. I want my faith to stabilize. No more flip-flopping, tossing to and fro, like a ship without a sail. I don't want to cry "He loves me!" one day, and the next day "He loves me not!" - like some foolish schoolgirl. I want to be anchored to Him, remaining confident of my Savior's love, faithfulness, and goodness.

And so ... in looking back on the truly horrible week I just experienced, I want to publicly confess that Jesus is still Lord ...

 ... still loves me ...

 ... and still sits on His throne above.

And "When the darkness closes in, still I will say ... 'Blessed be the name of the Lord.'"

Though I am prone to wander, I still choose to say "Blessed be the name of the Lord."

I hope you can too.

pooh bear

Today I'm joining MamaKat at Mama's Losin' It. Each week, she sends out writing prompts, and we get to choose which one we'd like to participate in.

I chose writing prompt #1:  In what way were you labeled as a child and how did it affect you?

My Dad had a real knack for doling out nicknames. I swear (but not really) that he's the best I've ever seen at renaming people. Not that the people ever ask for it, mind you. But nevertheless, his talent far outweighs any other.


For example, I have two older brothers. Bob and Larry are their real names (and no, they are not a tomato and cucumber). But according to Dad, they're Mort (short for rigor mortis), and Leapin' Larry Lizzard (or just Lizzard), respectively.


And our friend who stuck a rock up his nose and had to be rushed to the doctor? Twenty years later, he's still not referred to as Michael. He's Rock Beak.

And me? Well, I'm Brenda Pooh. Or Pooh Bear, Pooey, Pooey Looey Fooey, or any other funky combinations.

How did that label affect me as a child? Hmm. Well, I was also known (by my teachers) as being "drifty," a daydreamer, one who would forget her head if it weren't screwed on .. and even stupid. (To this day, I hope the teacher who told me I was dumb either got fired or retired. She truly had no business being a teacher.)

Maybe if the label Pooh Bear was my one and only label, I wouldn't have thought much of it. But group that label with the other labels, and I think it somewhat made an impact on my ability to believe I was intelligent. I mean, let's face it. Pooh Bear's dumber than a rock. A "bear of very little brain."


I do confess that I am a daydreamer. To this day, I find myself in a group conversation, but thinking about something completely different. Or watching tv, but not hearing or seeing anything I'm looking at. Not constantly ... but it is definitely a battle.


Does that mean I'm stupid?

No, it does not.

But it took me a couple of decades to overcome believing that I was. You don't have to hear something over and over for it to make an impact. Sometimes, if words are hurtful enough, you only need to hear them once before the damage is done.

Where does one turn when their "self-esteem" is ripped away or severely damaged?

All I know is that eventually, you have to turn to someone other than the flawed people whom we live with on this planet. And I eventually came to the conclusion that it only matters what my Creator thinks. Scripture has taught me that "I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Ps. 139:14)" and that I am "loved with an everlasting love (Jer. 31:3)". Not only that, but I am "precious in His sight (Is. 43:4)."


Does realizing these truths mean I don't have challenges?

No.

Does it excuse me from trying my hardest, and learning to concentrate better?

Nope.

But it does validate me as a person who is loved by my God, with an everlasting love. He created me, and I am precious in His sight.


If that doesn't boost a gal's feeling of self-worth, I don't know what will.

I'm reminded of the old sing-song "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

That's the biggest lie I've ever heard. Words do hurt. Words have incredible impact. So please ... think before you speak, especially when you're speaking to a child.

I asked my Dad a while back whether I was nicknamed Pooh Bear because I was a "kid of very little brain." His answer made me smile. He said, "Noooooo!! It was because Pooh Bear was so cute, and so were you!"

Fortunately, I never realized Pooh was referred to as a bear of very little brain until I was older.

And fortunately, Dad still calls me Brenda Pooh. 

wednesday mishmash

Yes, I'm back. No, I haven't dropped off the face of the earth.

Darn gravity.

I haven't been feeling very well, and blogging is always the first to go. I'm a bit back up to par today, and hopefully I'll stay that way. I was a little disappointed when I stepped on the scales this morning. My jeans haven't been fitting very well, telling me my butt was disappearing. Anyway, I'm officially two whole pounds underweight. I normally fluctuate between right on the border to five pounds over. At Ashlee's wedding, I was nearly 10 pounds heavier than I am now. So ... I'm not happy. But ... I also don't know what to do about it. I'm eating as much as I can.

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I've been experimenting in the sewing arena. I've branched out of quilting, and am now making various other items. Almost done with them, and I'll post a picture next post. Scout's honor!

