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Baby Moses Craft

This week our Bible story focus is on the story of baby Moses.
We made a craft to show baby Moses in a basket. I used ovals and emphasized this shape. One oval for the basket. One oval for the baby. And for my littles I just drew the baby but an older child might have fun drawing their own baby. Then we glued straw, dried craft grass and craft moss to create a “basket.” We talked about how Moses’ mommy must have felt tucking her baby into his basket. The kids wanted to make a “soft” basket for their baby. So sweet!

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Early Morning Treasures

I’ve had so many early early mornings this week. Mostly because my little girl calls “Mama!” loudly in pain from teeth that won’t cut fast enough, discomfort from a stuffy little nose and sometimes her wakefulness is a mystery I’m just too tired too solve.
I’ve been trying trying trying to see this as an opportunity to spend special time with my daughter instead of an interruption to my sleep, an inconvenience, shortening my quiet time with the Lord, an incident that throws a wrench in my ability to get breakfast on the table.
I thought about this as her tiny cheek was pressed against mine this morning, little wispy toddler hairs tickling my nose while we dozed on the couch. I sleepily drank her in. She won’t be 20 months old forever!
And then I read this in Desperate:
“To me, one of the beautiful graces of a strong woman is the ability to see the true value of her own life and the lives of her children, and to celebrate them every day, as Jesus did. It was Jesus Himself who gave the example of treasuring children; He took time out of His busy day to hold them, to tousle their hair, to bless them.”
-Sally Clarkson
After I put my baby girl back to bed, I thought about what a special gift our still-dark-outside cuddle time was. If she was sleeping I would have missed so many kisses, extra squeeze-y hugs and that sweet little face peering close into mine and breaking out in a sleepy smile. I prayfor Jesus’ eyes to see what treasures my children are!

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Broken Things

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Last October, my husband broke.

I mean his brain broke. And his body broke. And no one could tell us why. Or what exactly was wrong.

And I stood by, helpless. If you were take my sweet husband out for coffee, he would tell you all about his experience. And how it drew him closer to his Creator. And I promise you, your jaw would drop as he shared with such grace and faith. He’s just like that. But I confess to you that I don’t handle brokenness with dignity. When I patch things together but they just turn out ugly. Cracks showing. Glue and tape slapped on. But barely. When the God of the Universe approaches brokenness, He makes it new. Beautiful. Better than before it was broken. That is what He did for my family.

My husband came home after a normal day at work one day complaining of a low hum in his ears. He confessed kind of sheepishly that he had also had a small panic attack. He’s a laid back guy. A tough guy. Not like him. Said it just came on and he didn’t know why. And that was the beginning. The next day the hum was worse. The panic attacks increase in frequency and intensity. The vertigo begins. So dizzy he can’t walk. Several days of laying on the couch. Too anxious and dizzy to move.

What could be wrong? God, fix Him.

The first doctor’s appointment. Sent home with a bag full of meds that didn’t work. Blurred vision. Can’t go to work. Hyperventilating. Lumps under his armpits. Depression and fear keep him bound to the bed or couch. He excuses himself from the dinner table to sob in the bedroom. Day after day after day after day.

What’s wrong sweetheart? Is it me? I’ve put too much stress on him. Maybe if I was a better wife, he wouldn’t be breaking. God, how can I be better?

Doctor’s appointments. Two and three appointments a week. More pills. No answers. No difference. Pains in his side. Mysterious physical symptoms continue to appear. He speaks very little. When he does it doesn’t make sense. Paranoia sets in. Everyone is trying to get him. It’s time to take the guns out the house. His hands shake. He doesn’t remember things. Days become weeks.

Will this hell ever end? I’m angry. And feeling sorry for myself. I snap at the kids. I want to run away. Should I put together a resume? I’ll surely have to go back to work soon. God, how could you let this happen?

Counseling. Grief counseling. Marriage counseling. It’s PTSD. Or so they say. But I’m not sure. I feel like they don’t know why he’s breaking any more than I do. They say all of the physical symptoms are unrelated. Some get better and some stay the same. But then the freak accidents begin. He throws his back out. He breaks a tooth. Etc., etc., etc. The stack of bills and laundry is staggering. Months without an end in sight.

