The Single Mom.

I read the story of Abram in the Bible the other morning, and I smiled for all the single moms.  

God promised him and his wife (in their super super old age) that they would have as many children/grandchildren as the stars.  Sarai laughed and Abram believed.  They had no children, but those child rearing days were far far from over.

However, although Abram believed what God told him, he also felt impressed to take the timing (and the means of carrying out this promise) into his own hands. Don't we all?  I mean, come on. God didn't exactly specify when or who would have the baby, right? 

So what did Abram do?  He got his young slave girl pregnant.  That seemed more logical right? Well, that wasn't God's way or plan at all.  And although Hagar, the slave girl, has a baby boy named Ishamael, God still delivers his promise in the way He intended (God is far from logical!).

So just as God promised, Sarai (the old lady) has a boy named Isaac. Well, darn it.  If Abram was just patient, all would have been well!

Isn't that the truth.

But it wasn't well. Not one bit. Now we have a young mom Hagar and her son, Ishmael caught in the middle of Abram's mess. Fast forward. Now (because of the wife's desire, not Abram's) the young single mom is kicked out and left wandering in the desert alone and hungry with her son.

All you single moms out there, I'm sure you know exactly how Hagar was feeling. Questions such as:

How will we make it alone?

How could he abandon us like this??

This was never the life I imagined!

My child needs a father! What am I to do?!

And here is God's word to you:

When the water was gone she put the boy under one of the bushes and sat down about a bowshot away, for she thought, 'I cannot watch the boy die.' As she sat there she began to sob.  

God heard the boy crying and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven. He said to her, "What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there.  Lift the boy up and take him by the hand for I will make him into a great nation."

Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water.  She went and filled the skin with water and gave the boy a drink. God was with the boy as he grew up.  He lived in the desert and became an archer.

Do not be afraid, single parent.  God hears your cry.  

Lift your heart. 

Lift your life and lift your children up to Him.

And He will make them great!

But unlike Abram you must be persistently patient in all your prayers.  As you wait on God to supply all your needs, believe! For He who promises is faithful!

Born With A Mission.

This morning while having coffee with my husband, we talked about all the broken people hating Christmas this year.

I think of my high school friend who expected an engagement ring last week and instead he broke up with her. Really?! He left her and her 8 year old son weeping, in a blanket of tears. Yet, they have hope.

I think of the many mothers I know who are grieving spending Christmas without their precious sons. All having been lost tragically, at different times, ages baby to teens. Yet, they have hope.

I think of the mothers and wives who approached Jer and I this week for prayer, suffering the fact that their husband had recently left their family.  Yet, they have hope.

I think of the young mom who messaged me this week, brokenhearted having just suffered a miscarriage.  Yet, she has hope.

I think of the Brittany, a Northwestern College girl, who is suffering her first Christmas without her loving parents, and her loving brother and sister, who were tragically killed in a car accident outside of Sioux Falls this year. Can you imagine?

I can not. I just can't.  Yet, even she has hope.  Why do they all have hope?  Because they believe in the true meaning of the season.

Tears fill my eyes.  We think of Christmas as a time of warm-fuzzy's, sparkling cider, glowing fires and family and friends.  But honestly, it's just not. We live in a broken and dark world. A very hurting world.  And I feel that God whispered to my heart this morning, a word for the brokenhearted. 

I believe He said, 

Tell the world that Christmas is not about what they see. 

It's about what they don't see. 

Tell them it's for them. The broken and desperate.

Tell them at Christmas they were on my mind.

Tell them Christmas was for Easter.

Tell them Easter was to set the broken free....if they believe.

So here, I am. On a morning that I'm typically bustling, but instead trusting that God is speaking hope and restoration to a broken heart out there somewhere.

He wants you to know that it's all delusive. Surreal. Family, friends, sparking cider and fireplaces are wonderful.  And that's exactly what my own beautiful family will be doing tonight and the rest of the week. However, why do we say that it's not about the presents, Santa, or Elf on the Shelf, but instead about love, family and friends?

