Monday Madness

When I worked Mondays at the hospital it was always craziness. Pure craziness. I thought that when I started staying home with the kids that Monday would just be another day. Boy, was I wrong. Monday is still just as crazy as ever.

This morning my oldest woke up me, nothing unusual about that, she's an early riser. Then I noticed the chunks of missing hair. Chunks of missing hair. Wait, what is going on here? Why does your head look like this?

We just had this conversation last night. Last. Night. We read Fancy Nancy Hair Dos and Hair Don'ts. In the story fancy Nancy cuts her own hair with scissors to make it fancy for school pictures. Then she is embarrassed, because her hair looks terrible. She regrets cutting it and gets in trouble with her parents, because she broke the rule of only using scissors for paper. I remember thinking what a great teaching moment! My dear 4 year old, with the thick wavy locks, and I had a great discussion. We talked about how, just like at Nancy's house, scissors are for paper and how only mommy uses them to cut hair.

Fail. Apparently, all that actually happened was me giving my own fancy Nancy the brilliant idea to cut her hair.

Not only did she cut her own hair, she cut the hair of several baby dolls and a pony. Here is the evidence.

After we had a nice recap of the previous nights conversation, and I dispensed some discipline we settled into the morning as usual.

I had told the girls yesterday that we were going strawberry picking again today. We went last week with our mom's group and had a wonderful time. We got some great pictures. And we ate 8lbs of strawberries in 3 days! However, I didn't really want to go today. It was wet, looked like rain, and I just didn't want to load everyone up and go down there. But I had said we were going, so we did. They were so excited! As we got into the row, I noticed just how muddy it was. Very very muddy. I already know that my 1 year old is going to get nasty. I mean, I have to put him down to pick strawberries, so I resolve to this fate and put him down.

So, I'm picking and they kids are playing. The mud is creeping up their little legs like the kudzu on the trees in our back yard. By the time I have the bottom of the box flat red with strawberries my little man has mud from head to toe. And the girls have lost their shoes. Since I have no towels or changes of clothes I decide to cut my losses. I put the strawberries down and pick my muddy boy. I ask my fancy Nancy to bring the box of strawberries out of the field. I ask my other daughter to pick up the shoes, which seem to be glued to the ground and we slowly make our way out of the patch. Just as we get to the end, fancy Nancy slips, in the mud of course, and down she goes. Those hard picked strawberries scatter and she bursts into tears. I put the dirty boy down to comfort the dirty girl and attempt to retrieve our haul. So the dirty boy burst into tears.

There we are in a beautiful strawberry field, all covered in mud, 2 kids in tears and our berries sinking into oblivion. We were a hot mess. Slowly, I got the berries picked up, got fancy Nancy up and moving and get to the check out. I pay the $3.88 and ask for some plastic bags. The man smiles at my muddy little people. I apologize for stealing half the dirt from his farm, but he just grins and asks if he can take my berries to the car for me. Yes please! And thank you!

We finally get over to the van and I strip everyone to their skivvys, put all their mud coated clothes in a bag and buckle up my nearly naked babies. What a sight they must have been when we got home, marching out of the van and into the house, muddy and barely clothed! But it was such a relief to be home. I ushered them all into the tub where they soaked and played for a while. Then it was lunch and naps for the kids. I did laundry, dishes and started on supper. *sigh*

Monday madness. It's still here. Despite the chaotic craziness I'm thankful to have these days with my kids. One day they will look back and say "do you remember that time we went strawberry picking and got covered in mud? It was so much fun!" Hopefully they will have fond memories, though I may burst into tears! just kidding. kinda.

What was your Monday madness like?

Lindsey

Are You My Mother?

We have this children's book called, Are You My Mother, about a little bird that hatches while his mama bird is out gathering food. He looks around and doesn't see his mother, so he goes on a quest to find her. Along the way he meets all sorts of animals and machines and to each one he asks "are you my mother?" Eventually, he ends up back at his nest and is united with his mother.

Each of us are on a quest. It starts when we are born, this journey called life. It beings. It ends. And in the middle there is a whirlwind of living. And when each tiny life is brought forth, a Mother is born.

Thank you Lord for mothers.

Mother
Mom
Mama
Mommy
Momo
Ma

Mother's come in all different shapes, sizes, cultures, religions, and colors. We have different backgrounds and we view the world through different eyes. But our commonality is our bond and commitment to these adorable little people. And sometimes it's not the women who bore those precious babies that are the mothers. It's the women who love, nurture, protect, and teach these young ones.

To those women who step in to be a "mother" I thank you. While I chose to have children and love them, you chose to love someone else's children.

To the mother's of young children. I pray for you. I am right there with you and while I wouldn't trade it, sometimes I just make it through to naptime.

To the mother's of teenagers. God bless you! You have a tough job, preparing them for that independence that is just around the corner.

