tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66191116913223812012024-02-07T22:19:25.272-08:00feathering this nestMeganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-16782522558758945052014-05-13T19:00:00.000-07:002014-05-13T19:00:08.720-07:00The year God asked us to do something we said we'd never do.I haven't blogged in so long. I'm not even sure I remember how to do it. But, God is rearranging our year and it's time we share about it.<br />
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In the very early days of dating, we had a vision for our lives. One part of this vision included international adoption. We had multiple discussions about it, and determined that yes indeed, this was our plan. Of course we had a passion for orphans, but this desire reached deeper than rescuing someone. We felt that this was just a part of God's plan to grow our family. To those outside of the adoption arena, it really isn't any different. Maybe just a slight different way of explaining it. Either you know <i>someone</i> out there needs you, or you know that <i>your</i> child is out there and just needs to be brought home. I'd say for the first few years of our marriage, we talked about adoption with the emphasis on filling a need. Within the past 2 years, God has impressed on us that "our" child is out there, and needs to be brought home. Emotionally, those are two very different callings. One says "be ready to pursue this whenever the time is right". The other says "we need to find a way to bring our child home". Through all of this, one big thing we agreed on during years and years of discussions was that we were NOT interested in the foster system. "You never know what you're getting!" "I don't want the county in my home, telling me what I can and cannot do!" "I won't live my life scared to death that I'll run into someone's biological mother in Target!" These things were all said. By me. And so we did what any normal married couple would do. We started looking at international agencies. We started to choose a country. We looked at time frames, and requirements. We had lengthy talks with the kids about what to expect. We decided this would be the year we would take the first step in pursuing this calling. Approximately a week before Christmas, 2013, I was driving alone in the car. I was heading to Target to pick up a few last minute gifts and I had a very strong feeling that I needed to turn off the radio and drive in silence. And so I did. What happened next was surreal and out of this world and so overwhelmingly straight from God that I'm not even sure I know how to explain it. But within a 20 second period of time, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that we were supposed to be foster parents. I was shocked, and couldn't think straight, and kept saying "what!? Are You sure God? That was one of those things we swore we'd never do!" The next hour that I spent walking through Target is a blur. I do remember praying for Seth. I prayed that God would prepare his heart to hear what I needed to tell him when I got home. I was scared that he would freak out, or think I was weird to admit I had a supernatural experience while driving to the store, or say that he wasn't willing to be a part of the foster system. When we did talk about it later that night, his only response was "well okay then! let's do it!" :) I think when you first agree on something, you enter a honeymoon phase of that new idea. Everything was rosey and sunshiney and seemed so perfect. We could grow our family without forking out tens of thousands of dollars! Hurray! And we didn't have to travel! (I HATE traveling and it scares me out of my mind) It seemed like we were definitely getting off easy, that's for sure. We certainly didn't tell any family members, for fear that they would try to talk us out of it. Actually I think we were so fearful of judgment from just about everyone that we kept it quiet for a few months. I started doing some research, figured out who I needed to talk to, and what the process would be like. We sort of hung out in the research phase until March, and that's when we started contacting our county. It has moved VERY quickly from there. We spent April writing our autobiographies, having physicals done, and filling out a massive stack of paperwork. We have attended three lengthy classes, and have completed our home study. We've made decisions on what age groups we're open to, and the amount of disabilities we are okay with taking care of on a daily basis. Our eyes have been opened VERY widely to what is really going on in our very own county. It's sickening and heart breaking and wrong. We live in a state that is ALL for reunification. From a biological mom's point of view, that's wonderful! From a foster mom's point of view, you are really just preparing yourself for an emotional roller coaster. When the county asks you to take a child, they are asking that you love that child like it's your very own. It's 24/7, physical and emotional and psychological care. In the state of PA, you can have a foster child for as a long as TWO YEARS and then the judge can still rule to reunite that child with a biological family member. Two years of bonding and care and adjusting to your new family is a long time. And then you let that child go back to live a normal life with their own family again. That is tough. We've had many "I can't do this" moments. We are scared out of our minds. I feel like God has commanded us to jump off a cliff. I keep screaming "But God!?! Do you have any idea how risky and dangerous this is!? What, are You CRAZY!?!" And yet He keeps reminding us that we can't see the bigger picture. We don't know how this will work out, and we're not supposed to. I don't want to admit it, but in our American Christian culture, we are either viewed as saints, or idiots. "Oh that's wonderful! You guys are so selfless. How incredible this is that you are willing to do this!" Or on the contrary: "really? aren't you afraid they are going to pick up a kitchen knife and murder you while you sleep? Why would you want to mess up your perfectly organized little family?" :) Early on in this journey, we received a note in the mail from a somewhat new friend. The note said "we want you to know we are covering you in prayer during this whole process. We are your prayer partners through this." I broke down and cried. No advice, no feedback, no unearned praise, and no judgment. Just genuine support through prayer. That means the world. If you think we are happily skipping through this journey, anxious to hold our newest little bundle of joy, you are wrong. We are terrified. We know this is risky, and probably dangerous. We know there will be furious biological parents involved, and a million case workers and attorneys and judges. There will be many, many tears. But at the end of the day, I come back to this: if the roles were reversed, I would want someone to do it for my kids. And so, we are nearing the end of the process. By the end of the month, we should be legally licensed to accept foster children. We have absolutely NO idea what we are getting, so there is absolutely NO way for us to prepare. Do we buy extra bunk beds, or extra cribs? Stock up on diapers, or underwear? Will we get someone in June? July? August? December? They told us sometimes the kids are walking through your door while the ink of your signature is still wet. Other times you could be licensed for 4 months before you ever receive a phone call. This whole "willing to wait" and "trying to get ready" thing is for the birds. The whole foster system is so broken, and the caseworkers are the first to admit it. But God has asked us to open our home, and our hearts, and be willing to love. And so I sit here, wanting to move around furniture and paint and add extra shelves in the closets, because emotionally I am grasping for a way to prepare. Mentally, I know there is no way to prepare for what is about to come. It's like walking blindfolded. But sometimes that's what God asks. The other day Caden yelled from his bedroom, "Mom! Can we make sure the foster kid is old enough to help clean up our room???" LOL Sometimes all you need is some comic relief. :)Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-33624001242995482482012-12-09T19:02:00.001-08:002012-12-09T19:02:02.769-08:00Fruit RollupsI didn't take a single picture. I'm sorry. Even Seth asked if I was documenting it. I guess I expected this recipe to fail. Most would call these "fruit leathers", and that title brings to mind a semi sweet "snack" that a weird pine cone eater family would eat. I didn't really think we'd like them. So I didn't take pictures. It was just my whim of the day. I had 3 lbs of frozen strawberries and an entire day at home, so I made them. What resulted was a new addiction. For all 5 of us. These were better than good. Tremendous. And guilt free. Planning my 1/2 acre strawberry patch in the very back of our property so I can make these every week. :)<br />
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You will need:<br />
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3 lbs fresh or frozen berries.<br />
2 T lemon juice<br />
1/2 C honey<br />
1 C applesauce<br />
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Dump the lemon juice and the berries in a pot over medium heat. Cook, while stirring, until the fruit is completely soft. Pass the fruit through a food mill or sieve to remove skins (if doing blueberries) and/or seeds (for strawberries). <i> I didn't do this part because quite frankly I didn't want to have to wash my sieve. Lazy bones. So we spent 2 days picking strawberry seeds out of our teeth. :)</i><br />
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Add the honey and applesauce and stir thoroughly.<br />
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Line baking sheets or large pans with parchment paper and pour the puree onto them. The thinner your layer is the quicker it will dehydrate. Mine were a little thinner than a store-bought fruit rollup.<br />
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Set your oven at its lowest possible temperature (165 is ideal) for 12 - 20 hours or until dry (but somewhat sticky to the touch).<br />
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Take out of the oven, cut into strips, roll them up, and snack away! :)<br />