Every thought in my head is red. I squeeze my lips tight. I can’t breathe. No one understands. Screams threaten to seep out my nostrils, my ears, my eyes. I don’t want to talk to God anymore.

I collapse.

Where are you God?

Quiet. I anger-pray. But weakly. I’m so tired.

What do you want me to do????

Get up earlier. I hear it inside. But it doesn’t make sense. I’m desperate though.

God, I’m going to meet you in the morning. Are you going to show up???

The next morning, I wake at 6 am. I make myself coffee and eggs. They taste amazing! It’s been so long since I’ve had good food. I crack open the beautiful new Bible my husband bought me for Christmas and carefully turn the pages to the book of Job. The study I’m beginning is called “Abounding Hope.”

You showed up! My heart leaps.

I read. I highlight. I make notes in a pretty pink journal. I crawl onto the floor and place everything on the altar. I cry and tell Him everything. He already knows. He gives me peace.

You are the God who sees! I’ve missed you Father!

My husband does not get better. At first. But something in me changes. I turn over my un-fixables to my Father. I go through days making crafts with my children. I bake bread. I run. I snuggle up to a man who no longer resembles the one I married. I rub his furrowed brow and pray over him. We pray together. We look up scripture before we go to bed. And pray some more.

You go before me. You are with me. You are for me.

I didn’t cause this.

I can’t control it.

I can’t cure it.

But I can be a contributor. One who brings grace, love, kindness, joy. Or one who brings a dark cloud.

However, Bringing a life-giving contribution to the day requires some digging in to the Word and planning and consulting with a Savior.

Since then, I’ve made having my quiet time with my Maker a priority. I smear His Word on my body like war-paint. I praise Him. I sing. I listen. I ask for Him to draw me closer. I write out all the ways I can bless my family and others on a purple legal pad. All before anyone in my house is awake.

My husband is getting better!!! Our marriage is stronger. My faith is bigger. My husband’s faith is bigger. We will get through this.

You are the God who fixes broken things! Hallelujah!

 

 

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What I’m Reading: Desperate

Desperate: Hope For The Mom Who Needs To Breathe
by Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson

Well, I’m actually not still reading it. I just finished reading it and have a few videos left to watch before I send it off to a friend. It’s the kind of book that, if I was a bazillionaire, I’d buy boxes and boxes of this book to give out to every mommy I came in contact with. It’s that transformative.
Over the next couple of weeks I’ll go chapter by chapter and reflect on what I’ve learned. I think this is my way of hanging on. I’ve already started a new book that’s also really awesome but Desperate is like an old friend I don’t want to part ways with just yet. What better way than to write about it?

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Sweet Baby Quiet Time

This made my heart sing.

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Sweet Baby Girl love love loves to re-read our children’s devotional after we read it as a family at breakfast. My precious 17 month old climbed up into her stroller (one if her favorite spots to look at books) and intently thumbed through her little devotional for several minutes. Toddler quiet time with God.

Lord, may my children always delight in your Word! Teach me to model for them the joy I have spending time in your presence that they would chase after you too! Amen.

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Steadfast

O quiet time! Wee hours filled with scrambled eggs and sausage, too many cups of coffee, prayers, journaling, savoring the Word…oh, how I love my morning quiet time with God!!!

This morning I read Psalm 17: 6-9.

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 In verse 7, it refers to God’s “steadfast love.” Now I know what “steadfast” means but sometimes it is powerful to look up a word. Get it’s full meaning. Here’s what I found:
Constant.
Loyal.
Stable.
Firm.
Steady.
Immovable.
This is the God that parts waters. The God who gives new names. The God who hung the rainbow in the sky. The God who saved me from my childhood. The God who protects me from my adversaries: fear, pride, resentment. They are no match for the Immovable.

Holy Father, keep me as the apple of your eye. Hide me in the shadow of your wings from fear, pride and resentment. Cover me with faith, humility and acceptance as I go out from the comfort of my quiet time to serve you in this world. Amen.

 

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Some Mornings…

Some mornings I…

Wake up late

Forget to brush my teeth

Hear kids crying upstairs

Don’t get my quiet time with God

Desperately need His grace

And then I read this with my kids from their devotional:

Verse

And I rest in His peace. That’s all I really needed anyway. Hearts.