If Christmas is about family, then where does that leave Brittany when her entire family is killed? 

If Christmas is about family and friends, then where does that leave the homeless person or the orphan child?

No. 

Christmas is about Christ.

Christmas is about the Cross.

Christmas is about God's gift to the broken, hurting and lost.

Of course there is one very important disclaimer:  

A gift can only be given, when received.  

Receive His gift of salvation...and you will be free.

But Jesus came not to be served, but to serve and to give his life up as a ransom for many.

Mark 10:45

For God so loved the world that He gave His Only Son.  So that anyone who believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life. 

John 3:16

Seeing the Light.

Awhile back my husband shared that statistically depression rates have increased ever since Facebook and Pinterest were established. Everyone looks at the next person's life or talents and think they have it so much better. The truth is...that is a lie.

Let me tell ya, there's no reason to sink into depression after looking at any of this. Of course people will post the awesome things and hide the hell. I've been thinking about my posts and I try my best to always be encouraging.  There is enough negativity in this world....so why contribute to it? I thought about my posts - mainly about my kids and their awesome kid comments, like the latest one from Adalie:

"Momma, your eyes look like the sun."

Smiling, I ask "Why do you say that, silly?"

She responds, "Because you have lines here...and here...and here.....".

Awesome.

Or the time my son asked, while in McDonalds drive thru....

"Are we getting a  happy meal mom?"

"No."

"Seriously?! Does that mean we have to get a sad meal?!"

In the midst of everything I post, the truth is we have had one of the most broken years of our life.  But the funny part is only a few select people have truly known.  How is this for Mrs. Awesome "vomit everything to anyone who will listen" type woman? And in writing blogs like this: (see Dyson) I force my mind on positive and uplifting things.  Like a special kid who won't necessarily fit in with the football jocks and instead says things like this:

"Mom, I'm proud of the way God made me."

"Why buddy?"

"Well, Kasiah likes to dance.  Adalie likes to eat.  And I like...to invent things!"

Priceless.

P.S. Here is a follow-up to that post on Dyson for all of you who have been dying to see his finished product I'm sure...

Sorry for that bunny trail. What I'm getting at is this: No matter who's life you might be reading about I'm almost certain their life is no better than yours. Their talents are no better than yours. Everyone has a story. Absolutely everyone.

In this moment of being real, my story is this:

Up until very recently I have been deeply deeply broken. My husband as well. I have enough respect for him and myself to spare the details.  And things certainly were incomparable to the living nightmare back in 2006. But let's just put it this way, in February I received one horrific facebook message that was the very turning point in our entire marriage.  It was evil and dropped my every being to the floor in a heap of hot tears and anger. But it was the very thing that led Jer and I down the most beautiful road I could have ever imagined.

Although the years from 2010 - spring 2012 were what I'd call a season of renewal and restoration in our marriage, I was not ready to endure the brokenness once more.  But God never promised in scripture permanent restoration in renewal in anyone's life.  That would be called heaven.

While on earth, our lives will constantly be sprinkled with season's of brokenness and seasons of restoration.
Well, at least for those who are truly desiring to live a life God's called them to live, I should say.  The truth is, if you're not a threat to Satan, he won't be a threat to you.  It reminds me of my pastors words today:

"Suddenly Saul, who thought he knew everything was finding himself in a situation where he knew nothing.  It was only then that he became truly able to hear God's voice."

You see, I was quite comfy in my season of restoration.  And I thought I had everything figured out as to why my husband had the affairs in the past and struggled with pornography. I thought I was past so much of that. Had forgiven the girls, forgiven him. And although I had... what I didn't realize I had done was stuff a lot of pain out of fear of how he would react to what I was truly feeling.