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I was cleaning our bedroom last night, and ran across a pile of papers Shaun had put next to the alarm clock. This was among them, in his own handwriting:

How to bore your audience:


1. Stare at the power point while talking.

2. Before the start of the meeting, show no energy.

3. Avoid eye contact.

4. Let your sentences trail ... off ... to ... nothing ...

5. Mumble.

6. Remain glued to a 3 foot diameter circle on the floor.

I assumed he wrote it down quoting some famous Pastor or something, trying to better himself when he preaches. Turns out, he wrote it in a really boring meeting at work. Hahaha! I thought that was hilarious. Somebody could actually turn that into a dang good article and sell it!

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This girl:

 Is leaving tomorrow to go see this happy newlywed couple:

And

I

am

jealous!

But so happy they get to spend some quality sister time together.

Have fun, girls!!!  And don't OD on the Starbucks, eh?

my calling

I don't have a career.

And in my (almost) 21 years of marriage, I have never had a career. I've done a few odd jobs ... provided daycare for a few months, cleaned a few houses ... but I've purposely tried to focus on raising a family.

In five years, it'll all be over. My youngest will be all grown and well on his way to becoming independant.

I can't say I've never become distracted from my goal. I've volunteered too much at a few churches. I've spent too much time with friends. I've been selfish with my time. But as a whole, Shaun and I have kept our eye on the goal. The bullseye of us raising our kids, and not the school system or the babysitter.

As the school year starts once again in a few weeks, I've been reminding myself of our goal to stick it out until the end. Homeschooling a teenage boy can be God's #1 tool for sanctifying me. But I've come to realize that it's worth every second. I don't want to raise a kid that blends in well with the crowd. I want to raise a kid that sticks out because of his unusual, but healthy dose of character. A boy whose Christian beliefs have taken root and have changed the way he looks from other kids.

Of course it's not just homeschooling that keeps me home. I know without a doubt that all the laundry, cooking, cleaning, and loving my husband would go out the window if I were to pick up a career and run with it. I'm simply unable to physically keep up with working outside the home. Granted, that may be because of my health issues. But that simply strengthens my resolve to be a keeper of the home. I know my limitations, and I am simply reminding myself of them as I step into another year of homeschooling.

My limitations are something I've learned to embrace, and not fight against. And if that means less money, and thereby windows without frilly curtains, driving a few clunkers, and limiting our eating out ... then so be it.

I know I'm doing the right thing ... my life's calling.

How 'bout you? What is your life calling? Are you sure of it? Do you rest in knowing you are in the right place, doing God's will for your life, even if all the little details aren't what you'd like them to be?

believe it or not

Sharing a post with you today that I wrote on my writing blog. I struggle with knowing how much content from over there to share with you here. It's because I'm crazy and I don't know what I'm doing. Anyway, here's the post. Hope you enjoy it.
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Courtesty of Photobucket

Do you ever feel like Christianity isn’t working for you? Do others seem to flourish spiritually, while you sit idly by, struggling and not feeling the love and security they are obviously in tune to?

I’ve been there for long periods of time in my life. It’s like seeing people sing … without the ability to hear the joyous melody or the soul quenching lyrics. Like watching people eat, while sitting by and only dreaming of how a warm brownie and ice cold vanilla ice cream melt in their mouths. Or being on a ride at the fair. The ride tech does everything in his power to make the little spinny teacup ride as enjoyable as possible, but as I spin around and around, the laughter never spills over. Because I’m so void of joy that the simple pleasures of life are no longer pleasures. They’re annoyances. And it seems as though spiritual life becomes a joy and satisfaction meant for others only.

That’s not how God wants it, of course. He wants us to “taste and see that the Lord is good.” Has he not given us all things richly to enjoy?

In my soul searching, and studying, I’ve come to realize that the missing ingredient to joy is usually belief. Or you might say faith. It’s one thing to read God’ Word and agree with it. It’s another to believe the promises that are clearly laid out.

Does having a double dose of faith mean that all of my life’s circumstances will turn out for the better? Does it mean I’ll never lose a child? Never get sick? That my kids will always make good decisions?

Of course not. But expecting those things (wittingly or unwittingly) will wreak some serious spiritual havoc.

I’m not going to claim that I understand why one person has trials and not another. Or why the jerks of this world seem to get much further than the godly. It truly does not make any sense to me, and it seems as though the evil flourish while the righteous perish at times. But am I going to believe that God is in control, and that all things work together to those that love Him? Will I choose to believe Psalm 1 when it says, “For the LORD knows the way of the righteous, but the way of the ungodly shall perish”?