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This recipe came from Alana Chernila's book "The Homemade Pantry".<br />
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The next time I do it I'll make a double batch. We went through them too quickly and I would've loved to have some to store. Also, I would leave my oven door open the entire time. The recipe doesn't call for it, but you need somewhere for the moisture to escape while they are drying in the heat. I kept my door closed for about 10 hours and they weren't any drier than when I first put them in there. Mr. Wonderful suggested opening the door and they were done within 2 hours :)<br />
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They were OHHHHHHH so good. Very sweet and sticky and not at all pine cone eater-ish. :)Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-44650879872670022822012-12-03T09:08:00.003-08:002012-12-03T09:08:52.602-08:00On my 29th...I thought it would be fun to list 29 quirky facts about myself. So here goes....<br />
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1. I am extremely self conscious and am scared to death of growing older.<br />
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2. I like watching my husband work a chainsaw.<br />
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3. I absolutely love homeschooling.<br />
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4. I prefer my own coffee over Starbucks.<br />
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5. I have a serious crush on our woodstove.<br />
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6. When I was little my toes were so crooked the doctor suggested breaking them so they could grow straight. Thankfully my mother let them alone and they straightened out on their own.<br />
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7. I wanted to be the woman who birthed her babies at home in the tub.<br />
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8. I am a physical touch person. I hate giving it, but love receiving it. I ask for a foot rub every night.<br />
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9. I met my very closest friends through my husband.<br />
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10. In 6 1/2 years of parenthood, we've only spent 1 night away from the kids.<br />
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11. I want to be a farmer when I grow up. :)<br />
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12. I dream of moving back to Potter County and living off the land.<br />
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13. I struggle with anxiety.<br />
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14. I'm thankful for a husband who puts up with a wife who wakes up in the middle of the night scared to death and shaking like a leaf for no apparent reason.<br />
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15. I'm addicted to sugar.<br />
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16. I love confrontation. Let's sit face to face, scream and cry, and get everything out in the open.<br />
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17. I don't feel comfortable around people when I know there's an entire barrel of unresolved issues standing between us.<br />
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18. I trust God with eternity, but struggle trusting Him with my kids.<br />
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19. I hate politics.<br />
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20. My husband and I have no secrets. Seriously.<br />
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21. My ideal Christmas wish list consists of a tub of coconut oil, picnic table, 6 chickens, 3 goats, and 2 pigs :)<br />
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22. I have a strong desire for more children.<br />
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23. I love my sister for driving 35 minutes on my birthday just to give me a hug and a Mountain Dew, even though she's coming back tonight for my party :)<br />
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24. I was served breakfast in bed with a gift every single morning of every single birthday growing up.<br />
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25. This morning I was up at 5:45am, started 3 loaves of bread, and read a farm book. Wouldn't trade it for the world.<br />
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26. I wish I weighed 115 lbs. I wish my hair was down to my waist. I wish I could give up dairy and sugar so my skin would be pretty. I wish I had a "Big Berkey" water filtration system. I wish I had antique braided rugs and a never ending supply of hand-spun yarn.<br />
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27. I love my house. I love my yard. I love all these trees. I love these old hardwood floors. I love my laundry line. I love my raised beds. I love the color of my eyes. I love my ankles. I love my natural hair color. I love each of my kids. I love that my family is close.<br />
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28. I would love a navy blue '89 Volvo 740.<br />
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29. I love that my husband knows me better than anyone in the whole world, and still chooses to stick around. I love that he wants to live off the grid. I love that he wants me home. I love that he chops wood and hunts and wrestles with the kids and makes a mean pot of rice. I love that we fight like cats and dogs. I love that we make fun of ourselves. I love that he won't let me move our bedroom furniture around at midnight. I love how he drives. I love being his wife. :)<br />
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Happy birthday to me! :)<br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-26656491313818924012012-10-09T13:13:00.001-07:002012-10-09T13:13:25.511-07:00lessons I'm learning and what our typical day looks like<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I think we're on week 6 or 7 with school. It took us WAY longer to find our new routine this year. New books. New house. Different family dynamic. But we've finally found a way that works for us, for now. I've been learning more and more about how struggles are used at times to shine a light on our weak areas. This year, I am learning.....</div>
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1. I am not a morning person. I stay in bed until the last possible second. And then I need "me time". I flip on a movie so they all stay quiet and still. I check emails, blogs, start laundry, wash dishes, etc. And then I'm too cold to jump in the shower, so I just change into sweats. We eat breakfast, and I lock myself and a child in the music room for 30 minutes - 1 hour. And then I switch kids. It's 11:00 before we even open a book. Shame shame. This has to change. I'm going to have to make myself into a morning person. Ugh. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQCGai1QyC2UJkhbCpMe8cF1hlibJE3kjXihS55BLnEOH_hT9o_peVnOOIELDjwBbNKF3Yzl4irZQcjhXRA8sD_LeIMnm9C2HOURXnm-85EvSaVtiMv-S93-oMzZcPVGAKkeBOo0IAqs/s1600/IMG_5608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQCGai1QyC2UJkhbCpMe8cF1hlibJE3kjXihS55BLnEOH_hT9o_peVnOOIELDjwBbNKF3Yzl4irZQcjhXRA8sD_LeIMnm9C2HOURXnm-85EvSaVtiMv-S93-oMzZcPVGAKkeBOo0IAqs/s320/IMG_5608.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> (the dreaded morning when I realize we're out of granola. sorry kids. breakfast won't be ready for another hour)</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhVG0fr0eQoyXOqqYUe8Ko9-Jv4FaNUwX2nL48D2IfpBL_IWgFdZ_hoo9hq_8xk2RkKV4Kll759mI-XcRFonoifLMHci9TUvECKRWlZ9S2b7naXKkG-ndkqD36S-SBsSeVFZ70NhfFvo/s1600/IMG_5610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhVG0fr0eQoyXOqqYUe8Ko9-Jv4FaNUwX2nL48D2IfpBL_IWgFdZ_hoo9hq_8xk2RkKV4Kll759mI-XcRFonoifLMHci9TUvECKRWlZ9S2b7naXKkG-ndkqD36S-SBsSeVFZ70NhfFvo/s320/IMG_5610.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> (hanging laundry before the sun is completely up because now it takes an entire day to dry one load)</i></div>
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<i>(did I mention it was only 49 degrees?)</i></div>
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<i>2. </i>I prefer things to stay tidy. As in, I'd rather have a child watch a movie while waiting to do a math lesson then to get the puzzles out. Because puzzles make a mess. Movies do not. Megan says "keep it put away, picked up, and quiet" but these kids will apparently learn more if we adopt the "paper, glue and board games can be readily available" mind set. I am learning :)</div>
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<i>(I really don't mind washing it, hanging it on the line, or folding it. The "putting it away" part gets me every time)</i></div>
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3. Kids are way smarter than I give them credit for. I read a book recently and was immediately convicted about reading the "real" Bible to them every day. Not just their story book Bibles. Wish you could've witnessed the giggles and jaw dropping stares as I read the story of Abram lying to Pharoah about Sarai being his sister, instead of his wife. I was all "my word! they're actually listening! and comprehending!" :)</div>
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<i>(reading Genesis during breakfast every day)</i></div>
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4. I am selfish. If we have an "enriching" day of school (meaning I take the time to explain things more, make enough copies to ensure all 3 being involved, etc) we aren't done before 3pm. I hate it. I know we'll get faster as the year progresses, and sure, there are things I could cut out. But I'm really starting to love our curriculum. And they are learning so dang much. Just the other day I said "I just want to read my library books. That's all. Remember when I used to have time to read library books!?!" Homeschooling is very time consuming. And very good at stripping away selfish desires. I'm learning that for now, this season of my life demands that I invest in their education. </div>
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<i>(practice practice practice....)</i></div>
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<i>(practice....practice....practice....)</i></div>