This pain affected me in many ways that I didn't even realize. I also didn't have the opportunity to truly sift through the rocky soil of my heart during those years because I was too busy having several babies, miscarriages, job changes and house moves.  We were in fast forward mode. Certainly not enough time to truly truly dig.

And now here I was, 7 years later in a heap of tears, alone in my apartment, snow on the ground and three little children needing my attention.  Let's just say Mr.Movies and Pizza Hut delivery made a killing for a couple days as I was unable to function.

And I was mad. I was mat at God. I was mad that He was calling me to quietly keep this in my heart when I so badly wanted to feel supported.  And God said, "No. The church is needed for such a time as this, yes. But for you and Jeremy in this moment, I am saying no."

So I and Jeremy moved forward, as best as we could and God began (very slowly) to shed light on what we were truly truly dealing with.  We thought we knew what we had dealt with, but suddenly we found ourselves dealing with the truth.  And the truth hurts.  And the truth is setting us free.

Jeremy and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary on June 21st this past summer.  Reflecting back, I'll be honest.  We've had more days of hell than happiness.  Both him and I have dealt with many many hurts. Both him and I have stuffed over the years many many things.  But God has been providing a way out of all of this pain.  He has been recultivating the soil of our hearts, in which rocks had been buried for years were raised to the surface. It was so painful. So so painful.  But slowly we are being renewed day by day and finally in these past several weeks I am starting to see the light at the end of that dark and deep tunnel.  A tunnel filled with prayers in which we thought God would never ever answer.  A tunnel filled with unknowns, confusion, and emptiness.  A tunnel in which we were blind and all we could truly do was rely on God to hold our hands and lead us through the dark.

Last Saturday felt like a monumental turning point in our marriage. September 28th, 2013.  I'll never forget the day.  Our 10 year anniversary was past, and although a great weekend, it still felt like a dark weekend.  But now, things were getting brighter.

This particular morning I woke up greeted by coffee and a rose.  Jeremy had lined up the entire day to bless me. At each blessing was a rose that led me to the next blessing.  They consisted of getting my hair done, a massage, shopping with a friend, nails, a mini photo shoot of just the two of us, dinner downtown Sioux Falls, walking Falls Park and coming home.  And just when I thought it was over, he presented the 12th rose to me which revealed something I've been dreaming to do every since the day we returned from our Honeymoon in 2002:  A tropical trip this February (we're still deciding where).

It was as if Jeremy was asking, will you join me in a new tomorrow?

And I thought about everything that led up to that point and I wanted to scream, "Jeremy, we did it! We survived this last stretch!" And I thought about my friends, my sisters.  Those beautiful women in my life who made that day possible working behind the scenes, taking the kids, and so on.  It was like the perfect picture of what Paul wrote about to the believers in 1 Thesselonians 5:11 - Therefore encourage one another and build each other up. 

Girls....if you are reading this, I want you to know...you have no idea what that day truly meant to me.  It was a mark - a symbol - like a renewal of vows - declaring a new day.

I know overall, we will have many days of brokenness ahead. Heck, we don't even have teenagers yet.  However, we will enjoy feeling lavished today.

And for those of you who are feeling alone in that dark and lonely tunnel.  Be encouraged, for if you are seeking God it is impossible to remain where you are. Psalm 40:2-3 promises that He will lift you out of the mud and mire, whatever that might be.

Just hold on.
For happy days of restoration do await you.  As for Jeremy and I, we are finally once more enjoying the light.  :)

Update...a Rainbow of Hope.

A beautiful update on my previous blog, Asher Eugene. On Sunday, family and friends joyfully welcomed:

. 

Elijah James Allen

And my favorite....

Amen.

He Desires Me.

Years ago, my old pastor talked about Proverbs 22:6: Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.

One of the points he made about this scripture regarding "in the way he should go" was that it didn't say "in the way you think he should go." If you were a star football player, but your boy would rather play piano then as humbling as it may be, ditch the football practice and sign him up for piano.