It’s evident to me that true joy and happiness are determined in which belief I choose.

I can believe all things work together for my good. Or not.

I can believe He loves me with an everlasting love. Or not.

I can believe He loves my children more than I do. Or not.

I can believe every hardship placed in my life has a purpose, and He is working. And pruning. And refining my heart. Or not.

I can either be tossed to and fro, like a ship on a stormy sea. Or I can be rooted, grounded, and peaceful …

like a tree

Planted by the rivers of water,

That brings forth its fruit in its season,

Whose leaf also shall not wither;

And whatever he does shall prosper. (Ps. 1:3)

It all depends on what I believe.

Or not.

“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” Mark 9:24

the pitcher

The Titans and the Rattlers were in the top of the third inning. Rattlers were up to bat, with two outs, and the pitcher was working hard to make it a third. The score was one to nothing, Titans on top.

It was the first game of a single elimination tournament. Schedules were tight and time was limited. As a result, the pitcher’s warm up time was cut short. After the first inning, his arm felt a tad strained, but not bad enough to be voluntarily benched. Besides – he knew the team needed him. By the top of the third, he had thrown a few wild pitches as a result of the strain - two of which made contact with the batters.

The batter took a few practice swings while the pitcher readied himself to throw once more. The pitcher raised the glove and ball above his head to begin his windup. His left foot stepped backwards. Then the glove came forward, and rested on his chest for a moment. His left knee came up, he stepped towards home, reached back, and threw hard.

At first, it looked like it would be a strike, but it quickly veered inside, and SMACK! It hit the batter.

The third batter of the game.

The umpire told the batter to take his base, and the Rattler’s coach began making his way out to the field. He approached the ump, and said “That’s the third time he’s hit someone this game. They need to take him out.”

The Titans fans were unsure whether the request was a rule or a preference. They watched as the umpire walked toward the Titans coach. Then the coach and ump made their way to the mound, removing all doubt from the spectator’s minds.

The Titan’s best pitcher . . . the one the team counted on . . . would have to step off the mound.

The pitcher slowly handed the ball to the umpire. With his shoulders and head hung low, he headed towards his alternative position of third base, receiving a few pats of understanding and forgiveness from his teammates along the way.

But the pats were little comfort. He had let his team down in the most important game of the season. Nevermind that the the ump made a bad call on the second batter he supposedly hit. That batter had swung on that pitch. The ball had hit the bat, not his hands. Although the Titans coach tried to reason with the ump about that call, and convince him to not count it, there was really no use arguing about it. It was what it was.

The next batter was on his way up to bat. The game would go on, regardless of the pitcher’s feelings or the coach’s lobbying.

And that’s when it happened.

All time stood still, as that pitcher made the long walk from third base to first base, where the batter he had struck stood with one foot on the base, one on the field. You could almost hear a pin drop, in spite of the park being crowded.

Nobody heard the exact words of the pitcher. But his body language told them that he was offering a sincere apology.

Silence hung in the air.

When the apology was accepted with grace and forgiveness, the Rattler’s fan club broke the silence with a round of applause, showing their appreciation of the pitcher’s good sportsmanship.

The pitcher simply jogged back to third base, put his glove back on, slapped it, and positioned himself to play ball.

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As that pitcher’s mother, I can honestly say that I’ve never been more touched, more thankful for, or more humbled by my own son. My eyes had welled up with tears when the umpire took the ball from him. My heart ached because I knew how bad his ached.

But when he treaded that seemingly long, humble road from third to first, my heart flip flopped. My thirteen year old son was making one of the best decisions he would ever make. He was choosing to be humble in a world that incessantly tells him to be proud, to stick up for himself. My heart pounded louder and harder, and more tears came to my eyes as I realized he had made this apology on his own accord, with no prompting from anyone but the Holy Spirit.

As it turned out, the Titans lost the game.

But somehow, it didn’t matter. Because ultimately, my son had won bigger than he had ever won in his life.

I love you, Andrew. Thanks for making this Father’s Day one that your dad and I will never forget. For doing what’s right. For setting an example to your teammates. And for honoring and glorifying the name of your Heavenly Father.

blog announcement!

We interrupt this blog to bring you an announcement! This announcement is a service of the Prairie Tales blogging network. Please remain seated until this announcement is completely finished. Your patience is appreciated.

Ok, seriously!! I'm excited to let you know that my new blog, The Broken Quill, is up and running!! No, this does not mean that Prairie Tales is shutting down, although there will be some changes made to it in the near future. It just means that I saw the need to begin a writing blog, and I didn't see a way to mesh Prairie Tales in with it.

