I love VBS!

There are many things in this world that I love:  the smell of coffee, crunchy apples, freshly baked bread, the sound of voices blending in harmony while singing praise to Jesus and connecting with others. 

VBS is also on my short list of things I love.  Always have.  It's a time we open the doors to the church and welcome everyone in.  It's a week-long party, Baptist style.

My boys love it.  They love the music, the games, the crafts, the bible stories and fun with their friends.  They love the teenagers that are silly and fun.  They love the decorations all around the church.  It's so neat to watch them so fully enjoy church.

As a grown-up, I'm also really enjoying VBS.  Above is a picture of me and my friend, Chris, on crazy hair night.  Her wig was fantastic!  At the party store I opted for a more subdued option of a headband with crazy blue hair springing up.  My third son was very impressed with my crazy hair as were the kids I taught Missions to.

I love teaching.  Even more than that, I love sharing my passions in the hope of igniting the passions of others.  I have always had a heart for missions.  This world is full of such hurt, pain and disappointment.  The hope is Jesus Christ.  I remember back when I was a youth my youth minister nicknamed me Paul because I felt such a burden to share God's love with others.

This week, I get to share my passion with these kids.  I love it.  The lesson I put together is about 2 missionary families and how they boldly share God's love with those around them.  It's tricky sharing this because I know most of the kids at VBS have heard about Jesus' love, but many haven't.  The message to teach is that they are called to share God's love and the hope of Jesus, too.  I'm depending on the Holy Spirit to guide me as I teach each of these groups.

Last night with one group, I felt the nudging of the Holy Spirit to spend more time on what it means to be like Paul--change from being someone who doesn't know the love of Christ to someone who confesses his sin and accepts God's love in his life.  I had that beautiful moment as a teacher when I saw light bulbs come on in their eyes when they understood what I was talking about.  Very, very cool.

VBS is lots of work.  My boys are worn out from so many nights in a row out past their bedtime.  I'm tired, too.  But as a church, we are joining together to make something really fantastic:  an opportunity for kids to have a great experience in church.  A time of fun, laughter and excitement while they learn about Jesus' love for them.

Lots of fish and legos

J,D,Aaron & Walt fishing

Lego Camp--Michelle, Ms Linn, Walt & John

Last Sunday, our family went fishing at our pond on the farm.  John really got casting down and loved doing it.  Aaron and I took turns casting for David and Walt.  Aaron found a new kind of lure that the fish were crazy about.  As soon as we would cast, they would bite.  We caught 19 in all.  We even through a few back.  The boys loved the thrill of catching the fish, but their size was nothing to sing about.  When Aaron fileted them, all 19 produced all of 14 oz of meat. 

It was a great way to spend Father's Day.  We had such a great time we decided to make it a family tradition.

Lego Camp has gone on this week.  Walt and John have liked it, but they're not crazy about it.  There are 12 kids in the class, ages 4-7.  One girl.  Each day they're given a kit that makes an object.  The first kit made a carousel and somehow my boys made it into a windmill. 

Ms Linn, the teacher, is wonderful.  She's sweet, caring and very patient with the kids.  I think Walt is in love with her.  She commented that my boys are very polite and caring of each other.  No comment about their skill with the actual task at hand.

The beauty of the frame

For the past few days, I've been kid-free.  I called my fabulous mother-in-law on Sunday, hoping that her schedule would allow for her to have some time with my boys so I could have a break.  Our trip to the beach was great, but it left me worn out.  The boys needed a break from me, too.  Happily, she was available and they've had a great time at Camp Nana.  It's been wonderful for me.

I've been able to take a slower pace than normal and just be.  Being is not something I'm good at, but I'm proud to say I'm getting better.  I've played the piano and sung favorite songs--loudly.  I play the piano sometimes with my boys, but I allow them to play also which I think is neat, except that what they create is a far cry from music that soothes my soul.  I've read books and magazine articles, I've shopped, I got a hair cut, I renewed my driver's license, I did an errand that has literally been on my to do list since June 2012, I got a great new pear of jeans, had my oil changed, enjoyed cooking an omelete and I've watched plenty of my favorite shows.

It's been good.  No, great.  I've also had amazing quiet times.  I want to share a lovely illustration I read in my book I'm currently studying:  Calm My Anxious Heart by Linda Dillow.  The book is one I've been meaning to read for a few years and I'm so glad I decided to do it now.

The chapter has to do with being content with the way God made you.  She uses Psalm 139 as her basis.  I love that chapter.  She encourages us to think of ourselves as a painting, hanging on the wall for the world to see.  The frame is what we start with--our physical characteristics, our personality, gifts and abilities.  What's inside the frame is who we are today.  God created the background and the brushstrokes show how God is working in you.  If you yield to his artistry, Christ's character will be reflected.