So now we have Dyson.  

A 6 year old son whom I have bravely chosen to homeschool.  It's been the first week of school and I've already found I'm in for a ride. He is sooo far away from my "sit down and be studious" type 7 year old daughter.

Dyson is well....unique.  He'll play football. But he'd rather invent things. Or destroy things. For example, this is a bike inside of a small cardboard box (see below).  Yes, he took a screw driver and tore it apart. Spokes and all... and then declared "Mom, since we live in such a small space, now we have more room!"

He'll sit for...ummm...30 seconds to do his writing assignment, but then after about 3 letters, I've lost him.  I looked at Jeremy (my 32 year old Dyson) and I asked, "How in the world did you get through school?"  He responded, "I didn't. I slept through every class except shop, because I was so bored."

So, I'll have to be content with three letters, and work for the four tomorrow. I'm going to have to lean on God's wisdom on a daily (or hourly?) basis.  Speaking of hourly, tonight was an hour I thought I had off from the "school teacher" role.  I was wrong.

My husband was roofing and I'm sitting at home. I had spent the entire day doing laundry, preparing for school the next week, scrubbing toilets, grocery shopping, and doing everything that needed to get done so that I could enjoy a day of rest tomorrow. You get my drift.  It was now late and I had mentally checked out. I was ready to grab myself a Mr. Pibb, huge bowl of ice-cream and find something on T.V.  

The next thing I hear is Dyson storming in the house, anger on his face and arms crossed. "MOM! That did NOT go the way I had planned!" Welcome to reality.

He brought me out to the garage and I saw this: 

 Above is the box that was hanging from the string below.

 And below is the broom stick that was hitting the box that was hanging from the string above.

You got it folks. Dyson was playing "piñata," and dang it! It DID NOT GO THE WAY HE HAD PLANNED!!

The next thing I know he is asking the dreaded question, "How do you make a piñata, mom?"

Oh no.  Oh no oh no oh no. I knew what this meant. The last thing I wanted to do was jump on this teachable homeschool moment of an art class that had dropped right into my lap. Could have I said, "we'll figure it out next week, buddy."  Sure. But I knew in my heart now was the time.  With Dyson, especially with Dyson, you take advantage of any teachable moment you get.  Because the stars don't always align for him during normal "school hours".

I sooooo didn't want to.  The thought of the T.V. and an ice cold Mr. Pibb sounded sooooo much more fun.  But the next thing I know we are watching YouTube video's on how to make a piñata and I find myself making paper mache paste out of boiling water and flour, digging through his "this is trash, but Dyson will probably use it for something" bin to pull out a phone book (for it's pages) and a used balloon.

And here we go....

Piñata Making
PHASE 1: 

Yup. Jer came home, walked through the garage and said, "What the heck?"  You'll never know what good things will flow out of our weird son.  We're just along for the ride. I responded, "He is making a piñata. Don't touch it! It needs to dry overnight."

So here we are, encouraging Dyson to express his thoughts through his hands, and trusting it will glorify God in the end.  In this case, he plans to bring glory to God at his birthday party by celebrating himself - Psalm 139, right? Yup.

AND - Did you know that the piñata was created to represent evil? Sin is enticing and attractive, but the reward for those who beat the crap out of it (God vs. Satan) and not give up is an outpouring of gifts and blessings from above A.K.A. CANDY! BAM!

And just think, I could have chosen to gain 5 pounds through Mr. Pibb and ice cream instead of learning all of this.  Rock on.

Anyway, I'll post the end result here in a week or so. But right now he is 25% of the way done (75% ugly and 25% colorful).  After hours of gluing strips of construction paper on, he announced to me with great exhaustion, "Mom, I think I'm going to like my piñata just the way it is."

What he meant to say was, "This sucks and I quit." But leave it to Dyson to be positive.