To my own dear mama.  A very special lady, who over the years has grown into a best friend. This sweet lady that rocked me at night, changed my diapers, gave me hugs and kisses, read to me. Oh, how I still love to be read to. She came to games and recitals and award ceremonies. She held my hand. She encouraged, loved, and nurtured me. She helped me grow in my faith. And she still helps me now. Thank you Mama. Thank you.

To some other great women that have "mothered" me.  My aunts, my grandma, my eighth grade English teacher (though I hope when she reads my blogs she doesn't grade them! lol), my sweet dance teacher, my youth pastor's wife- who is now my pastor's wife, my mother in law, and so many more. Thanks! Your input into my life helped make me the woman I am today.

To all the mothers. Thank you! Thank you for your love and sacrifice. Thank you for staying up late and getting up early. Thank you for cooking, cleaning, helping with homework, and doing laundry simultaneously. Thank you for loving.

Sadly, not all women are so fortunate to feel celebrated and honored on Mother's Day. It can bring heartache, pain, or shame to some women. Maybe she longs to be a mother and has no life mate. Maybe she's experiencing infertility or has had a miscarriage. Maybe she's waiting in the ups and downs of adoption. Maybe her own mother wasn't loving or kind. Maybe her mother passed away this year. Maybe she had an abortion and lives with regret and guilt. Lets not forget these women. Let's stand with them, let's gently hold their hands and their hearts and tell them they too are celebrated and loved.

Mother's Day seems to be when our identity and value is contingent upon weather we have kids or not. But this is just not true. If you are a christian, my friend, your identity and value and worth are steadfast. Jesus died on the cross because of His great love for you. Just as you are. You. He wants you to have peace in the midst of your storm. He wants you to feel loved and cared for and sought after. He wants you. So no matter what happens this Sunday. You are forgiven. You are a beloved daughter of the Most High King.

Now, please don't get me wrong. I love Mother's Day. Anytime I can get my husband to cook breakfast and get the kids ready for church I'm going to take it! I'm not crazy. But this year, let's celebrate the greatest Mother's Day gift, the gift of eternal life, through Jesus Christ.

Happy Mother's Day!

My friend (So long)

"We know exactly where you are, and you're gone [my friend]
Don't know exactly where you're coming from
You've gone away my friend
We know exactly where you are, and you're gone [my friend]
Don't know exactly where you're coming from
Have you gone astray?
So long my friend. " - DC Talk  


I did not grow up with a plethora of friends. Being a nerd/geek/weird kid does not make one inherently popular.  I did have some friends, a decent amount in early elementary school, but as I got older that number became less and less. A lot of the friends I did have were along the lines of relationships of convenience than a true friendship. For example, there were the friends in my neighborhoods growing up, that were friendships because we lived close together and none of us could drive, so that's what you got. There were friends that I ended up getting to know as we had several classes together and outside of class we generally didn't hang out. Then, as I got into high school their were work friends, most of you get that without further explanation on my part. There were also the friends that were friends in class when it was time for group work or to take a test, the same people who picked on me at other times.

After I graduated high school (class of 97) the few friends I had all went their own way to assorted colleges and jobs and one even got married. I can remember one occasion in particular in the fall of 97. I was riding home with a friend (or so I thought) and I started to unload on him all the burdens I was carrying. Before I could even get started good he tells me "No offense, but I don't want to hear it." The rest of the ride was in awkward silence. It would be a while before I would see him again.

Then a glorious thing happened. In February of 98 I came to know the Lord. How did that happen? When I needed it most in the summer of 97 the Lord sent me a friend who new the Lord. He is probably reading this, and he knows who he is.  As all my other relationships crumbled, this one strengthened. While we argued frequently (and would continue to for many years to come) those arguments never once threatened the friendship, they strengthened it instead. This man is still one of my closest friends and I am fortunate to know him. I love you brother. :-)

After coming to the Lord, the Lord saw fit to bless me with many friends. While we aren't as close as we once were due to time, distance, marriage and kids, when we do get to spend time together its as if no time has passed at all. It's a wonderful thing. Even now I count myself fortunate for all the friendships I have in my life. People that live up to this verse.

Proverbs 17:17 "A friend loves at all times"

 Thanks to the power of the internet those friends that have moved away, I can still keep up with. Email, Texting, Facebook, Google+, Instant messaging have all helped in this regard. Recently, I tried tracking down someone that God has put on my heart that I hadn't talked to in a while (years). It took a bit of Google Fu, but I finally found him on assorted social networking sites. What I proceeded to read broke my heart. 

Here was someone whom I once considered a true friend. Living a very ungodly lifestyle. This is someone I went to church with, to concerts with, someone I once talked to a daily basis about life, love, and the Holy Spirit. Someone who frequently encouraged me in my walk with Christ and would make time for me to rant about whatever was bothering me. However, that was early in our relationship later he started straying from the faith. He started pursuing his own path and not the one God has placed him on and I remember why the relationship ended. He had walked away. I had hoped that maybe time had healed his heart, but it appears to only have hardened it. I came to acknowledge today that my friend that I once knew is long gone. 