So Prairie Tales will remain my family blog, while The Broken Quill will be my more professional, straighten up and fly right, and try not to be so sarcastic kinda blog.

Darn you, professionalism.

I would love it if you would head over there and take a little look see. It has an awesome comment layout, where I can directly reply to the comments that you leave, and you can subscribe to any follow up comments by email.

This is called .... benefits of a WordPress blog. :-)

Not that I'm biased or anything.

Ahem! See you over there!

reflections from a mother's heart - entry 1

**Click on the left hand side bar, under Reflection from a Mother's Heart to read more about these entries.

Question: What was your favorite pastime as a child? Did you prefer doing it alone or with someone else?

Hands down, I choose the frequent trips to my Grandma Brown's house. Although it was fun to be with Grandma by myself, I think it was funner when the whole family was there : aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents.

Many times, the kids would simply play on Grandma's two acres, lush with grass, rose bushes, willow trees, and fruit trees - all while the parents talked politics inside. We loved it when a good political talk was brewing. It meant sneaking a few of Grandpa's Oreo cookies from the cookie jar, pouring a small cup of coffee, and dipping them - just like Grandpa would.

As we got older, it also meant (for some of us), smoking on the hill conveniently nestled out of view from her front window. But we'll not discuss that.

Other pastimes at Grandma's house were playing games, eating her fantastic cooking (specifically her biscuits and gravy, peanut butter balls, and pies!), and canning fruits and vegetables. Her and my mom knew how to make work seem like a wild and crazy good time. Grandma was the oldest of nine kids, and learned early in life how to work. Working was always regarded as a good and necessary thing, and I admired her ability to simultaneously love it and have fun.

Much to be thankful for.

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How about you? Do you have a favorite pastime? I'd love to hear them in the comments section, or if you prefer - start a discussion in my new BlogFrog Community widget! See? Over there, on the left hand side! In fact, I'll start a discussion about this, and you can just follow me over there. See ya' there!

reflections from a mother's heart

I picked up a journal from the used book store the other day. Not a used one, of course. But obviously one that soemone out there didn't feel the need to fill out - so they sold it to this used book store. It's called Reflections from a Mother's Heart: Your Life Story in Your Own Words. On the top, it says "A Family Legacy for Your Children."

Wow.

I flipped through the pages. I've seen many books just like this one. Only I had yet to find one that asked questions that I thought really applied to me. So I never bought them.

Until now.

I turned the pages, reading the questions they were asking mom's to answer. And I knew that this mom could answer all (or at least most) of what they were asking. So for a whoppin' five dollars, I bought the book.

I will fill the book out manually, but I also thought I would begin sharing some of it here also. I'll put all of these entries under the label of Reflections from a Mother's Heart, over on the left side bar.

For the first day, they ask me to fill out a "personal portrait." But they ask way too much information to be divulging on a blog. So I'll start with the next entry:

What is your favorite?

Flower: It's a tie between light pink roses and tulips.

Perfume: I hate them all. They give me nothing but nausea. Shaun and I are well matched in this area, since they all make him sneeze. ;)

Color: Red!

Hymn or Song: Nearer Still Nearer

Book: Way too many to name, and I don't think I can pick just one! I know, I know. If I were a good Christian, I'd say the Bible. But I always feel like I'm trying to be holier than thou when I say that.

Author: Jeanette Oke and Francine Rivers are two of my faves. Also, Catherine Marshall.

Bible verse: This changes throughout life. Right now, I'd have to say Ephesians 1:3-9

Dessert: When I could eat dessert, it was anything chocolate. Brownies ranked high, as did rocky road ice cream. Yum!

Vacation Spot: Western Colorado.

Type of Food: Anything in the category of JUNK!

Sport: Baseball - hands down.

Leisure Activity: Reading, or a hand project that involves a needle and thread.

Don't worry. Not all of these will be like a meme. We're going to get into some good stuff. Might even be juicy, so come back often. ;)

So ... pick one or two (or all!) and let me know what your faves are.

Please.

The beauty of the written word is that it can be held close to the heart and read over and over again. ~Florence Littauer

simple woman's daybook

I've been meaning to link up to The Simple Woman's Daybook for quite some time, so I'm going to take the plunge! Head on over to The Simple Woman's website to link up and read some of the other entries.


FOR TODAY


Outside my window... Cloudy with a chance of meatballs (we're having spaghetti for dinner, Lord willing).

