Would a Mariner sit idle if he heard the drowning cry,
Would a Doctor sit in comfort and let his patients die,
Would a fireman site idle, let men burn and lend no hand,
Can you sit at ease on Zion with the world around you damned...?
~Leonard Ravenhill
I was running behind for an appointment today and I was stuck behind a driver going a tad slow. Okay, let me rephrase that. They were driving the actual speed limit. I did not tailgate nor gesture to them to speed up, but inside my head I was bouncing up and down, whining, "C'monnnnnnnn!!"
On the way home I was behind another slower driver. This time I was not in a huge hurry and decided to stick behind them even though I could have easily gone around. I was probably still a little sheepish about my internal behavior earlier.
So, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it does it still make a sound? Well duh... of course it does. If a 33 year old mother of three yells at someone in her head yet remains perfectly civil outwardly, is it still a sin? Of course it is.
"Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law? Jesus said to him, You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself'. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.
Matt 22:36-40 (NKJ)
Even if they have the audacity to follow the posted speed limits.
This is my favorite Christmas song. Albeit not written for Christmas, isn't this what Christmas is really about? I love the classics like "Oh Holy Night" and "Silent Night" that sing of Christ's birth, but we tend to forget why he was born. Ultimately to die. For our sins.
In Christ alone my hope is found; He is my light, my strength, my song; This cornerstone, this solid ground, Firm through the fiercest drought and storm. What heights of love, what depths of peace, When fears are stilled, when strivings cease! My comforter, my all in all— Here in the love of Christ I stand.
In Christ alone, Who took on flesh, Fullness of God in helpless babe! This gift of love and righteousness, Scorned by the ones He came to save. Till on that cross as Jesus died, The wrath of God was satisfied; For ev'ry sin on Him was laid— Here in the death of Christ I live.
There in the ground His body lay, Light of the world by darkness slain; Then bursting forth in glorious day, Up from the grave He rose again! And as He stands in victory, Sin's curse has lost its grip on me; For I am His and He is mine— Bought with the precious blood of Christ.
No guilt in life, no fear in death— This is the pow'r of Christ in me; From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny. No pow'r of hell, no scheme of man, Can ever pluck me from His hand; Till He returns or calls me home— Here in the pow'r of Christ I'll stand.
My sweet, loving, charming three year old turned four recently and has been channeling a drunken sailor lately when she is frustrated; at least in the best way her four year old mind can.
This morning my angry little princess was apparently mad about some injustice her siblings had bestowed on her. So in as loud a voice and with as much indignation as she could muster, she angrily spat, "Stupid brother and big sister poop!" Complete with a raspberry for emphasis.
For the record, I just want to say that Mr. Clean and I keep a tidy mouth. We have never really been ones to curse nor does anyone we hang out with. "Poop" has become the most recent giggle word in our house apparently and whenever one of the kids say it, the other two break into fits of laughter while their parental units frown and scold them for using such silly language outside of the lavatory. It's interesting to see it used now in anger. Kind of goes back to that old saying, "It's not what you say, but how you say it".
Every once in a while a momma needs a minute. Far far away from any children, her own or others and to be able to think about anything but home and hearth. For me, I can grab that minute at our library. It is in our neighborhood, easy to walk (who am I kidding, it's cold here) drive to and can offer hours of escape or mere minutes based on the need and time restraint.
I needed a few minutes last night and Mr. Clean graciously allowed me to escape for a bit while he held down the fort. Until about ten minutes later when he raced into the library himself to track me down. Sans kids. All three kidlets were in the car and I was fortunately right by the entrance so Mr. Clean did not have to go far to find me. K.Z. had been "skating" in his socks on our foyer floor when he tripped and lacerated his toe pretty badly on the edge of a tile. Due to the amount of blood and the "ick" factor we thought it best to take him to the ER (I will spare you the details of the laceration itself, except to say it was super icky). Mr. Clean had bandaged him up at home (way to go Super Dad) so I never even had to see the cut until later at the hospital.
So... at 18:02 we registered at the ER, got our little beeper (think "Outback Steak House", but without free appetizers while you wait) and both settled down for a long winters nap. At 23:05, FIVE hours later we left with the world's most expensive band-aid. The laceration was on the verge on needing a stitch or two, but the doctor felt it would be alright to forgo that option, probably due to the panic that was caused simply by applying iodine to cleanse the wound.
The doc ordered an x-ray or two to make sure no damage had been done to the toe (um... except the huge cut?) and more than likely to make us feel like this visit was simply "not for naught" (I have always wanted to use that expression, but it felt too haughty... hey, there's another one!). I would have felt better if he had at least thrown in some Dermabond or a butterfly bandage, but he didn't. So home we went with a mummy wrapped foot and instructions to see our pediatrician within 2-4 days.
I need a momma minute. Maybe a trip to the library?
One of the few (very few) things I thought I would miss about not having my kids in "brick and mortar" school was the annual school picture. I am sure you remember the one to which I am referring. The funny picture in which your hair has been combed with that funky plastic comb seconds before, your eyes may possibly have been crossed and you have a fake plastic smile plastered on your face, all in front of that hypnotic blue background. Yet your mother gushed over it. Or cried from sheer embarrassment.