The question that arises from this beautiful illustration is this:  when someone sees the masterpiece that God made in me, what do they see?  Christ's character or frantic activity?  Do I paint with the color of character or accomplishment?  Do I focus so much on the frame (wanting to change myself) that I miss out on what's in the portrait?

Army Wives is a show I watched for one season.  It was interesting, but I quickly figured out that it was going deep into waters I choose to not let my thought life swim in--adultry, namely.  But I do remember one of the characters also making reference to a portrait.  She said her husband was the frame that supported her while she was free to show her best self in the portrait.  At the time, I was newly married and thought that mental image was great.  As an illustration of marriage, I still think it has validity.

However, Dillow's illustration is biblical and liberating.  I've already arrived.  I don't have to be a better mom with perfectly behaved kids, every meal nutritional, have a sparkling home and always something witty and charming to say.  I can just be me.  Quirky, deep thinking, softed-hearted me.  God created my frame that way.  He bedazzles some, others are rustic and made of rought iron while still others are not ones you see on the shelves at Michael's.  But He made them all.  The key to finding contment is accepting the frame God chose when He created me, celebrating it and using it for His glory.  My frame is very different than my boys' and my husband's.  Very different than my family.  Similar to my sister-in-law, but still unique.  Unique is good.

Today I go for my boys.  I'm ready to see their sweet faces again.  I'm recharged, ready to start swim lessons with them next week.  It was really good to take a deep breath and have some down time.  God used this time to pat me on the back and remind me that regardless of the season I'm in, He created me just the way He wanted and He thinks I'm wonderful.

Adoption

As a baby, I was adopted.  I remember when my mom told me--I was 5, we were driving down the road in the family pick-up.  Dad was driving, my brother, Mom and I were all riding along.  I had seen something on the news that said children who are breastfed were healthier. 

Being not athletically gifted, I was one of the slowest runners in PE.  I was also one of the youngest in my class--an August birthday--so that probably had something to do with it as well.  Anyway, I made the connection that perhaps I ran slowly because I hadn't been breastfed.  I doubt I even knew what that meant. 

I asked Mom and she told me I had been adopted as a baby so no, she hadn't breastfed me.

I've always known I was adopted.  I've always understood that my birth mother did it because she loved me and knew she couldn't provide the best life for me.  She did it as a gift of love.

There came a time when I was about 14 that I realized that I felt like I had been rejected by her and because of it, I was unworthy of love.  When I realized that, I made the choice to give that insecurity to God and let Him fill that hole in my heart.  I forgave my birth mother (in my heart) and chose to accept God's full, complete love for me.

Wow.  That was 20 years ago now.  I had been warned that when I had children I could possibly have to deal with "adoption stuff" again.  I think if I would have had girls it may have been more of an issue.  But I still struggle from time to time.

I read a book last summer that says many Christians are like the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son.  We look down our noses on others who don't follow the rules or measure up to our standard.  We work to achieve salvation.  By doing so, we miss the whole point of Jesus:  he came to earth to save us.  Instead of accepting his free gift, we choose legalism.

I grew up trying to prove I was good enough.  As an adult, I accept that I'll never be good enough.  I can only give my best daily to follow Jesus so that His light can shine through me for others to see.

All this was stirred up by my silly Australian soap opera I watch.  The current storyline is that the heroine had a baby at 15.  (Ironically, about the age of my birth mother) and her dad forced her to give the baby to her sister to raise as her own.

Now, the girl is 14 and ticked that this secret was kept from her.  The thing that jarred me was the even as a child, I understood that my birth mother loved me more than herself by giving me away.  She made a very hard choice, and did it as a gift of love to me.  The teen on the show was just very mad that her aunt hadn't kept her. 

I realize that drama has to happen for good TV, but it made me wonder why it's so deep inside me that adoption was the best choice for me.  I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I was raised that way.  In my parents' eyes, financial security and godly values = a good home.  My birth mother, for whatever reason, chose to provide those things for me by choosing another family for me.

Mine was a closed adoption.  I know very little and what I do know was told to my parents by someone at the adoption agency.  As far as I know they never met her.  I know she is red headed, had a Czech descent and was "curvy."   She was short.  My birth father signed the paperwork, so we know he was in the picture.  I have the impression they were still in high school.  And she chose my parents for me.

I promised my Mom back in high school I wouldn't go about finding my birth mother.  For us to meet up, I would have to pursue her and she would also have to pursue me.  In many ways, it's easier not knowing.  I have a full life, filled with a family who loves me.  By marrying into Aaron's family, I have found such joy.  His family is wonderful and they accept me just as I am.  I always wanted a sister and in my sister-in-law, my wish came true.  Also, my church family is an amazing extended family to me that provides many fulfilling female relationships.