I am thinking... That I should hurry up and get school started (yes, we're still doing school) so that I can be ready for my nieces to come over later today.

I am thankful for... A patient husband, an even more patient Heavenly Father, and SUMMER. :)

From the learning rooms... I'm studying a photoshop book right now that I got for my birthday. It's a little frustrating for someone who doesn't learn well from the written word. Even if there's pictures. I'm a hands on learner ... but, at least I try.

From the kitchen... Spaghetti for dinner, I have a roast in the crockpot for myself (since I can't have spaghetti), and I'd like to make some blueberry muffins and some blondie brownies. We'll see how well the nieces behave.

I am wearing... My pink, fuzzy robe. But not for long.

I am creating... a novel.

I am going... to write a letter to Peter today. Remember, Peter's in Marine boot camp. We finally have his address, so I'm going to write, write, write. 

I am reading... A Wife After God's Own Heart, by Elizabeth George.

I am hoping... that my neck stops hurting.

I am hearing... birds chirping, fingers typing, and the fan upstairs.

Around the house... it's dusty.

One of my favorite things... photography!

A few plans for the rest of the week: Two baseball games, a baby shower for a friend at church, and family from Oregon coming to stay for a week!

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing:

(Taken from downtown Denver when we saw Peter off to boot camp. I'm obviously not accustomed to large buildings, so I had to take a picture.)

today is the day

It's time to pack up my office and leave. I've been fired.

Just kidding.

But today really is the day that I pack up my home office, where I've been the secretary for our church plant the last three years, and hand it over to someone else.

Sometimes, when  I make a decision, I'm not very sure about whether it's the right one. I don't like that hindsight is 20/20. Why can't foresight be 20/20?

Probably because God wants us to pray and then trust. And talk to our husbands to see what they think. ;) I did all three of those, and came to the conclusion that God was nudging me to hand the secretarial position to someone else.

There was so much that I liked about it. But if I was honest with myself, it was a stretch to be able to put in the hours that our church is needing at this point in it's growth process. I needed more time for family and homeschooling, more time for God, and more time to work on my writing. They needed more time put into secretarial work, and more time to come into the office a few days a week.

I digress.

I'm thankful for new doors that open, and that God hasn't put me on a shelf to collect dust bunnies. I'm still usable, because I'm still here. And if I'm still here, God has a plan for me.

For that, I am inexpressibly grateful.

Here's to new beginnings. To renewed commitments. And to exciting and wide open opportunities to glorify God, and make Him look as big and as good as He really is.

Leave me a "here! here!" if you are with me!!

the gift of goosebumps

Last night, I sat in my purple, frayed lawn chair as I watched Andrew pitch a seven inning game. The sun was out, the mountains in the background were unbelievably beautiful, and my son was having an awesome game. I didn't think it could get any better.

It was the first warm game of the season. But if you've ever experienced Colorado weather, you know it can change in a flash.

The weather remained calm, the wind kept its distance, and it seemed everyone was having the time of their lives. But then the sun went behind the mountains. It was still pleasant enough, and to most folks, it was a relief from the glaring sunshine.

But I shivered and slipped my fleece jacket on, and wondered if I'd eventually need the other three jackets or the wool blanket that I faithfully bring to each game. If the wind picked up, or clouds began to roll over the top of the mountains, I would eventually don each and every winter good I brought, and wish for more.

I continued watching the game.

"Who would have ever thought I should have brought a jacket?" I heard a shaky voice behind me say.

I turned to see an old lady sitting four bleachers up. I'd never seen her before. I later came to realize that she was likely our catcher's grandmother. She was quite thin, with stark white hair. Even though it was warm when she arrived, she wore a long sleeve sweat suit and tennis shoes.

I knew then that we possessed a common trait - the inability to stay warm.

I stole another glance at her. Her body was arched over, arms and legs crossed to keep the warmth in. Her smile was broad, revealing a road map of wrinkles as she watched her grandson catch my son's pitches.

I smiled too. But my smile quickly turned upside down and I felt a pang of guilt. After all, I was sitting comfortably with my jacket butttoned up to my neck, two jackets resting on the back of my chair, and a wool blanket under my toosh. Not to mention my husbands jacket lying on the ground next to me.

I'm too shy, I thought.

Chicken!

I ignored the accusation and went on watching the game. The wind picked up a bit. I shivered, and again I remembered the lady behind me.

I stole another glance at her.

Still hunched over. Still cold. Still smiling.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I hate being cold, and I knew it happened just as easily to her as it does to me. Everyone else seemed warm and comfortable. I was the only one who knew how she felt. And I was the only one who could help her.