I'm going to figure something out to help him finish strong. But until then, you'll just have to wait for the end result...and I'm positive you're just dying with excitement to see....

But for now when reflecting on all of this, I am reminded of how God works with me.  He is not just available during school hours. Unlike myself, he is waiting to jump on teachable moments and does not feel inconvenienced when they appear.

There is no bad timing on God's end.  I am so grateful I have a father who is waiting by my side to speak, teach and spend time with me at any given moment. He doesn't say, "just a minute." He doesn't cringe inside desiring some space. He doesn't even just tolerate me...

He desires me. And for that, I am grateful.

Oh How He Loves Me....

Every night Jer and I tuck the kids into bed and leave their night lights on. Tonight was no different.  Dyson excitedly jumped into bed to sleep in his new sleeping bag. He was so giddy about it. We prayed together and I asked him how his day went. As always (regardless if it was horrible or not) he responded, "I had a ggggREAT day mom!" I kissed and hugged him goodnight and walked out.

Following a hot bath, TV show with my husband and 40 minutes later, Jer goes to shut the kid's lamps off and then asks, "Where's Dyson?"  I pulled the covers over myself and responded, "I don't know. Check the closet."  

Dyson has this habit of thinking sleeping in the pitch dark in the closet is super cool.  No fear at all. After a few moments, Jer comes back, "He's not there."  That was odd. I jumped out of bed and walked to his room. The bed had already been stripped by Jeremy and pulled away from the wall. I looked underneath. Nothing. Checked his closet. Nothing. Fear immediately swept in as I looked at his windows, being triggered with my fear of abduction living on the main floor of the apartment complex only feet from the playgrounds.

I could hear Jeremy starting to panic as he turned on every light in the house on while shouting, "Dyson?!"  He had already frantically searched the girl's rooms, with no concern of waking them, as they slept deeply through it all.  I ran into their rooms and checked everywhere a second time. Nothing.

Now I was panicking. Kasiah sleepwalks. Not Dyson. He has never left his bed. Ever. This was completely unusual and out of character for him.  Now Jer and I were racing around the little space we had to cover, saying over and over, "This doesn't make sense!" and "I don't understand?!" Everywhere we looked, nothing.  We ran outside and around the house. Nothing. 

I felt the darkness set in and I imagined my six year old son, alone in the dark with some stranger who could careless about his precious beautiful life.  All I could see was his big eyes filling with tears and frozen with fear.

An eerie feeling set in. It was late at night, not in the middle of the day. Something about the still darkness made my stomach rot. We continued to look in the same places over and over, and still, nothing. By now, all I could think about was the precious time we were wasting and I grabbed my phone to call 911.  I wasn't panicked on the outside as much as I was on the inside. 

"911, What is your emergency?"  

I mustered out the sickening words, "My son....he's missing from his bed!"

"O.k., what is your address?"

I proceeded to calmly give all the information the dispatcher needed. He asked questions like, what color is his hair?  Tears filled my eyes and I started to cry. "He's California blonde... surfer like. He's known for his hair......"  My voice trailed off and I just wept.

"O.k. Maa'm. What was he wearing?"  Silence.  

I thought and thought and I couldn't remember. Every other night I knew what pajamas he was wearing. But this particular night he had gotten dressed and pulled up those covers before I even saw them.

Next, Jeremy raced past me, and asked, "Who are you talking to?" I responded ,"911". Completely panicked he yelled, "This can't be happening!"  

I knew his biggest fear was consuming him as well. I also knew he had sex slavery on his mind.  He always does. It's his holy discontent and has been for years.

I continued to stand in the garage and stay focused on the dispatchers questions, while looking out into the night, completely horrified. My son can not be out there dealing with this all alone. He just can't.