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<i>("lego breaks" aka mommy needs a moment to collect her sanity)</i></div>
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4. I am not a patient person. "You've got to be kidding me. You just read this word on the last page and you forget already!? Come on! Turn your brain on!" :) Okay, not every day is that bad. Last night Silas said "mom, I don't like your low voice. Just your higher, nice voice." "You mean the low voice I use when I'm upset?" "Yeah, I like your higher one better." So today I purposed to use a high voice through the entire reading lesson. Patience, patience patience...</div>
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<i>(easy readers. there are stacks everywhere. thank heavens for the library. I was recently informed that the Little Bear series is not cool. Apparently now there are easy readers with Scooby Doo, Star Wars and Lego titles. these are the "cool" ones. duh, mom)</i></div>
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<i>("snuggly school": school work done on the couch during a rainy day)</i></div>
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5. We all need breaks! Forcing them to play outside ("you are not allowed back in for 10 minutes") works especially well!</div>
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<i>(pirates....on their ship....watching for the enemy)</i></div>
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<i>(a study on insects. the science curriculum left something to be desired on this subject, so we improvised and came up with our own study)</i></div>
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<i>(times 3. can't leave anyone out!)</i></div>
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<i>(still smiling by the time dinner rolls around! we survived another day!)</i></div>
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<i>(note to self: you aren't allowed to start dough at 9:30pm anymore. you will be exhausted and want to go to bed)</i></div>
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<i>(planning out the next day. without a plan, the people parish. smile)</i></div>
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<i>(homemade, whole wheat, egg and dairy free soft pretzels. not very tasty at midnight. :) but the kids loved them the next day!)</i></div>
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Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-75190405673662850802012-09-26T12:00:00.002-07:002012-09-26T12:02:34.815-07:00Why this mean mother keeps dragging her boys to violin lessons.Ah. The violin. Now this is a post that is guaranteed to stir up controversy. (grin) How in the world did we start the kids in violin? WHY in the world did we start the kids in violin? And, my favorite question I've been asked, "how long are you going to make him do it?" Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Here we go...<br />
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My oldest started begging for a violin when he turned 4 years old. This mother's heart was beaming with pride and I was sure this was a sign of greatness. We held him off for an entire year because I was terrified of living vicariously through him. I was bred to be a pianist. My grandmother was a church pianist. My mother was a church pianist. I am a church pianist. I studied classical piano with a WONDERFUL teacher for my last two years of high school and was practicing 4 hours a day. Music is in my blood! I was jumping for joy when I thought my 4 year old had inherited my musical genes. And so it happened, on his 5th birthday, he received his very first violin. It was magical. It was dreamy. And he was enthusiastic. This lasted for approximately 3 weeks. I would round him up every day for a practice session and I was shocked at how slowly he would walk towards me. I even occasionally saw a roll of the eyes! Ah! Heaven forbid. What happened to my budding virtuoso!? Let me be honest and say that things just got worse. We never had to deal with a screechy sound (thankful for high quality instruments!), but as soon as it got difficult, he just lost interest. I thought I was doomed. There were certain days upon arriving at his weekly lesson that he wouldn't even walk towards his teacher when she asked him to! I was mortified, and it was quickly followed by the meanest mommy look I could muster. My sweet, innocent, precious baby boy could actually be disrespectful! I had seen disobedience before, of course. But none of my children had been able to produce a large enough amount of disrespect for any of us to even notice. That is, until things got hard. Of course this is when the questions started. Why is he taking lessons if he's not loving it? Why the violin? When are you going to let him quit? Let me tell you, I've had many quiet heart-to-hearts with myself, contemplating these questions.<br />
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-Why the violin?<br />
Well, quite frankly, I believe it is the easiest instrument for very young children to learn. I was VERY much <i>against</i> the Suzuki method until I found a Suzuki teacher who was willing to also teach them theory. As a pianist, I knew how important it was to read music. I needed to know my kids were learning how to read music.<br />
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-Why isn't he loving it?<br />
He loves his violin teacher. Absolutely adores her. He loves his lessons. But what he hated was practicing. This was eye-opening for me. I truly believe I was the contributing factor to him not loving his practice times. I get frustrated easily, and tend to expect a lot out of my kids. So if a new skill was difficult, I've had to learn tactics to take the drudgery out of it. This has been a growing experience for me! I can zap the fun out of anything. It's true. :) So it was humbly to realize that I was the main reason that his practices were so difficult.<br />
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-When are you going to let him quit?<br />
Hm. Well, to answer this question you have to first ask yourself the reason why you started in the first place. At first we started because we indeed believed he was a prodigy. Ha. Ha. Ha. Every parent believes their child is something extraordinary. Let me tell you that after 1 1/2 years of lessons, I can guarantee that he is NOT a prodigy! LOL :) So do we have high hopes of him joining a conservatory? Heck no! Our #1 reason for not allowing him to quit is because sometimes it's good for your kids to have to do something hard. People, we homeschool. He can do school in his jammies if he wants. He gets a million breaks, and gets to watch tv in the afternoon. Nothing in his life is hard! :) So the reason for the violin? At this point it is SOLELY for the purpose of character building. There are a whole pile of specialized character building books, curriculum, etc. My kids can to learn it while also learning how to play an instrument. Two for the price of one! :) Soooooo, if our main purpose in taking violin lessons is to build character, then go ahead. Ask me again. When are we going to let him quit? :)<br />
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Violin lessons have been the refining fire. For all of us. My husband has to fork out the money for something he isn't seeing immediate results with. I have to choose.....ugh, yes, choose......to gather him each and every day to practice and practice and practice. This child has to choose to speak respectfully and work hard, even if he doesn't feel like it. What a priceless lesson to learn.<br />
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<b>p.s. baby #2 started lessons in august. heaven help me! :)</b></div>
Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-68768468880038561762012-08-15T11:08:00.003-07:002012-08-15T11:09:06.795-07:00On his 5th birthday...The 14th of this month marked 5 years. We had prayed for this baby. Night after night of asking God to bless us with another life. How quickly I became pregnant again. Tears of joy after reading those results. Just pure excitement. Absolutely perfect pregnancy. Planning on a VBAC. And at 26 weeks Seth confesses that he doesn't feel peace about it. For some reason, he just didn't think that was the best decision for us. So after all the work I did to find a doctor who would take the risk to deliver a VBAC baby 16 months after a c-section, I called up my original OB and we scheduled a cesarean. I was too afraid to <i>not</i> follow his gut instinct. We had chosen the name Logan in the case that I was carrying a boy. It was sophisticated. Preppy. Everything we assumed our 2nd baby would be. But something weird happened on the day of the ultrasound. We saw the color orange. And rock climbing. I can't explain it. I know we're weird. But we both walked out of there knowing this child was not meant to be named Logan. So then we settled on Owen. But problem #2 arose. We live in the Owen J. Roberts school district. We already determined this baby's middle name was going to be John, after my father-in-law. So having a child named Owen John Roberts was just weird. So we dove into baby name books for weeks. And settled on Caden. It was the only name that we could agree on. Neither one of us had a bad association with someone named Caden. :) The morning that we left for my scheduled c-section, we tiptoed into Silas' room to say goodbye and I lost it. I felt as though we were ruining his life. He would no longer get the same amount of attention that he had grown accustomed to. And I was scared. Quite frankly I doubted that I could love another child as much as I loved my first. I didn't want to have to love him less, in order to have more room in my heart to love the next one. And I was scared to death to go through another cesarean. The first one was a piece of cake. I had labored for 24 hours and I would've blown that child out of my nose if I had to. But this was so different. I was well rested. Not quite 38 weeks along. Still very comfortable. And I knew what to expect. Thankfully excitement ruled fear, and his delivery went flawlessly. Except for one part. My OB leaned over the blue curtain with sharp tools in his hands to say it was a darn good thing I had another section. The wall of my uterus was paper thin. He put the pressure of a butter