I pryed my sorry, shy tooshy off the purple, tattered lawn chair, and grabbed a jacket that I was sure would completely cover her. I slowly made my way up the bleachers, trying to stay out of people's view of the game. I wrapped the jacket around her shoulders, and said, "I can't stand to see you over here shivering when I have all those jackets just sitting there waiting to be used."

I made sure the jacket was snug.

She smiled at me, and the lines in the map grew deeper.

"Thank you so much. I should have thought to bring something for myself."

"Well, you're new here," I assured her. "I've learned to come prepared, even when the weather is beautiful."

She seemed happy with that response, and even happier that she could sit and watch the game, goosebump free.

I, however, was not goosebump free - a gift given to me not by the weather, but by her pricelss look of gratefulness.

How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these. ~George Washington Carver

You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

first shave

I remember my first shave.

No, I do not have a mustache. Although, I know women who do.

I mean my first leg shave. I was young (but hairy). My father's nickname is Hair Bag, and well ... you draw the conclusion.

The day was a scorcher (yes, we have those in Colorado). My brother's and I went to the pool for an afternoon swim. They were decked out in their manly trousers, with uber hairy legs and arms. I was decked out my turquoise one-piece - with uber hairy legs and arms. It was straight. It was black. And it was long.


Still, I was just a little girl, at the age of eleven. What did I care about shaving legs?


None at all, until that day.


Peer pressure and relentless teasing will do strange things to pubescent kids. Some go so far as to get wild piercings or not eat, putting their health and the sanity of their parents at risk. Fortunately, the only thing at risk here was some wiry leg hair, and my pride.


Later that day, I asked my mom if I could shave. I didn't have a razor, and even if I did, I'd be afraid I'd cut myself and then she'd be mad at me when I bled all over the carpet and didn't ask for permission. Mom liked us to ask permission for everything. Even if we wanted to eat a few snack crackers.


Still, Mom was pretty observant. She knew my father was half monkey and that I had inadvertently inherited the trait, even though my chromosomes cried for different circumstances. She agreed to let me shave, if I promised I'd be careful, clean the razor, and keep up the shaving once I started.


"It's gross when people have already started shaving their legs and don't keep up with the task," she scolded me like I had already committed the offense.


No problem, Mom. I think the man jokes were enough to keep me shaving every day until the day I die.


My first shave consisted of opening a pack of new razor blades, and inserting it into the old fashioned razor. With fear and trepidation, I ran the new razor across my scrawny, hair infested legs.


Oooouuuuuchhhh!!!


With more fear and trepidation (and wisdom), I lathered up my scrawny, less hair infested legs and proceeded. One hot water heater of water later, I began to look like a model (or so I hoped). Silky, smooth, white skin came shining through. Afterwards, I dabbed some of Mom's Johnson & Johnson baby lotion on.


I was a new creature.


One that couldn't be laughed at and referred to as an ape. One that was just like her peers, which so often becomes an adolescent's goal.


I guess for men, it's different. Having ugly, wiry hair is cool.

Studly.

Bursting with testosterone.

It  means you've reached the pinnacle of manhood. In womanhood, it means that you've reached the pinnacle of cooeyness.


I'll be the first to say that Andrew does indeed have a (slight) need to shave. And he didn't shave because of any teasing, or peer pressure. No, he shaved out of a pure desire to be a studly man. Like his dad, his new brother-in-law, and his brother-in-law to be.


You may have gathered that from the sparkle in his eyes.




Even so ... whatever you do, son, don't care too much about what other people think. Care what God thinks about you. Be a God pleaser, not a man pleaser. The kids at the pool, they only care about making you look small so that they can look big. God cares about what's best for you.


Perhaps the hard school of knocks is the only way a kid can learn these things. But if you can at all learn a thing or two from your mom, let this be one of them.

Colossians 1:-9-14


For this reason we also, since the day we heard it, do not cease to pray for you, and to ask that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding; that you may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing Him, being fruitful in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God; strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power, for all patience and longsuffering with joy; giving thanks to the Father who has qualified us to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has delivered us from the power of darkness and conveyed us into the kingdom of the Son of His love, in whom we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins.


~Brenda, the clean shaven mama on the Prairie

the fall of a sparrow

Matthew 10:29-31 

Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.

As Andrew and I took a walk around the block today, I was doing what I normally do - my head hung low, oblivious to everything going on around me. It's a bad habit I've formed. A wise person would walk with their head high, enjoying the weather, the trees, the beautiful mountainous scenery that I've been blessed to have outside my front door. But alas, I choose to hone in on my dingy tennis shoes.