Suddenly, Jeremy screamed, "I FOUND HIM!" I looked into the house and saw Jeremy carrying him, shaggy hair, droopy eyed and confused, wearing (of course) his favorite pj's from Grandma, his Angry Bird pajamas. I quickly said to the dispatcher, "we found him....oh my gosh we found him...." and I don't remember much after that. I collapsed to the floor right there and found myself sobbing uncontrollably, a hot mess of every emotion imaginable.  I couldn't even move. I just cried and cried and cried.  

Finally when I was able to pick myself up off the floor, I made it into the kitchen, fell apart once more, and then Jer told me where he found him.  He had fallen asleep wedged between our entertainment center and lazy boy, a very small space for a six year old, and one I have never seen the kids even take note of. We didn't know whether to feel foolish, relieved, confused, or what....

I had a feeling inside that I knew what happened. He had snuck out of bed wanting to talk to me, but I was in the bath, so he hid until I was done, knowing he wasn't supposed to be out of bed....but not wanting to go back to bed.

Sure enough, that's exactly what happened.

Looking back, all I could think about was the fear, sickness and horrifying feeling I had of Dyson having to deal with whatever he was dealing with.... alone. It's one thing to have your child hurting while you're by his side comforting and guiding. But to not even be there. That was beyond what I could bear.

Then it hit me.  God must feel the same. It's not the hardship of the circumstances that concerns him. It's when I try to endure the pain without him. His comfort. His guidance. His arms wrapped tightly around me, bringing safety and peace in the midst of any storm.  It was this that pulled on my mommy heart-strings more than anything else. So, with that being said, I can't help but believe that the same thing pulls on my Father's heart strings as well.

Oh how he loves me. Oh how he loves me......

Bubble, Bubble....Bubble!

The other night I walked into Dyson's dimly lit room. It was bedtime and he was all snuggled in with his blankie. I looked at him wondering when the day would come that being soft and sensitive was no longer "cool."  I hoped never. But I also hoped soon before he gets the crap beat out of him on the playground. :)  Anyway, at the time he had propped up on his knees the large printed Children's Bible where he was intently looking at a picture of heaven.  These pictures were painted beautifully. Not cartoony.

"Mom, I want to go. When can we go, Mom? I want to go so bad." He was saying it as if he was whining. I hate whining. But this time I loved it. I gave him the biggest hug I could give and prayed, "Jesus, come quickly. We're all so ready to go."

But then my weary mind was filled with people who would suffer for eternity if my prayer was answered. The ones choosing to live lives on their own. Without him. Not to mention, the ones who have never even heard yet.

From my human perspective, gosh. What a hard decision God has. When does He bring his children home? Does his heart just churn at the very thought? Does He wrestle with this decision wanting no one to perish? (2 Peter 3:9). Yet, he is so crazy in love with his children that he just wants us home.

Anyway, regardless, all I know is that today I love, love my life. And I hate it all at the same time.
It is such an adventure. There are many days I want to blog about my heartache, pain and confusion. About frustration with God's calling for us. About the fact that he never seems to have "financial abundance" in his plan and sometimes it feels embarrassing and we wonder if people get annoyed by us.

There are days that I want to vent anger with having to reopen old wounds and discover wounds we didn't even realize we had. Having to till up old weathered soil to prepare for a new harvest. A new fruit. A new season. Yet, it feels like we're put on hold.  Much like the farmers around here, wanting to get into the fields, but outside circumstances like snow and freezing rain had put them on hold.

In the same way, God is saying to me, "Patience, my dear. Patience."

I want to blog about my insecurity of knowing Jer will be unemployed December 1st (he's an intern). With Christmas, it feels like such wonderful timing doesn't it? Yet, isn't that statement sad?  "Knowing" Jer is going to be unemployed?  Ya, maybe by his current company, but the truth is I don't know anything when it comes to God and his dealings with us.

I want to blog about my friends Liza and Mark and ask God why. Why did He allow their baby to have strokes and siezures and bleeding on the brain? I want to blog about the random precious sons here in Brandon, who have died... Luke, Asher, Caleb, Michael, Tim.  I want to blog about trafficking and poverty and addictions and affairs and messy desperate parenting and feeling as if the American Church isn't doing enough.