knife on it and it tore right open. If I had tried for a VBAC, it would have ruptured. His life, as well as mine, would have more than likely been lost. I've taken Seth's gut feeling very seriously ever since then. My baby boy was born covered in white hair. It was hilarious. I burst into tears and said "I LOVE having babies!" And then I said "he looks exactly like your grandfather!" :) Funny the little things you remember. Caden was a tough baby. Or should I say life was tough when he was a baby. Seth worked 2 jobs and was busy from 8am - 2am the following day. We were going through a tough transition. I was quickly realizing Seth wasn't the person I thought he was when we married, and vice versa. We had 2 boys, 16 months apart. I was very much a single mother....emotionally, more than financially or physically. Caden was diagnosed with allergies early on. And I didn't "get" him. He wasn't like me. He has the exact personality of Seth. And that was hard for me to accept. I spent the first 4 years of his life always a little offended. He didn't talk openly to me. He didn't want to cuddle on the couch. He wasn't self-motivated. He didn't care about making people laugh. He was completely and utterly independent. Or so I thought. But of course God gives us what He knows is best for us. I have been stretched in so many ways. Caden feels love differently than I do, or any of our other children do. I've had to learn this new way of showing him love. And he shows love differently. And I've had to learn to put away my selfish desires for a child who totally depends on me emotionally, and learn to connect and bond with a child who can seem very distant at times. It's him. It's the person God created him to be. He is fearfully and wonderfully made. And I love it. I never had to love Silas less, so I would have room to love Caden. God opened up a whole new portion of my heart that He created only for this child.<br />
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He has a dry sense of humor. Is allergic to dairy, eggs, kiwi, and wool. He's our animal lover. Dreams about superheroes. Is a puzzle genius. Requires the most sleep. Is braver than his big brother. Doesn't feel he has anything to prove. And loves shoulder to shoulder time. Sit beside him (without cuddling and asking him a million times if something is wrong or if we can hold hands. hehe...) and watch a movie. Or just sit in the driveway as he rides his bike. Or hand him a paint brush. Or listen as he yells out answers to math problems that his big brother is struggling with. He's in love with girls. Has been in the ER twice. Can be best buddies with his little sister. Asks if I sleep with my bra on, and if I put a new one on every day. :) And will sob uncontrollably at the end of the 2nd Lady and the Tramp when Tramp's son (the puppy) is stuck in the cage at night and is scared. This child has taught me way more than I've taught him. Can't believe he's 5.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-22882103657311587292012-08-09T13:50:00.005-07:002012-08-09T13:51:01.318-07:00My Nightstand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been in a book mood. We're approaching the end of summer (my very least favorite season), gearing up for school, and making more frequent trips back to the library. There's not much enjoyable about snuggling up with 3 sweaty kids on the couch to read for 30 minutes. The Mr. has to be in bed by 9pm to get sufficient sleep before his alarm goes off at 1:30am for work. And I am a NIGHT OWL. This has been a somewhat stretching experience for me, to say the least. :) So I've been trying to read. We crank the window air conditioner unit and I put on a teeny tiny light. Here's the stack I've been going through. I find it hard to read just one book, beginning to end. Because my mood changes by the night (poor Seth), I'm never in the mood to read the same thing two nights in a row. Thus the stack. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFBSh0q3BLPm2OcPcY6gOSJiGQCz2tBkp6FuCNHRa653ETNqAzi6uIXkZZ_QlAbCmVfPK-_EKR32k-oqvN2UgQAOcSheUmRr762msvgcKEICJsYW_Npt0N47EPiKFrDftKbkVl3Lo8b0o/s1600/IMG_5067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFBSh0q3BLPm2OcPcY6gOSJiGQCz2tBkp6FuCNHRa653ETNqAzi6uIXkZZ_QlAbCmVfPK-_EKR32k-oqvN2UgQAOcSheUmRr762msvgcKEICJsYW_Npt0N47EPiKFrDftKbkVl3Lo8b0o/s640/IMG_5067.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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- Almost Amish - this is the story of a family that goes from high class activities and enjoying a successful physician's paycheck, to completely simplifying their entire lifestyle. Very inspiring. And the cover is GORGEOUS.<br />
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- Bringing Up Bebe - from the library. One woman's account of the different ways in which French parents raise their children. Eye opening! But hard to not think "I wish so-and-so would read this...." while you're reading it :)<br />
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- Julia's Hope - I am NOT a fiction girl. CANNOT stand fiction. But this, I like. Because it may or may not be about a young mom during the Great Depression who has to pick weeds in the backyard to feed her family. Not that I'm in to that sort of thing or anything..... ;)<br />
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- The Backyard Homestead - more of a reference manual. They share step by step plans how a family of 4 could live off the land on as little as 1/10 of an acre. Astonishing.<br />
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- The Dirty Life - one of my all time favorites. Reading it for the 3rd time. A writer from NYC meets a farmer living off the grid. They fall in love. She leaves the city. True story. Ahhhh.....<br />
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- Real Marriage - Driscoll's new book on sex, friendship, and life together. Driscoll has been a favorite of Seth's for a few years, so I kind of got it to show him my support. I never expected to actually like the book. LOVE their writing style. LOVE their openness. Would recommend it to any married couple.<br />
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- The Homemade Pantry - a mother's day gift. They know me too well. 101 foods you can stop buying and start making. Her descriptions of the recipes themselves will melt your heart. I love her. And her food. Photography is AMAZING. Will be pouring over it for years.<br />
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<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-44877365045281911202012-06-06T17:59:00.000-07:002012-06-06T17:59:42.884-07:00How my mother ruined meThis whole moving experience has been exhausting. I don't remember it being this stressful 6 years ago. But then again, I only had a baby. We've been learning tons. And have gotten frustrated. And have been blown away by how evident God's hand has been. I specifically prayed for that. We really didn't think any of this would actually work out, so I prayed that God would make Himself VERY evident. Thanks for the listening ear, Lord. :) In the midst of it all, I've been forced to look back over the past 6 years, and wonder what the next 6 will be like. That's when I realized my mother ruined me. I have a very vivid, clear memory. Growing up, our home was ALWAYS clean. Of course there were a few times when Jamie's room was messy, (grin) but we were never allowed to go to bed with it looking like that. There was ALWAYS dinner. There was never a "well, can you just have another bowl of cereal?" Or a "here's bread and butter". My children probably take comfort in those words, whereas I had never heard them in my childhood. The grass was always mowed. Every single room was decorated, vaccuumed, and dusted. She NEVER sat and watched tv during the day. She was rarely on the phone. Internet didn't exist. I never had to climb over a 4 inch pile of shoes, socks and toys in the car to get my seatbelt on. Our clothes were clean and put away, unless of course my dad got home first and hung our bras on the ceiling fan. In other words, my memories were far different than my own kid's memories will be. And I hate that. She ruined me. Her standard was way too high. Of course I don't remember the "poor" days. Days spent filling the holes of the pickup with old underwear so they wouldn't arrive at church covered in dust. Or days upon days of eating deer meat for breakfast, lunch and dinner because there wasn't money for anything else. I have no memory of those times. As far back as I remember, whenever I was struggling with something, she'd softly sing "Count Your Blessings". It probably annoyed me. But after I birthed my own daughter, I quietly sang those words each and every night. She's 3 1/2 now and won't go to bed without it. But tonight was different. She sang along. And I was swimming in tears. For some reason I never expected it. Didn't think it meant all that much to her. I just did it as a reminder.... for myself. But instead it's ingrained in her mind as a memory. And I wasn't even trying. It made me think about all of those memories I have, and wondered how many of those were made on purpose. Such conviction. It's not the memories that I'm trying to force, but rather my daily motions. That's what they'll remember. Thanks for ruining me, mom. :)Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-3735403037318850592012-05-24T07:19:00.000-07:002012-05-24T07:19:10.362-07:00We're moving!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