I was chatting to Andrew about the next school year, discussing which classes he would like to take outside of homeschooling when I noticed an odd looking form lying on the sidewalk. At first I thought it was a child's toy. But the closer I got, I realized it was a bird. A baby bird, too small and young to have grown any feathers ... and lifeless. His gray, limp body, topped with a bright yellow beak lay sprawled out before me in a pathetic, twisted manner. It was then that I lifted my head, in search of the mama.

No sign of her.

I'm sure the bird was snuggled safely in its nest in the nearby tree, along with siblings, their mother hovering over them ... and then BAM! Spring Prairie wind, and snow (yes, I said snow!), and freezing temperatures out of nowhere came rushing in, catching the mama off guard.

While there was nothing I could do for the bird, I contemplated scooping it up, and giving it a proper burial. Instead, I continued walking, and rounded the next corner. As I put one foot in front of the other, I thought, God knows about that bird. Not one sparrow falls without Him knowing about it, and that sparrow is no exception.  

It dawned on me at that moment that, although I cared about that bird and especially its mama, God cared more. I think that bird was a pretty special bird. But God loved that sparrow more than I could. He created it!

He also created me ... and His word tells me that I am of more value than that sparrow. In fact, I am of more value than many sparrows. If that bird had any feathers, I'm sure God knows exactly how many. Just as He knows how many hairs are on my head. This is no small feat, folks. The hairs on my head are constantly changing in number. I find them everywhere in the house, the car, my purse. I shed like a chemo patient. But God knows exactly how many are still attached. At all times. Simply because He cares even about the little details of my life. Including whether I stumble across a fallen bird that reaffirms His love for me.

If that won't make a person hold their head high, I don't know what will.

~Brenda

Mixed Feelings

I've been the secretary for our dear little church plant on a hill in a rented school gym for about the past three years.
For various reason, that's coming to a close.

When I began this work, I didn't have a clue what I was doing (typical for volunteers). But I learned to do so many things! How to operate Microsoft Word, make Power Points, book lots of flights, construct fancy smancy emails, and I generally got better at being able to communicate with others (definitely not a strong point of mine). I can write til the cows come home, but put me on a telephone and I tend to crumble like a stale cookie dropped on a hardwood floor.

When I began this secretarial opportunity, I viewed it as a ministry. Not only to our church, but also to our Pastor, whose desire was to be more free to preach and pray. I loved having a specific ministry in the church, and as this one comes to a close, I find myself a bit "lost" - not knowing where my place is, or when and where I should minister. But I know God will reveal to me what the next step is, in time. I am not in a huge hurry, nor am I terribly concerned about it.

Outside of church, one thing I will put more time and effort into is this blog. Most of what I write here is largely unedited, unplanned, and written in a mad dash.

Perhaps you could tell ...

But as I hand off all of the secretarial duties next month, I anticipate a less cluttered mind and schedule, which will hopefully make it possible to write better, mommy better, wifey better, and just plain be better!

So while I'm sad to leave my current ministry, I am excited to have new beginnings. I normally loathe change, but I have come to understand that change is not all together evil. Even change that hurts can be for the better.

I trust that it will be so in this situation. As always, God has a plan. My job is to follow in that plan the best way I know how. To do what He has called me to do. And to glorify Him in the process.

I hope you'll stick around, and come along with me in the process.

Love,

~Brenda

Snail Mail, Snot, And The Springs

Snail Mail

In the last couple of weeks, I've gotten back to the old art of letter writing. And sending them snail mail. You know, the kind where you use a pen, jot a few lines down, place it in an envelope, stick a stamp on it, and walk it out to the mail.

Sounds like a pain, huh?

Well, yes. It kind of is. It's harder than whipping up an email and hitting the send button. But it's so much more rewarding. Not just for the recipient, but for the sender. To me, there's nothing better than getting a handwritten note in my mailbox. Even if it's a one-liner. It means someone took the time to sit down and think about me. I hope that's the message I'm conveying when I send my little notes and letters. I just want folks to know I'm thinking of them, praying for them, or to let them know what it is that I appreciate about them.

So try your hand (pun intended!) at old fashioned letter writing like the old Pioneer women on the Prairie used to do! You (and those you send them to) will be glad you did!

Snot

And lots of it, folks! My face has been a faucet dripping with it since Wednesday. Thanks to a friend's suggestion, I'm getting better.