But sometimes I wonder.  I grew up fantasizing that Reba was my mom.  I later found out she's way too tall and not the right age.  I've heard this "Cinderella complex" is common for adopted kids.  Now I wonder if she's like me.  That would be nice.

More than anything else, I wish I could say thanks.  Almost 35 years ago she chose to provide for me in the best way she could.  That's an amazing thing.  May the Lord bless her richly for her decision and may He grant her His peace that I turned out just fine.

Meerkat peer pressure

I haven't posted for a while.  The main reason is that I was out of town for 10 days with my parents and kids.  While on vacation, I unplugged except for a few texts to friends and my husband who didn't go on the vacation.

We've been home for 6 days now and I think I'm going through emotional post-traumatic stress disorder.  I mean no insult to soldiers or first responders who actual deal with this, but dude, being in a fish bowl with my very active little boys while my parents are watching just wears me out.

I have tons of fantastic memories of the trip.  We went to the beach and I got to see the wonder in my boys' eyes as they took in the vastness of God's amazing creation:  the ocean.  Wow.  I thought that moment would be neat, but it stands as one of my very favorite mom moments.

A quick side note--yesterday boy #2 asked what threatened means.  I explained briefly.  I asked "What do we do when we feel threatened?"  #2:  "Get out your gun and shoot."  I'm sure the NRA would be proud that Aaron has taught them so well.  I told him that's an option at certain times but not appropriate at others.  I asked specifically what I do when I'm threatened.  #1 melted my heart with "Mommy, you pray."  Wow.  That was one of those moments in time when I can see that the investment of my time and energy shaping my boys. 

Back to emotional coming-down.  On the trip, I felt this pressure to be "on" all the time, even sleeping in the same room as my boys, which I've never done before.  They still got up every morning at 5:30.  Yuck.  At home, I'm at peace with them getting up because they've figured out to play with each other and I've learned to do my quiet time and tune them out.  Not ideal, but it works relatively well. 

Not so in a hotel.  Suffice it to say I felt like I was keeping a lid on a tornado for much of the time of the trip.  My sweet parents did all they could to help out, but #2 became very clingy to me on the way back home which drove me crazy.

Now we're back home and I just want to draw a line around myself and not let anyone in.  I crave time alone.  I also would really like to spend time with friends but I just don't have the extra energy for their kids.  I'm just worn out of little people right now.

I've learned through the years that if I don't have the boys on a schedule I go crazy.  Left to their own devices too long they got really rough, loud and annoy me terribly.  Last week I tried to be all cool and relaxed, "enjoying summer."  What a joke!  I was not a happy woman.

By Thursday afternoon I knew something had to give.  A trip to the zoo seemed to be a perfect solution.  We met up with a friend there and had a nice time, except the boys kept getting upset we couldn't do everything we saw, like ride the carosel, the train, climb the climbing wall, etc.  They were way more enthusiastic about all of those things than the amazing animals. Their emotional outbursts wore me out as did the walking carrying a heavy bag.

I was really considering getting a season pass to the zoo.  However, after we got home, I thought through why I wanted to spend this very large quantity of money which we hadn't even budgeted.  Many of my friends have done it.  On Mondays in June, season pass holders can get in at 9 instead of 10 and do a special meerkat something.  I thought through this for a moment.  My boys don't care about meerkats and I don't really care to stoke that particular fire in them.  For it to be a savings, I have to take the boys 3 times in the next year.  It's been over a year since the last time I took them and we've lived happily.

So, here's the golden nugget:  instead of giving the zoo lots of money and feeling obligated to go numerous times this summer, I'm going to make a "home day" schedule for us.  The schedule will be loose, but it will include structured time, free time and I'll intentionally schedule things that I really enjoy, like reading Hank the Cowdog chapters and playing the piano.

When I'm not intentional, I find that I don't enjoy my days because my boys enjoy things that I really don't care for.  I get drained quickly and become really grouchy.  Yuck.  But this week I started working through Calm My Anxious Heart and it focused a lot on contentment.  The Lord promises that He gave me the cup big enough for the portion that comes my way.  Then why is it so hard to feel content?

I get that in a global sense my life is a peace of cake.  I have strong, smart, healthy boys.  We have plenty to eat, a lovely home and a comfortable lifestyle.  And yet I want to tear my hair out regularly.  How can that be?  This is just my thinking, but I think that by being so "comfortable" instead of concentrating on actual problems, like having enough food to feed our families, keeping clothes clean by exerting lots of manual labor, being concerned for the safety of our families, we fill that vacuum by being discontent.

It's time to fill the vacuum with good things.  Today I'm climbing out of my grumpy pit and prayerfully making a plan for the upcoming week that will include things that will honor God and be positive.