July would've been our 6th anniversary in this house. 6 freakin' years! Silas was 3 months old when we moved in. We had a nursery....and a guest room! We promised each other we'd "stick it out" for two years. We'd "make due" with another town house. We'd be super disciplined, and suffer. ;) If you had told me we'd be here nearly 6 whole years, I would've collapsed into a pile of tears. But then life struck. Job changes, car changes, church changes, adding a baby, and then another. New friendships made, old friendships lost. Meeting wonderful neighbors. Calling the cops on others. Fights. Ohhhhh, the fights. The tears. The birthdays. The surprises. The LOVE. Growing. Taking a few steps back. Feeling defeated. Finding success. It all happened here. Am I excited to move? You shouldn't have to ask. My husband heard his sobbing wife on the phone when I said "our offer was accepted....we got the house." I am elated. My kids will have a yard. My kids will have a FREAKIN' YARD!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgDtKL2nKCMk8UnjJ31MfPfoRf-aQJopUpNJJTzkX6o9MAzK4UcQSneAVqy87KEwOvmubqoVedoE_YcYkNWJ2FGSpH41-PlhD-3j5ouLG2EKHRoolAlA8ZzOQUBmEICFpqocWub66YPM/s1600/IMG_4758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizgDtKL2nKCMk8UnjJ31MfPfoRf-aQJopUpNJJTzkX6o9MAzK4UcQSneAVqy87KEwOvmubqoVedoE_YcYkNWJ2FGSpH41-PlhD-3j5ouLG2EKHRoolAlA8ZzOQUBmEICFpqocWub66YPM/s400/IMG_4758.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-62180993334907302642012-03-15T13:54:00.005-07:002012-03-15T14:05:01.948-07:00I captured the moment....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNYyp3kpgSNm-GprF2TiyLgDCGs6iJhA3Vauftzn1hvSZ5JytGVKJHRvNfChp3udedDglF5FPn1vRCArr4HyIRufiTVKJP_E6yUJ1fMU21JXPEY2zX-yMNmKBE-UIB4Ojorzu9SvlcJ74/s1600/IMG_4402.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNYyp3kpgSNm-GprF2TiyLgDCGs6iJhA3Vauftzn1hvSZ5JytGVKJHRvNfChp3udedDglF5FPn1vRCArr4HyIRufiTVKJP_E6yUJ1fMU21JXPEY2zX-yMNmKBE-UIB4Ojorzu9SvlcJ74/s400/IMG_4402.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720231316320340162" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">...discovered an "m" on my side of the bed. they explained it standed for "mom", in case I forgot where I sleep.....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg98JEMYz5Gjkyt991s2zEQjZoXkskgKvzw9nqJw3lFyd0xWutD7fdDKTQ2m_bM9sJWUlrbt5xLjEqY0oVR9xoy68Wlbi8WjPe5FN-_y36nSC9MCn6T36eDN9STGT9AvCxMnxakgHNtpSY/s1600/IMG_4401.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg98JEMYz5Gjkyt991s2zEQjZoXkskgKvzw9nqJw3lFyd0xWutD7fdDKTQ2m_bM9sJWUlrbt5xLjEqY0oVR9xoy68Wlbi8WjPe5FN-_y36nSC9MCn6T36eDN9STGT9AvCxMnxakgHNtpSY/s400/IMG_4401.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720231314704325250" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">...."d" is for dad :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplyglFebVttIi3sPcFPOK8-kn9-EAHLZOUdhmGaHwKB6OyP6oqQZ_TCQlYg_aZvtPcACc05g4KODZORk3AoAl-Mjv8U3FizT6W0ErrKpUihMrVaqRa4eVH6p5WyTj779btSYeqXXNzTA/s1600/IMG_4400.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplyglFebVttIi3sPcFPOK8-kn9-EAHLZOUdhmGaHwKB6OyP6oqQZ_TCQlYg_aZvtPcACc05g4KODZORk3AoAl-Mjv8U3FizT6W0ErrKpUihMrVaqRa4eVH6p5WyTj779btSYeqXXNzTA/s400/IMG_4400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720231305863645362" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">....the very rough draft of this year's schedule...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJCYC_T-AEst-OBWANJC-U3xbcdO-K8o3jYOhG2049sgbuGGgXf91BKrauuMbGw_OH8XSZUTZu-c4OlOs8xzje9yyMQs2uquAkJZvzO7yoUH5IICZ7Esj4YYUpwdME7SIF4L6khQ4IXM/s1600/IMG_4399.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJCYC_T-AEst-OBWANJC-U3xbcdO-K8o3jYOhG2049sgbuGGgXf91BKrauuMbGw_OH8XSZUTZu-c4OlOs8xzje9yyMQs2uquAkJZvzO7yoUH5IICZ7Esj4YYUpwdME7SIF4L6khQ4IXM/s400/IMG_4399.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720230878497991266" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">....our school cabinet completely cleaned out and ready for a new year's worth of books...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzTLikrMMie1dDS_DDHnjyhqEFujQKsBdolg-wXLz0kwQnbln-O6meviJNszRIDWePs1RFpTCGOn_siCfMG0LJGAO3d7Sx8vn12VLrTZb3dHwn0d-V-ZUZpAEqcqlE0cpwO3e4_08n3o/s1600/IMG_4397.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzTLikrMMie1dDS_DDHnjyhqEFujQKsBdolg-wXLz0kwQnbln-O6meviJNszRIDWePs1RFpTCGOn_siCfMG0LJGAO3d7Sx8vn12VLrTZb3dHwn0d-V-ZUZpAEqcqlE0cpwO3e4_08n3o/s400/IMG_4397.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720230865386262050" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">....the ones we're done with!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTN6uXZRmuV28XWwa0YSsyWDw0TLTYZM5kWeZR4KBVc-B26ftUSDmqzi1KDWXz196qJmYLhL1m3NA5TcK0Z3lrlwwMjtbNp90WvXlgo6woIEI546sVvfBo8OP2S-OQJ4zRPELs5oEjc_w/s1600/IMG_4396.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTN6uXZRmuV28XWwa0YSsyWDw0TLTYZM5kWeZR4KBVc-B26ftUSDmqzi1KDWXz196qJmYLhL1m3NA5TcK0Z3lrlwwMjtbNp90WvXlgo6woIEI546sVvfBo8OP2S-OQJ4zRPELs5oEjc_w/s400/IMG_4396.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720230858391388546" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">this perfectly describes her....all pink and frilly, digging in the mud :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsGGE9jwoEx3WFoYv7n73fs4JlkWxNSe3-3yHQn88t3Ob3bGuakd3bVVzrMTzWnB0q1HwJrHxC-HS-RgtIqY7IOdPn7bfbYChuNBdpp3PL48_QPzBaeTN6M3Xmf2pOBpi0lm8pAIKQ0d0/s1600/IMG_4388.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsGGE9jwoEx3WFoYv7n73fs4JlkWxNSe3-3yHQn88t3Ob3bGuakd3bVVzrMTzWnB0q1HwJrHxC-HS-RgtIqY7IOdPn7bfbYChuNBdpp3PL48_QPzBaeTN6M3Xmf2pOBpi0lm8pAIKQ0d0/s400/IMG_4388.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720230855440452722" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I made deodorant using this....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSylcioOz_bmRfgj9DyCEfrejaSNYF0eroDOIRnQ_kHw4RjnYkZjA20_xOeS8iWxXsG-zr9M_CFK6_UhogovnhDyZgJNylT85fWOADsVAiBT2eDw77ekhp3SQqzpYMB-eM6lPmCT3yW8k/s1600/IMG_4385.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSylcioOz_bmRfgj9DyCEfrejaSNYF0eroDOIRnQ_kHw4RjnYkZjA20_xOeS8iWxXsG-zr9M_CFK6_UhogovnhDyZgJNylT85fWOADsVAiBT2eDw77ekhp3SQqzpYMB-eM6lPmCT3yW8k/s400/IMG_4385.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720230846935442066" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">and these. it's lovely and actually works! :)</div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-4436063795986868182012-03-07T11:04:00.004-08:002012-03-07T11:31:37.041-08:00a gapBelieve it or not, we've finished our school year. Starting in July can have that affect. ;) Being advocates of classical education but no where near seasoned enough to do it by myself, I chose to follow the schedule and curriculum choices that Easy Classical set out. A woman I highly respect suggested it and it exceeded my expectations. It's a fool-proof system and they laid everything out for me. As we have committed to take this entire journey on a year-by-year basis, I have planned to use it for our next school year (kindergarten and first grade). The one thing I've been struggling with is what to do now. I've considered jumping into our next school year. When I think about when we'd finish, and then choosing to continue on with the <i>next</i> year, I have horrible visions of being one of "those" people. You know. Having a 6 year old in 4th grade???? :) And then I heard about the gap year. High school students who are either ahead on credits or need a year of maturing before heading off to college choose to travel. Study abroad. Apprentice with a veterinarian. Anything, really. So, that's what I've chosen to do from March - August. These will be our "gap months". :) One of the things I LOVE about being the teacher AND the mom is that I know each one of their strengths and weaknesses. And because I'm scared to death about what first grade might bring, and how an almost 5 year old will handle the rigors of kindergarten the classical way, we are taking a step back in order to lay an extra foundation. How quickly can he read that book and yet still comprehend it? They became pretty sloppy with those math flashcards.... maybe we can work for accuracy. Sure they completed their work, but sighs and rolling of the eyes also accompanied it. This is what our gap months will be for. I started wavering in my ability to complete it all in a day. Maybe I could use some straightening up as well. If we cut back the responsibility load, in essence those things that are left over should have much more time devoted to them. Hopefully resulting in accuracy, efficiency, and a respectful and obedient spirit. I also made a list. I make lists for everything, and I'm one of those people that has to add 3 items to the list that have already been accomplished solely for the sheer joy of crossing them off. :) But this list was different. What are the common sense things they'd learn if they were in "real" school? I think we, as homeschoolers, tend to fall short at times. That's why we end up holding a tissue to the nose of the 11 year old and demand them to "blow". All of those little every day accomplishments that are done quicker if they're done by me. But if they were in "real" school, they'd have to take responsibility and do it themselves. Hence my list. What do I want them to accomplish this year, <i>besides</i> academics. Even if it takes an entire month to learn one new skill, we can still accomplish 12 before the year is over! And one more thing I'm hoping to accomplish during our gap months.... my home! July will mark the 6th anniversary of moving in. I can't even believe that's a reality. Our goal was to stick it out for two years. And then life smacked us in the face. :) But as we get our ducks back in a row, we'd really really REALLY love to be living somewhere else next year. In my ultra analytical planner mind, I figured I have approximately 11 months to purge, clean, re-organize, paint, replace carpet/blinds/moldings, and the list goes on.... That's hard to do when the kids are 3, 4, and 5 and you're homeschooling preschool, K5 and 1st! :) Thus, these glorious gap months. :) Who knows. We may even tip-toe near the edge of normal and wait to schedule "back to school" night until September. :)Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-50925028105616663392012-01-20T12:21:00.000-08:002012-01-20T12:55:12.263-08:00Healing<div style="text-align: center;">I have been quiet, and I have been hurting. Inconvenient health problems cropped up towards the end of the summer and instead of starting an investigative hunt, we cranked the stress up a notch. Today I am slumped on the couch in a state of worry, fully getting what I deserved. ;) Constantly in this realm of concern and anxiety....waiting on doctors, waiting on test results......thinking maybe it's all in my head. And then a new month starts and I'm reminded that this is my reality. I opened the <i>Word</i> this morning, guilty that it's no longer a habit. I had prayed first. Prayed for wisdom. Prayed for healing. Prayed for my children. I had then turned the tables, to read what He had written for me, and I sneezed. Oh my heavens the pain. I doubled over with the sensation that my abdomen had been torn in two. Slam! I shut my Bible and picked up the phone. Your turn is over, Lord! I'm in pain now, so I need my husband. :) It's so interesting to me how easy it is to come to the Father while things are going well. I trust you Lord, because right now at this very moment things are great! How I hope God has a great sense of humor, because I'm certain He gets a big kick out of me. :) I am a control freak by nature. If I can't research it, or don't have an answer for it, it must not exist. I have used Google, family, friends, and 3 different doctors offices.....one mainstream, one ultra-holistic, and another somewhere in the middle.....and no one can figure out how best to address this. But there HAS to be an answer. And then I HAVE to be able to fix this by juicing large amounts of kale. :) Or maybe Chakra's are the answer. I've done a little bit of research about those as well, and my chakra's symptoms are linked to bitterness, fear of abandonement, and financial instability. Sounds pretty legit to me! Haha! But deep down, I needed to be reminded that there is only one Healer. He is already aware of what's wrong, what needs to be done to fix it, and how it's going to affect my family and I. