Covered by Grace

"There but for the grace of God..." John Bradford

Over the past few weeks in our small group at church, we've been discussing "our stories" about how we were saved.  It was wonderful to hear the story of the man who had problems in his family life and with alcohol but completely changed when he found Jesus.  And I got chills when a girl told about how God got her attention when he gave her a word in a dream one night and it just so happened to be what the preacher was talking about the next morning at church (and Malachi is a random topic!)  I can definitely say that hearing personal testimonies of other believers is a way to unite a group and bring them together.  How can you not get excited with your small group when you get to hear how God is at work in all of your lives?!

 

Last week, I shared my story.  I've always kind of dreaded sharing my story in the small group setting, because it doesn't seem earth-shatteringly exciting.  I wasn't radically transformed from a person with a reputation of moral filth and addiction into a hungry Bible-consuming Christian in such a way that it shocked all who knew me.  As a result, I guess I've never felt that my story could really have the same kind of 1-2 punch on somebody's soul like the people who shared the week before me. 

 

But I've come to realize that my story is special and sweet.  Interestingly, it is very similar to my Dad's story...

 

I was saved at the age of 4.  My mom shared the story of the lost lamb with me and explained that I was a sinner who needed Jesus in the same way that the lost lamb needed Jesus.  I believed in Jesus and confessed my sins.  I gave my life to Jesus.  And ever since that time, God has been teaching me and molding me into the person I am today.  As far as I'm aware, I was never a "problem child" and never had the desire to get into any major trouble or illegal activity.  My friends probably considered me to be somewhat of a self-righteous prude, but the truth of the matter was that I honestly didn't have a desire to do what it took to be "cool" among so many of my peers.  I really wanted to obey Jesus.

 

So that's my story.  I'm not an amazing and wonderful person who was just molded out of moral cloth.  Instead, I am blessed to have been covered by grace at an early age.  Just like John Bradford said of a group of prisoners years ago, " But for the grace of God, there goes [me]."  I've certainly had struggles and have been taught numerous lessons by my Creator over the years. But by His grace, I've been able to avoid some utterly destructive paths.

 

I know that my story isn't over yet. Sanctification by Grace is ongoing. God is leading me and will use me as He sees fit.  He's taught me that other people's opinions of my decisions are irrelevant as long as I'm doing what He's called me to do.  And right now, he has me where he wants me for a reason.

 

My prayer is that He has me at home with my children so that they too can be saved at an early age.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if they could be covered by grace so early and protected from worldly filth?  God's grace truly is precious.  And I'm so thankful that it covers me.

Raising a Beautiful Girl

"Your adornment must not be merely external--braiding the hair, and wearing gold jewelry, or putting on dresses; but let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the imperishable quality of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is precious in the sight of God." I Peter 3:3-4

I have a problem.  It's almost like an addiction.  I can't seem to go more than a few weeks before I have this overwhelming urge to find Baby G a new hair bow or headband.  You probably think I'm kidding, but I'm not.  I have baskets full of headbands, bows, and hats for my sweet girl.  And I have enough accessories in my collection that I could probably bling out every girl in the neighborhood.  I think my years as a boy mom has somehow influenced my desire to raise a girly girl.  And it's resulted in this monster who can't resist tulle, pearls, and anything lacy and pink!

 

The other night, my friend, Jenn was sharing about her experiences raising two teenage girls.  She explained that she and her husband felt it was important to emphasize inner beauty and to distinguish inward "beauty" from outward "fancy."  Thus, when her girls dress up and bling themselves out in pretty things, she always compliments them as being "fancy."  But when their character displays beauty, she compliments them as being "beautiful." Jenn's daughters are very pretty and always well dressed, so mom isn't advocating frumpiness.  She's just trying to distinguish beauty of character from magazine-type of beauty. 

 

I'll have to admit, as the mom of a baby girl, I'm relieved that I don't have to get into these deep discussions quite yet.  It had not once crossed my mind that as Baby G gets older, I'm going to have to deal with these issues.  And I'm going to have to make sure that Baby G doesn't think that Mommy only thinks she's beautiful when she's all done up.  I want her to understand that she's beautiful because of who she is and not how she looks.  (Although I do expect her to put herself together and be a good steward of the body that God has given her!)  Part of being a girl mom involves the duty to teach my daughter how to be beautiful both inside and out.  Talk about a high calling?!

 

Jenn's talk the othe night definitely gave me something to think about.  It's okay that I'm slightly obsessed with everything glittery from the toddler department (can you believe that in less than 5 months we've already outgrown the infant section?), but my little girl also needs to learn that there's so much more to being a girl than dressing like a princess.  Being a beautiful girl also involves having a spirit of meekness and modesty, having a submissive heart (vs. 5) and living without fear (vs. 6).  And raising a beautiful girl means teaching my Baby G how to have a beautiful heart.

Spring Fashions for the "Under 5 Posse"

It finally feels like spring outside.  I'm loving the weather.  I'm loving being able to take the kiddos outside.  And I'm loving the spring fashions--the kids' spring fashion!  Here are some pics of my favorite models...

 

And somehow they all managed to "kind-of" pose together...

 

 

What is Wrong With This Picture?