What did she suggest?
She suggested snorting salt up my snout! How silly is that?! Surprisingly, it was a successful suggestion that led to less sniffing, sneezing, and stuffy sinuses! What a sweetie!

Sorry - alliteration bug bit me!

The Springs

If you live in Colorado, you'd know what I meant by the Springs. If not, then I'll tell you I mean Colorado Springs. You know, where the famous Focus on the Family headquarters are ... and the Air Force Academy (that my beloved, future son-in-law graduated from) is? Yeah, that one! That's where I took a little trip to today to retrieve my darling daughters and Peter from (see side bar pics). The best man in the wedding is moving there, so they figured they would help him out by traveling there, unloading the truck, then making the hop to home. Point is -  Ashlee is finally home with us once again! April 24th is two weeks away, and much preparation is needed to get this wedding on the up and up. However, we're together now, and that makes everything so much better. Working together means progress. Working 2,000 miles apart means chaos. Ha! So welcome home, Ashlee! Now let's get to work!

More to come on the wedding plans, and my little life in general. In the meantime, dig out your handy dandy stationery, and jot a note to someone you love. It's hard to find the time! As a mother of the bride, I know this. But sometimes the rewards far outweigh the sacrifice of time.

Until next time,

~Brenda

Psalm 25:11 - A word fitly spoken (or written!) is like apples of gold in pictures of silver. (parenthetical comment mine)

Thoughts Of A Mother-In-Law To Be

Ahem!! Remember this couple? Yeah, the ones getting married in 18 days? Yeah, them. Ashlee will be home on Saturday!!! Sister Jessie is out in Georgia as I "speak" having a week long party with Daniel, Ashlee, and Peter before driving back with Ashlee, Peter, and Daniel's best man, Eric.

Clear as mud? Good!

It's been challenging to plan a wedding so far apart, but I think we've done fairly well. Having said that, the you know what might hit the fan when Ashlee gets here and it dawns on us what we've forgotten. However, if that happens, I'm sure I will be cool, calm, and collected. Because Prairie Girls .... they're always dignified like that, mmmhmmm.

All dresses are bought (but not all have not come to the house yet - including mine), flowers are ordered, cake is ordered, church is reserved, reception is planned. Now if we can get all the decorations made and in order, ready to take to the chapel, I think we'll be doing good.

At least I'd like to think so.

I woke up Monday in a panic that was bigger than Texas, and I determined that it was absolutely necessary for me to put an end to it. The hymn "Moment by Moment" immediately came to my mind, and I've chosen to focus on the lyrics (even though I loathe the tune), and at the same time, asking for grace in time of need. God is faithful, and He has helped me to literally live moment by moment. Granted, that does not mean that I don't do any planning. I still make my lists and check them twice. But I want, nay need, to operate on a moment by moment basis. Any operation that requires keeping track of a lot of details has the potential to make me suffer near panic attacks. Definitely not my forte, and therefore, I am in need of an extra dose of grace and help in my time of need.

Honest and true - I am looking forward to the 24th!! I will see lots of family, friends, take lots of pictures (which is becoming more and more a love of mine) and I get to wear a pretty dress (vain, I know). In a lot of ways, it will be sad, simply because my daughter is moving away - really far away. My husband will "give her away", although if anything ever happened to Daniel, she knows we would be right here to catch her. But the "giving away" is not for the faint. She's been in our care her entire life of nineteen years.  Perhaps this is where Corrie ten Boom's advice to "hold all things loosely, so God will not have to pry them out of my hands" should be heeded. It's not that I am unwilling to let go of her. It's just that, in the letting go, I look down to see rose colored imprints on my palms and fingers. But I know that with time, this too shall pass ...

So come April24th, as I look on, Shaun will take one last walk with Ashlee as his very own, down the petal laced aisle, to meet her bridegroom in holy matrimony. Our little arrow that we have hopefully taken from our quiver of three, shot into this world to make it a better place, and to further His gospel. From that day forward, she will still be our daughter, but she will primarily be Daniel's helpmeet, his confidant, his lover ... and so much more. Such potential to be an arrow that will go far, make an impact, and hit whatever target the Lord gives her to hit. This is my sincere hope and prayer for her. And although it will not happen because of our excellent markmanship skills, I trust it will happen because God has the power to direct our precious little arrow in whatever direction He wishes. I trust Him fully with my little arrow ... in spite of my frail aim.

Much love to both Ashlee and Daniel as they embark on this crazy, exciting, wonderful, and (at times) painful thing called marriage. Always know that you are loved, prayed for, and cherished.

Much love,

Your Mama on the Prairie