"Don't think we don't miss you
[We think about you every day]
We still love you anyway
[Love don't go away]" - DC Talk

This is not the first friend I've had walk away from the faith nor will it be the last. Time does not soften the pain, nor does my heart ache any less as I watch them flounder around trying to live on both sides of the fence depending on their mood. So I dedicate this song to you my friends, those that have long since strayed from the faith. That the Lord might call you and you would answer and return to your first love and I would see you again walking with the Lord.

"We'll see you someday
Wish you well my friend" - DC Talk

Glen

Happy Nurses Week!

My Grandma was a great lady. 
She was kind and loving. 
She was smart and strong and determined. 
She was a wife, mother, and sister.
She was a NURSE.

Vera May Moore White. 

Her name just speaks elegant strength to me. 

Vera went to nursing school while raising 5 children. My mom tells me how she would get up at 4am to study while the house was quiet. That is dedication. She graduated from Watts School of Nursing in Durham and worked at Person Memorial Hospital for many years. I can only imagine the lives she touched and helped to heal during her time there. She was a nurse.

She is why I became a nurse. I want to be like her.  When I was just a child my Granddaddy had open heart surgery and I would walk down to her house to help her change his bandages. My first wound care lesson. She was a nurse.

I am honored to have been able to follow in her foot steps and work in such a noble profession. I am grateful for the lessons learned, the joys celebrated, and the sorrows shared. 

Thank you nurses for all you do. Thank you for working long hours. Thank you for taking abuse from ungrateful patients. Thank you for showing compassion and uncompromised care even when your own life is falling apart. Thank you for holding the hands of dying patients. Thank you for comforting their families. Thank you for being competent and staying up to date with your education and skills. Thank you for giving smiles and stickers and popsicles to the little ones. Thank you for skipping lunch, staying over, and working extra shifts. Thank you for saving lives and families. Thank you for offering hope. Thank you for doing the dirty work. Thank you for being a nurse.

May God grant you peace and strength as you care for your patients today.

When You Don't Know What To Say?

Last night I learned that a childhood friend is in jail. She reached out to me through a family member and wanted me to write her a letter. While we haven't spoken in years there has always been something that draws me to her. Maybe it's that I knew her before, I was friends with her before, maybe I saw her potential before . . .before lots of bad decisions, that led to worse ones, that led to some very dark and difficult places.

What do I say to her? Do I tell her that I'm a stay at home mom, that I have 3 awesome adorable kids, that my husband works 2 jobs and just finished his Master's Degree? Do I tell her how I'm surrounded by great friends and family. And how I never have to worry about where my next meal is coming from or where I'm going to stay tonight? I mean really. She doesn't want to hear about my wonderful life. What do I say to her?

Well, here is what I said. I've changed some names and locations for privacy purposes.

Hi Lucy,

I have to be honest. I’m not really sure what to say here. It feels awkward to say “How are you?” I mean, I’m writing you a letter in jail. You’re probably like “Well, I’m in jail stupid, how do you think I am?”  So we’ll just skip the formalities and turn the clock back about 15 years.  You know back when we first became friends. Back when we were inseparable. Back when we went to the pool every hot summer day, we went to youth group and visited your dad for weeks on end. 

Do you remember sitting at the pool on that wooden picnic table under the shelter using the phone book to look up people’s phone numbers to call them and ask them to come to the pool? It kind of makes me feel old to write that, I mean we had to use phone books, and didn't have cell phones! Do you remember playing wall tag and shark and marco polo? Do you remember walking to the store for drinks and snacks?

Do you remember the time we road your four wheeler all the way to that old store and our parents were furious? Do you remember making “homemade” facials out of eggs? And staying up late watching movies, and eating popcorn and painting our nails? 

Do you remember visiting your dad and walking to that old ice cream shop? Oh and that cheese dip he used to make, yum! I think we ate cheese dip every night for weeks. And those oatmeal butterscotch cookies Susan made. It’s funny that I remember so much about the food, guess I’ve always had a thing for it.

Boy, things have changed since then, huh? We went two very different ways. I don’t know much about the world you’ve been in for years now. But from the outside looking in, I can see that it’s hard. Really hard. That it cuts deeply and breeds bitterness and desperation. And while I don’t know what you’ve done, I want you to know, it doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not here to judge you. I’m sure you’ve had enough of that, probably a lot from yourself. 

I’m just here to let you know that you have a friend, and I’m praying for you. You may not believe me, but Glen and I have prayed for you, specifically you, by name almost every night for 8 years now. I want you to know that no sin, no conviction, no abandonment, no selfishness is too great for God to forgive. He is willing to offer hope and salvation to all who confess, repent and believe in Him. And man is He good at changing lives! His love, His grace is sufficient for me and it is for you too Lucy. 1 Timothy 1:15 says that Jesus came to save the sinners. Not the pious, not the ones who have their life together, He came for the sinners, He came for me and for you friend.

So, I’m not sure what you were expecting to find in a letter from me, but I pray you find a path to hope and peace and forgiveness.

Lindsey