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Proverbs 3:7b-8a</div><div style="text-align: center;">"...fear the Lord and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your body...."</div><div style="text-align: center;">Psalm 147:3</div><div style="text-align: center;">"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."</div><div style="text-align: center;">James 5:15</div><div style="text-align: center;">"And the prayer offered in faith will restore the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up...."</div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-44964116843935969112011-11-20T19:59:00.001-08:002011-11-20T20:28:57.424-08:00too much caffeine = you need to hear about my weekend!What a weekend. We traveled south for the husband's 10 year high school reunion. We had planned to break an 11 hour trip in half, and find a hotel in virginia. Evidently every major university along route 81 was preparing for their last football game of the season because a 5 hour hunt for a vacant room ended in us reaching our final destination at 6:15am the next morning. There was no room in the inn.....or in any inn, for that matter. We stopped at every Marriott from the top of Virginia to the bottom of North Carolina without any luck. If college football is this big of a deal, I think I'd better jump on the band wagon. Who knew!? We stumbled into "grandma's" house at 6:15am and went straight to bed. Ohhhhh how I love being there! Between the built-in babysitters and the 2 minute drive to Starbucks and Hobby Lobby, it's truly heaven on earth. I had been informed of the 10 year reunion back in July. In true female fashion I had a strategic plan to lose 20 pounds. Instead, I think I gained 7. As if a 10 year reunion isn't bad enough, try filling a room with pencil-thin southern belles. We came in 2nd place as the couple who had been married the longest, and tied for 1st as the couple who had birthed the most children since high school! I think that deserved a reward, no? Instead I sulked to the car and vented "I was the chubby wife with the mom hair cut who looked exhausted!" My adoring husband knew that laughing at me, rather than with me, at that moment was his best option. He treated me to a nice restaurant and we ordered dessert to go so I could eat it in privacy with my sweatpants on. ;) ANYHOO..... this was not the point of this post! <div>What's up with all these single, God-fearing, successful young men???? We know multiple here at home and I had the privilege of meeting two at the reunion. All holding steady jobs..... involved in their churches..... sincere...... good looking. I was brainstorming (during our romantic dinner) and came to a conclusion. My opinions are controversial, I realize that. And most of you will not agree. BUT..... My first reaction was "there must be something inferior about these guys". It's always the man's fault, isn't it? Culture screams it. But as I thought more, I turned the tables on myself. Could it be that there was a generation of girls raised to believe that they could be independent? Successful? And that motherhood was in no way as fulfilling? Who wants to stay at home? Scrubbing yellow poop out of sleepers and going without a shower? There must be something better. There is, actually! You can dress nice, and stay clean, and earn MONEY, and make your own decisions! As shocking as it may sound, I don't believe that this is always wrong. God certainly doesn't call everyone to the same lifestyle. But it does make me sad when I see so many amazing husband-material men, without a woman willing to follow their leadership. I, for one, have never regretted my lack of career. And I won't say I didn't warn you if my own daughter lacks a desire for one as well. :)</div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-27551358368727926902011-08-08T20:11:00.000-07:002011-08-08T20:18:28.932-07:00Sweet Promises<div style="text-align: center;">Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father</div><div style="text-align: center;">There is no shadow of turning with Thee</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not</div><div style="text-align: center;">As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Morning by morning new mercies I see</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>All I have needed Thy hand hath provided</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Summer and winter and springtime and harvest</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above</div><div style="text-align: center;">Join with all nature in manifold witness</div><div style="text-align: center;">To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thy own dear presence to cheer and to guide</div><div style="text-align: center;">Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow</div><div style="text-align: center;">Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside</div><div>
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Lyrics brought to you by my sheer adoration with old hymns. And because sometimes reading them means more than singing them :)</b></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-18453891322595347022011-08-07T19:38:00.000-07:002011-08-07T20:22:24.967-07:00EightEight years ago tonight, I was running wild with my campers through the grass. We had a late night in the pavilion and were headed to our cabin for pizza. I had survived a few crazy teen weeks and was enjoying this week of younger, sweeter girls. I had been sharing a cabin with another counselor for the summer, but that was the day she went home. My campers were busy in a hot afternoon sun when I ran to grab my phone and make a quick call home. Those were very unusual for me.....for that summer. I wasn't homesick. I wasn't lonely. But for a providential reason, I called home. We talked about my week....their day. I heard everyone's voice. But unknowingly, it was the last moment on this earth that I was able to hear his. I debated blogging about this. Afraid I was sharing someone else's tragedy. Something private. But it's my story, too. Words help to heal my wounds. And so I write. The glass globe in which I lived had only suffered small scratches thus far. I remember telling my mother at the age of 14 that she was ruining my life by teaching me at home. :) There were the phone calls to boys to end relationships. The most severe thing that had wrecked my existence up until this point was the death of my grandmother. I had never experienced death before. I was only 9 years old and I remember crying night after night.... for months. That phone conversation on August 7th, 2003 wasn't exceedingly long. Looking back I wish that I had never hung up the phone. Or that I hadn't been so embarrassed of my unusually strong relationship that I shared with my parents. I may have called home more often.... But who does that? What 19 year old genuinely enjoys the company of her father? Or desires to be with him just as much as anyone else on the face of the planet? I knew that wasn't normal. The life of my friends and peers confirmed it. Isn't God's mercy incredible? That I could endure an entire summer void of middle-of-the-week calls home..... but not this day? This was the day I called home. I slept well that night. August 8th was <b>hot. </b>So much so that they decided to completely arrange a new camp schedule and include a morning swim! I swam with my girls early, and was standing in the pavilion waiting for the change of events when he found me. One of the camp directors. He looked quiet, but not at all emotional. He told me that my grandfather was in the camp office and needed to see me. He must've motioned the counselor that I was talking with to follow me, because I could sense her presence not too far off during that long walk back down the road. Have eight years truly come and gone? Eight years since I've heard his voice. Eight years from the day I heard those words and collapsed in that chair. It's been eight years, and I have never once stepped foot into that camp office again. Eight years since I sat quietly as a passenger in my grandfather's car as he took me home to face my new reality? Eight years since I cried in the arms of my new love until four in the morning just muttering the words "my heart hurts. my heart literally hurts. I just want it to stop hurting....." If I could express to you my love for him, or my perception of his perfection, I would. Oh trust me I would. Never has a daughter loved her father more. Never has a young woman held another man in such high esteem. By God's mercy He allowed me to have 19 years with him. By God's mercy I know without a shadow of a doubt that because of a decision he made at the age of 18 to trust in God ALONE for his salvation, he is in the tender care of my Heavenly Father at this very moment. And by God's mercy He allowed us to share a very unique relationship. One of father-daughter, but also one of best friend and confidant. I cannot express my deep pain. But I also lack the words to express my deep gratitude to Him.