We all have our stories of heartache and brokenness. But today, in the midst of my own very deep season of hardship, I am just bubbling over with excitement (maybe over stupid stuff, really). The joy I feel living this adventurous life with God is so fun. He is just so fun...even with the unnecessary selfish things. Perhaps it's not even about the things that get me excited, as much as about the One providing these things.  Yeah, I think that's it.  I'll explain in a moment, but first...

I often cringe at email chains passed along regarding irritation toward the low-income community or cultures. The writings will read,"You're on Medicare, yet we see all your bling, name brand clothes and flatscreen TV's." O.k. I'm sure there is truth in that. I'm sure it's taken advantage of. But what about those who have stories you might not know about? I think of my pastor who shared, "If you're going to error, error on the side of grace...not judgment".  He continued, "You don't want to be facing Jesus someday when he brings up you're opinion of "so and so" only to find you were completely wrong."

This really resignated with me in many areas of my "judgemental jerk for Jesus way of living" in which God used Jeremy to smack that crap right out of me. It also brought to my mind those wonderfully crabby emails toward certain minority cultures in America.  Living in a "low-income" housing complex myself and having in the past been on medicare, these Facebook posts are sometimes hard for me to read.

Jer and I are not "proud" to have to ask others for help. It's very humbling. As you can imagine for a hardworking Iowa farm boy, the thought of living in a financed apartment, receiving medicare, scholarships, etc. is just not acceptable and down right makes him feel like a failure. 

But, talking specifically about our situation, it could be incredibly easy for anyone to misjudge our circumstances. There are days I want to get really crabby, as I mentioned earlier. But we choose to live this way, so I can't. I could put my kids in school like normal people do and get a job.  Except, that's just it. God has never called me to be normal. Ever. 

So instead of writing a crabby blog today, I'm going to write about how cool he is in the midst of our "financially humbling" life. It's one of those days that I feel so grateful and overcome with joy in His blessings. In the midst of the life that He has called us to live, God is still allowing us to enjoy it in ways that aren't needed... but just fun.

Bubbling With Blessing #1:
In the summertime, you might see us driving around and watch me nearly sink to the floor of my passenger seat hoping no one who knows me will notice. Why? Because behind our truck we are pulling this:

That's some nice bling, right? Truth: It's not our boat. But we certainly get to use it a lot! Bubble, bubble....bubble!

We shouldn't be able to have the opportunity to camp and boat and wakeboard like we do. Such a spendy hobby! But we do, and these days when it starts to warm up I find myself bubbling over with excitement to get on the water and watch our little buddy learn to wakeboard. With those thoughts comes even more bubbling of appreciation toward God, for we certainly don't deserve such a thing.

Bubbling With Blessing #2: 
A few weeks back, when I walked into my living room and found this:

Holy Crap. That is a freakishly large TV. 36 inch? 42?  I don't even know. Who cares. Yup, this would really fly with those people who are irritated about our government funded housing, I thought.

Truth? It was free.

The funny part: The family prayed about it and God told them to give it to us. I still laugh at that. I don't understand why God would lay our names on the hearts of someone giving away an enormous TV. We don't have cable and we don't watch sports. I'm sure it will all make sense someday.  Max and Ruby sure looks awesome though.

Bubbling With Blessing #3: 
My daughter has always been a girly girl. Not real into sports.  I played sports. I played volleyball, basketball, softball and even ran (if you could call it that) track.  Kasiah, she doesn't walk to the bathroom. She dances.  She doesn't sit on the couch, she does a front walkover onto it.  She doesn't come to supper, she cartwheels to supper.  And not to mention horses. Oh geez, that's another story that begins at the age of 2 when she screamed "No! Me do it!" because she wanted to ride the full-grown horse all by herself.  And she did. 