I had no need whatsoever to try and replace those things. Especially since the lowest priced package usually started at about $14,259.99. So when our homeschool group offered them, I initially had no interest. Then I got talked into it by some well meaning fellow homeschooler. So I reluctantly agreed and wrote my check.
To say that I was pleased with the results would be an understatement. I have decided that when I strike it rich, this photographer will be my personal press secretary and will follow my children around with her camera documenting their every move. Or at least take their school pictures next year...
Our semester has officially finished for the 2007 year and we are now on a three week vacation from school. Today was going to be one of those days that I would float around my beautifully clean home and stop to kiss my shiny clean children on the foreheads as I straighten the fresh flowers on the clutter free kitchen table. Then I woke up.
On Friday my house was fairly close to immaculate (except for my room, but that does not count 10 days before Christmas). My parents were coming into town for our Christmas celebration with them and I thought it would be nice to get it all done. Two days later you would never know it.
It absolutely blows me away that within 48 hours a house can implode. So I suppose it is time to start again. So that is what this week will have to be about. No floating and flowers and shiny children. Just vacuums and dusters and trash bags. Sigh...
Recently our anti-virus/anti-spyware/anti-wrinkle/anti-terrorist/yada-yada software expired. I knew it would happen, but when you buy it you rarely think about the next year when you will have to buy it again. So, it surprised me when it expired.
Frankly I have no desire to drop another $60 to replace it and have been grumbling about doing it for over a week now. Here's the cool part of the story...
Last year around tax time I was Googling coupon codes for Turbo Tax since I am ridiculously cheap and constantly try to find a way to save a buck, when I happened upon a tip in a Yahoo chat room. State Farm clients got to use turbo Tax for free. I was in heaven.
I followed the link and happily filed my return for nothing.I went back this year to see if they had posted the updated link to start my taxes (I have a problem, I know) and found that not only do they offer tax prep to their customers, they offer free McAfee anti-virus/anti-spyware. Cha-ching! Life is good; better when it's free!
Yesterday was bitter sweet. In the mail we officially received our license and welcome packet from the county officially declaring us foster parents with dotted "i"s and crossed "t"s. Soon after we received two phone calls within two hours of one another from our case worker with placements.
The first was for three siblings, which we simply cannot transport as our "mom-mobile" only seats seven and there are five of us already. We had to say no. Again. The next call was for four siblings that they had to break up as they could not find a family with enough approved room for all four (in our county there can only be a total of six children in the household, natural or foster). They asked us if we could take two sisters from the group.
We talked about it for as long as we could since time was of the essence, but a myriad of obstacles stood in the way. Mostly timing. We will be leaving in a week to go out of state for Christmas and that would have to be approved by either the natural parents or court ordered. It would also mean that we would miss an important court date for the girls.
Also, to call our Christmas hosts and say, "oh by the way we are bringing two more children with us", would have been alright and we could have adjusted, but would it have been fair (we did call and they were willing)?
These travel plans would have also rattled the girls a little more than necessary. "Here, meet the family you will be living with, adjust for a week and then they will whisk you far away from your state, city and family. Merry Christmas."
We said no. Again. It is heartbreaking, but I know that the timing is not up to us, it is all in the Lord's hands.
The other day my mother made the comment, "You're just an aunt, I am the grandmother".
The comment was not meant maliciously in anyway, it was in reference to a conversation we were having, but it struck a chord in my anyway. Personally I think titles are bogus. As a kid one of the biggest influences in my life and one of the people I loved the most was my mother's sister, my Aunt Sue. She never forgot a birthday, always made me feel special and I would spend various weekends and then weeks in the summer with her family. She was never the "warm and fuzzy" kind, but she was very transparent and you knew how she felt about you. I knew, and it made me feel warm and fuzzy.
I spent the majority of my life living very close to my extended family. When we moved to Pennsylvania 4 years ago I was thrust into an environment where I knew no one. The family I had grown so accustomed to seeing regularly were now over two hours away at the bare minimum. I had to make some new "family".
In the past few years I am blessed to say I have more "family" here than I ever had back home (not number wise, as I come from a huge extended family, but relationally). The people that have embraced me here I would desperately miss if we ever left. My family is now here.
So that brings me back to the original question. What makes a family? It is cliche-ish, I know, but since we have started this process of becoming foster parents it is more prominent in my mind. We may never be "mom and dad" to our foster kids, or we may be more of a mom and dad than we ever could imagine. But do those titles really matter? Or is the relationship what counts? I think it is the latter.
In the car today Xena announced that she needed a Band-aid because she is bleeding. Since all she had been doing for the past ten minutes was riding in the car strapped into a booster seat, I asked her what in the world happened.
"I scratched my hand and made a hole in it", she replied.
"Yeah! She did", confirmed K.Z.
"But you will not be able to see it Mom because it is tiny. I will show you where it is because I can see it 'cause I have tiny eyes."
Hmmm. If that logic were true, you'd think with my "big eyes" I would finally be able to see the big picture once and a while!