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-79441042190931218692011-07-25T20:32:00.000-07:002011-07-25T20:43:56.464-07:00Broken Bones<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Psalm 51 was read during the Sunday morning service. My eyes have seen those words before....many times....but they were never felt. It was never personal. Until Sunday. A lump formed in my throat when we read verse 8. "Make me to hear the joy and gladness, Let the bones which You have broken rejoice." Eight years ago my Father allowed my bones to be broken. I still don't understand why. I still don't accept it. I've taken these eight years to harbor anger and bitterness, and I've slowly watched as my faith has slipped away. Willingly. "Sorry God. You had Your chance to prove Yourself. If only You had come through for me..." My broken bones have not rejoiced. May this, dear Lord, be my heart-felt prayer for the next eight.</span>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-26728200738152143282011-07-14T18:05:00.000-07:002011-07-14T18:46:15.174-07:00Using PenniesIn the first year that my husband and I were married, he taught in a small Christian school. Take-home pay was roughly $13,000. :) We had just finished paying for his last semester of college, used wedding money to buy a Mac, moved 12 hours north and bought a house. Many lessons were learned that year, and many mistakes were made. I was pregnant with our first-born and craved water and fruit the entire 9 months. When winter rolled around and my belly was getting bigger, one memory sticks out in my mind more than some of the others. It was a cold quiet evening at home and we were busy paying bills and looking over the budget. I mentioned to my husband how badly I wanted an orange. It was probably about 9pm, and this pregnant woman was bound and determined to leave the house for an orange! After scanning the budget with a fine-toothed comb, I was told we couldn't afford an orange. What? You've got to be kidding me. I was fuming. And hormonal. But he was right. We didn't have the money to purchase an orange. Our grocery budget that year was $35 a week. He didn't receive any meals at work through the school, so this had to last us breakfast, lunch, and dinner for 7 days. We ate a lot of Ramen.....and those teeny tiny frozen pizzas at Aldi's that taste like cardboard. I steered clear of larger chain stores like Giant. Through-out our 6 1/2 years of marriage we've received multiple levels of paychecks. There are always seasons of bounty and seasons of want. My husband asked me to blog about my cheap meals. :) So, without any further explanation, here are my favorite top tips:<div><br /></div><div>1. Research meat-less meals. This sounds so obvious, but it really does make a huge difference. Look on the bright side. You really don't need all those gross hormones and antibiotics they pumped that animal with anyway. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Learn how to make rice! And I don't mean the instant kind. You don't need a rice cooker, either. A little oil, a little water, and a little rice can go a long way in making you feel full for pennies. My husband has perfected it. My kids have <i>learned</i> to love it. And we can use it every night if we're in a pinch.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Eliminate all animal products. If you have to add milk to the muffins, or cheese to the top, or an egg to the meatloaf, don't make it! Animal products ( along with processed/packaged crap) add in most of the expense of the meal. </div><div><br /></div><div>4. Don't ever run out of onions or garlic. :) You can eat rice and veggies or potatoes and veggies every.single.night as long as you have these two secrets ingredients. But <i>please </i>purchase the actual garlic....not the minced variety in the jar. If you only use one clove a day, it really lasts a long time. </div><div><br /></div><div>5. Water down all of your drinks. My kids (ages 5, 3, and 2) still have their cups filled 3/4 with water and 1/4 with juice. They're so used to it that they don't notice the difference. When I make KoolAid as a special treat or when friends are coming to play, I use the "two quart" recipe, but actually mix it up in a gallon pitcher. It's a little weaker, but you still get the fun color and the sweet taste. </div><div><br /></div><div>6. I'm afraid I've lost all of my readers by now. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Make it yourself. Everything. Duh. </div><div><br /></div><div>8. Make snack plates for lunch. Set out the number of plates you need for you and your kids, and then hunt the pantry or the back of the fridge for whatever is going bad. Carrot sticks, half a handful of raisins, the bottom crumbs of the pretzel bag, 4 pieces of cereal, a few pickles, and some apple slices can go a LONG way. </div><div><br /></div><div>9. Don't plan your meals or impulse buy. I always spend more when my meals are planned because I have to get a million different ingredients for 7 different meals. Instead, take your grocery budget in CASH form to a discount outlet and just stock up. Every night I just "create" meals by what I have, instead of planning to make a recipe that I've forgotten an ingredient for. </div><div><br /></div><div>10. Our favorite way to eat for pennies: Sautee half of an onion and one clove of garlic in a small amount of oil in a large pot on your stovetop. Take whatever leftover potatoes you find covered in dust or spuds on the floor of your pantry and cut them up into inch-long cubes. Seal the pot with a big heavy lid and just wait. When you expect your potatoes to be about halfway done, throw a large bag of frozen broccoli on top and seal again with the lid. Your potatoes are cooking and your broccoli is steaming. :) Serve with salt and pepper. It's DIVINE! </div><div><br /></div><div>I hope I haven't a) grossed anyone out by the fact that I water down KoolAid and b) made myself sound discontent. I've learned to eat on a budget and find it rather thrilling. :) God has promised to provide for our needs, but I think all too often we expect to find bags of groceries sitting by the front door thanks to a generous anonymous old lady from church. Sometimes God provides the determination and creativity, instead. </div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-30237981085580768302011-07-13T12:43:00.000-07:002011-07-13T12:58:09.508-07:00Our First Year<div><br />2010 - 2011 was our first full year homeschooling. I went into it with a million ideas and expectations. I had my books, and my schedule, and my clock. :) God did a great job keeping me flexible because we changed curriculum after only the first few weeks. :) Preschool, to me, wasn't so much about the education as it was about preparing for kindergarten. I wanted my children to be aware that they would, in fact, be required to sit and listen and heed instruction from time to time. :) It was time to know how to learn things from a book, rather than just hands on. The year was fantastic. Studies were only focused for my then-4-year-old. Everyone else was invited to join in, but just had less of a work load. I learned so much, as did he. He completed the Brain Quest Kindergarten book, started violin and piano lessons, learned how to read and how to count to 100. All of this coming from the child who never took his first steps until 17 months and reacted badly to his MMR, which resulted in not talking until 2 1/2 years old. I'm not being boastful. I know there are other 4 years old who have accomplished so much more. But for my child who would rather vaccuum than do a worksheet, and has overcome many developmental obstacles, I was so proud.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6LWH4PrA79kKZkm6qEMdHiFAZkb8A2MWhxOML5Q3N4H6pK9yPA5h2rSq63UnDQCQh5zcVqitD6kNd9rrPzdS2WcSXRG15lN9tmHGKz8ZcywYtD6ptHZv4tAyp4mJsrqpoXIJuWRuW-h8/s1600/IMG_2931.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6LWH4PrA79kKZkm6qEMdHiFAZkb8A2MWhxOML5Q3N4H6pK9yPA5h2rSq63UnDQCQh5zcVqitD6kNd9rrPzdS2WcSXRG15lN9tmHGKz8ZcywYtD6ptHZv4tAyp4mJsrqpoXIJuWRuW-h8/s400/IMG_2931.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628928063246581474" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4NDVS5SQ3C3v618EX0XKPel5HdN13p4wM4FZEQsI2UV5q9_VIBe1YZ_r7A6SQu6tJPIJY6hlpYW3ZBHDVJ9clrPxtQ0VIDz8ecsANALEY-qodpN_HdQdp3VcKuiIXSvmMt6QS9WKvYTU/s1600/IMG_2930.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4NDVS5SQ3C3v618EX0XKPel5HdN13p4wM4FZEQsI2UV5q9_VIBe1YZ_r7A6SQu6tJPIJY6hlpYW3ZBHDVJ9clrPxtQ0VIDz8ecsANALEY-qodpN_HdQdp3VcKuiIXSvmMt6QS9WKvYTU/s400/IMG_2930.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628928062995086578" /></a>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-5825788805333486582011-07-05T19:15:00.000-07:002011-07-05T19:48:42.043-07:00Funny FactsI have so much to blog about and cute pictures to share with you, but tonight all of these random memories flooded my mind and I wanted to jot them down before I forgot. :)<div><br /></div><div>- My every dream and intention was to be the next Michelle Duggar. </div><div><br /></div><div>- When I was a child my bedroom bookcase was adorned with old squirrel tails and turkey feet. The leftover remains of the most recent animal my dad filled our freezer with. :) </div><div><br /></div><div>- Letters A thru G have an accompanying color in my mind. For example: F is always green. E is always a purpley/blue. Etc....</div><div><br /></div><div>- I am very proud of my c-section scar and hope that it never goes away.</div><div><br /></div><div>- I am probably the least competitive person on the planet. Don't feel the need to beat you in anything :)</div><div><br /></div><div>- My ankles are my favorite body part. </div><div><br /></div><div>- It's been two years since my husband had a vasectomy, and there hasn't been a day that goes by without me hoping it didn't work. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Thinks ignorance is immature. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Loves to hear stories of a family "doing without" so the mom can stay home full time.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Has no respect for "<i>yes men". </i>If you are not capable of making a decision without asking your wife's permission, or are under the mentality of "if mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy", then there is a serious problem in your house. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Lays in bed scared to death, each and every night, that someone will break in. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Sleeps in the middle of the bed.