Yup, she did.

Dancing, gymnastics, and horses. Super affordable, right? Ha ha. If you keep up with my blog, you can see why I'm so overjoyed with God and his ways with us.  Bubbling.....  

First, she is blessed with a Grandma who loves horses and even has one...and soon two. She has also been blessed with scholarship opportunities to attend horse camp in Baltic, SD. Which is aaaamazing.

Second, in an earlier writing I explained how Kasiah wanted to be on dance team. I said, "I'm sorry sweetie, we can't afford it." Period. Sometime later a lady pulled me aside and said she wants to help fund Kasiah to be on team.  I starred at her speechless as tears streamed down my face. Totally unexpected. 

Several months later it's "dance picture" day. I order the bare minimum.  I receive the the full maximum. Included was a note. "I heard about God's work in your life and am inspired by your faith.... consider this a small token of thanks for touching my life."  I just stared, shocked.  Even in the unimportant things of nice photography, compared to world hunger, God shows up and says, "Ya, you didn't need these. But I found joy in giving them anyway."

So when I talk with people and they hear about Kasiah going to horse camp... or being on dance team, sometimes the response is, "Oh, my daughter would love that, but we certainly couldn't afford it."  (Insert a moment of stuttering). I simply don't even know how to respond.  The words of God's blessings for us try to pour out but just bubble over in a confusing mess. So I simply respond with something stupid that doesn't make any sense. And the blessings continue! 

Bubbling With Blessing #4:
Kasiah had her recital this past weekend and my horrible camera did exactly what it's great at. It took horrible pictures (user error I'm sure). Knowing I don't print pictures or scrapbook, but do everything digitally I thought to myself,"Wish I could get some great pictures for her album".  

Apparently God heard it as a prayer. Today I log onto Facebook and see this:

This was just one. There were more.

Seriously? 

Come to find out this professional photographer swore she was going to come, sit back and relax and watch her daughters dance.... but just couldn't help but shoot.  She wrote, "For some reason I ended up with several of Kasiah."

Bubble, bubble....BUBBLE!

Bubbling With Blessing #5:
Not a day goes by that I don't thank God for my life. I love my life.  I love that he called me to homeschool. I can list a million reasons why.  One being on a hot fall day, when all the kids are in class, and my son is done with his work, we have moments like these:

When the pools are closed for the year, the sprinkler park stays opened.  Yes, we take full advantage of it. Bubble, bubble...bubble.  Not to mention the ways God has blessed Dyson to do things he loves, like Taekwondo, when a normal family in our situation wouldn't be able to.

I could go on and on writing about the blessings of our family, our friends, our church, our community. They just continue to flow.  I mentioned blessings of unnecessary material things. But even though I am watching the blessings pour out all around me, the truth is the pain and suffering within me is the greatest blessing of all.

Like my good friend once told me, sometimes God might be holding your hand while walking alongside you in the journey.  Other times he might pick you up and hug you.  Desire the hugs, but know that the hand holding is what truly teaches you how to walk. 

Not sure if I'm walking or if I'm crawling. Regardless, I'm growing...and for what? You can't have the heart of Christ without having a broken heart. A broken heart is a thirsty heart. A thirsty heart is a moldable heart. A moldable heart...a new heart.

A heart that beats for the matters of the heart of Christ over the heart of flesh.

The afflicted. 

The wounded. 

The abused and the oppressed.  

Reaching these people with the hope of Christ so that they too can find blessings in their brokenness is truly God's desire for our lives. Matthew 25:31-46.

Finally, if there is one last thing God has taught me in the last several years it is this: Don't be critical of another.  We don't know their story.  At best, our perspective is probably.....wrong.

"I will lead the blind by a way they do not know. In paths they do not know I will guide them. I will make darkness into light before them.  And rugged places into plains. These are the things I will do... and I will not leave them undone."  

Isaiah 42:16