This is my sweet middle child (the one who painted the hallway in yesterday's post).  I helped him get dressed today.  But I forget to make sure he had shoes on when we left the house.  So, while at lunch with Dear Husband today, I realized that he was wearing one of his big brother's flip flops (the left one) on his right foot and that he was wearing one of his own church shoes on his left foot.  Needless to say, we got a few comments from some amused old ladies at the restaurant.

 

This incident reminded me of when I was in Jr. High and my friend's mom would sometimes pick me up from school. Since she had a bus load of her own biological children, I got to ride in the 15 passenger van with all the little kids.  It was fun to be around so many children.  And it was puzzling too.  I could never understand why their mother would allow them to dress themselves before piling in the van to pick us up.  Sometimes one of the little girls would be wearing a slip and black patent shoes.  Or one of the little boys would be in a costume and rain boots.  It always seemed strange to me that their mom never bothered to coordinate everyone before leaving the house.  But now I get it. 

 

Sometimes Mommy misses the details.  Yet, life goes on.

The Next Day

 

Last Thursday, Mommy got a day off.  Okay, technically I had the afternoon off. I didn't have the kids.  I didn't do any legal work.  And I didn't do any housework.  Instead, I took a stack of coupons with me and went shopping. Ironically, I ended my trip with a stop at Toys R Us.  But at least I was able to enjoy the tranquil experience of getting to shop and think at the same time.  And when I heard crashing glass at Home Goods, I was able to sigh in relief knowing that my posse was not the cause of the breaking glass.  Anyway, Thursday was a pleasant day. It wasn't until the next day that Mommy got a migraine...

Dear Husband and I have been talking about painting our 2nd bathroom and our laundry room.  So last Friday, I broke out the paint and decided to knock out the job.  Had it not been for what occurred during my project, I would have been finished quickly.  Unfortunately, this happened:

Apparently, my middle child lost his penny and decided it was in the paint bucket.  As a result, he put both hands in the bucket and did who-knows-what?!  We had paint all over the tile floor, walls, doors, hallway, and our cute little boy. 

 

You see these kind of scenes in the movies.  The kid spills paint and the next day it's all cleaned up.  But I can assure you, it takes awhile to clean, scrub, prime, repaint, and peel up this kind of mess.  So this is what I've been up to lately.  Cleaning up messes. 

 

But at least I got a day off.

Mommy Survived March Madness

 

March Madness has taken on a whole new meaning for me this year.  And this meaning has nothing to do with basketball.  Instead, the Madness is directly related to life with 3 kids. 

 

When we tell people that we have 3 children, we always (and I mean almost 100% of the time) hear the joke about the fact that we've transitioned from man-to-man defense to zone.  As a basketball fan, I'm not sure I agree with the analogy.  You see, in man-to-man and zone, the defense is still 5 on 5.  Zone is actually easier when everybody defends their zone.  But juggling 3 kids isn't easier.

 

Adding that 3rd child to one's well-balanced life is more like getting caught in the middle of a 3 on 1 fast break when you're the only defender in front of your basket.  Typically, for this poor defender to be effective AT ALL, he has to make a smart foul in order to prevent the other team from getting a basket.  This defender doesn't get the luxury of help or a strategic defense.  This defender just has to do the best he can with what he's got.

 

Now I know that you might be thinking that technically parenting 3 kids is a 2 on 3 ordeal.  After all, there are 2 parents in this game, right?  Well, yes, of course.  But the reality of the matter is that I spend most of my days caught in the 3 on 1 fast break.  My 6' 4" defender doesn't show up until the middle of the last quarter of our day.  He tends to be very effective and does show up during the most critical part of our day (and any basketball fan knows that those last few minutes of the game are by far the most important part of any game).   But, until Daddy gets home, Mommy is on her own doing her best to defend her basket.

 

I'd like to think that I'm getting better at this 3 on 1 Mommy business, but some days I'm not so sure. About a week ago, due to a doctor's appointment, my posse and I were out and about early.  I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to stop by a local clothing store, since 10 AM on a Wednesday morning is a pretty quiet shopping time.  But when we got into the store, all chaos broke loose.  The boys started fighting about who got to push a cart (did we really need 3 carts?).  A few minutes later, Baby G kicked off her shoe and started screaming.  Right about that time, Boy 2's shoe fell off and Boy 1 took off with their cart.  Boy 2 is now screaming.  So, I picked up the baby and told the boys to get a grip.  Within 5 minutes, I think they were having an actual fistfight in the middle of the men's department.  Exasperated, I decided to take my clothes up to the register so that I could get them out of the store as fast as possible.  As soon as I paid (with my screaming baby back in her seat), I heard wailing coming from my 2nd child.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs that I forgot to buy groceries that were in his cart.  This was rather perplexing, since the store we were at doesn't sell groceries and there was nothing in his cart. He just stood there and sobbed and his brother started acting all smug that little brother was upset.  Meanwhile, I just gritted my teeth and groaned as I came to the realization that this is life with 3 kids.  Such was my month of March.

 

Parenthood is a funny thing.  When 3 kids are involved, it's certainly not an easy ball game.  It can be a constant state of unpredictable madness.  You can have a month like March and not have any recollection of accomplishing anything during the month. At least as of April 1st, my house is in a semi-decent state, my kids are clean and dressed in weather appropriate clothing, and I'm not currently suffering from a migraine. I must have done something right.  I might not have won a championship, but I survived the month of March.