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Wishing that there were more people I could tolerate. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>- Wants my kids to stay this age for a very long time.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Lives in fear that I will lose another loved one someday.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Would much rather spend every day in sweats. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Wonders if I'll ever reach my goal weight.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Feels sensitive towards people who take their pregnancies for granted. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Has been through two different counseling experiences, both of which completely transformed my life.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Loves venting to my husband.</div><div><br /></div><div>- My ideal alone time is sitting in a quiet car with a starbucks.</div><div><br /></div><div>- My husband and I have an agreement: he gets the remote if I get a foot rub. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>- Would love it if people were more honest. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Has some really good groups of friends right now. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Is trying to wrap my brain around the concept that God is more concerned with my heart than my to-do list. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Loves staying at home.... all day, every day.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Wants at least 5 more babies. Willing to travel across the world to bring them home.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Always wished that God called me to missions, but scared to death to talk to my neighbors about Him.</div><div><br /></div><div>- If I was forced to redecorate my entire house tomorrow, I'd paint everything bright-cultural colors and fill every room with modern furniture. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Thinks that every boy NEEDS to feel respected by his father. </div><div><br /></div><div>- Doesn't enjoy sweeping things under the rug and would much rather just have an all-out war until things are settled.</div><div><br /></div><div>- Cries every time I try to sing "Does Jesus Care", "It Is Well", and "Be Still My Soul". </div><div><br /></div><div>- Times doesn't heal wounds. Only God heals wounds....if you let Him.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-58380254390113830292011-06-01T11:29:00.000-07:002011-06-01T11:39:00.751-07:00Men are just happier people.(<i>received this from my ______ this morning. she may want to remain anonymous. hehe...)</i><div><br /></div><div>Men are just happier people.</div><div><br /></div><div>What do you expect from such simple creatures?</div><div><br /></div><div>Your last name stays put.</div><div><br /></div><div>The garage is all yours.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wedding plans take care of themselves.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chocolate is just another snack.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can be President.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can never be pregnant.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can wear NO shirt to a water park.</div><div><br /></div><div>Car mechanics tell you the truth.</div><div><br /></div><div>The world is your urinal.</div><div><br /></div><div>You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky.</div><div><br /></div><div>You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.</div><div><br /></div><div>Same work, more pay.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wrinkles add character.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wedding dress $5000. Tux rental, $100.</div><div><br /></div><div>People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them.</div><div><br /></div><div>New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.</div><div><br /></div><div>One mood all the time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.</div><div><br /></div><div>You know stuff about tanks.</div><div><br /></div><div>A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can open all your own jars.</div><div><br /></div><div>You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.</div><div><br /></div><div>If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack.</div><div><br /></div><div>Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.</div><div><br /></div><div>You almost never have strap problems in public.</div><div><br /></div><div>You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Everything on your face stays its original color.</div><div><br /></div><div>The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.</div><div><br /></div><div>You only have to shave your face and neck.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can play with toys all your life.</div><div><br /></div><div>One wallet and one pair of shoes -- one color for all seasons.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can 'do' your nails with a pocket knife.</div><div><br /></div><div>You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24th in 25 minutes.</div><div><br /></div><div>No wonder men are happier.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>I thought I was due for a light-hearted, non-controversial post. :)</i></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-87259519987377244512011-05-23T07:28:00.000-07:002011-05-23T13:04:39.359-07:00Grace, anyone?I'm not a grace-giver. Don't think I ever have been. I am highly self motivated (although you'd never guess by the state of my home right now) and very opinionated. One of my favorite things I've been learning by this counseling process is grace. My hubby summed it up perfectly the other day. "You've gotten to the point where every time you meet someone who doesn't do things exactly the way you think they need to be done, you say to yourself 'that's okay that you don't agree with me. we really don't have to be friends anyway!'" Ugh. The truth hurts! :) My daily goal in life was to be a better classical pianist and a better classical equestrian. I'd go from lesson to lesson....from competition to competition.....always hearing the same thing. If I cut corners (literally) too often in my riding lessons, my instructor would make me ride the corners deeply enough that my knees would scrape the walls of the indoor arena. After enough bruises you learn very quickly to NOT cut corners! :) My piano teacher (not my mother) would tell me that classical music was harder than brain surgery because at least surgeons had a moment to pause and think about what they were about to do. Musicians weren't allowed to change the timing of the music! And to top it off, I had a father who rose at 4:30am, hiked 5 miles, memorized half the Bible, and was out the door for work by 7. :) For years I made myself live by a set of rules. I just wanted to be better, and succeed. My favorite books of the Bible have always been Galatians, Ephesians, Colossians, and Proverbs. I LOVED the list of rules! Just tell me what to do, or who to be, or how to live....I can just follow the rules! Because of this, I also think every one else should have to live by my set of rules as well. <i>What? You don't make your own bread? You let your children eat store-bought-processed-white-flour-crap? Hm. Guess I'll just cross you off my list. What was that? You have given your child an antibiotic? Um...I had no idea you were such an idiot. Well, there goes our friendship! </i>This is somewhat deeply rooted in my view of God. He's a rule-maker. He's a task master. He'll ruin your life if you screw this one up! I can remember begging and pleading on my knees every Saturday night. I had kissed my boyfriend one too many times. I let him get a little too involved. AND I was scheduled to play the piano Sunday morning! AHHH! I was terrified! I had "screwed up", once again, and God was going to make me "pay" by letting my book fall to the floor or my fingers would slip off the keys and I'd make a total embarrassment of myself. After hearing the words "Meg, your daddy was killed this morning. The plane went down." do you know what my very first thought was? It was my fault. I had no idea he was getting on a plane. If I had known, I could have prayed, and then he would've been fine! My life was a list of do's and don'ts. DO IT ALL - have the perfect life. SCREW IT UP - say goodbye to blessings! During our last counseling session he asked me when was the last time I read any of the gospels....Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Ummmm, are you crazy?!? Why would anyone want to read a story? I never thumbed those pages. They didn't consist of rules. But because I'm a good girl who likes to follow the book, I agreed to start with John. God showed me that in John 1:14 it says "And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, <i>full of grace and truth</i>." I took a double take. And a third. Grace and truth. I was reminded earlier that day that God embraced the prostitute but hated the religious people. I don't know about you, but the "religious" people I grew up around said that your skirt had to touch your ankles, and you had to wear pantyhose, and you had to sing out of a hymnal, and you had to attend every service, and you had to get 10 people saved so those 10 people could get 10 more people saved, and those 10 people.... I'd never considered <i>grace and truth</i>. It had only ever been a list of rules. My relationship with my Savior was "religious". Now I could see how that clearly defined <b>all</b> of my relationships. Religious people suck. They use flannel graph lessons of demons and fire and lions to show you what will happen if you don't obey. Religious evangelists suck. You know the ones. The nights that you sit in your pew trembling because you know you trusted Jesus as your Savior when you were 5, but the man behind the pulpit will make you question the validity of that decision because you took a sip of alcohol when you were 17, or because you weren't doing enough to "save your 10 people" yet. Where was God? I, for one, didn't grow up with the knowledge of a God full of grace and truth. I do need to make clear, though, that I really don't see it as anyones fault. My parents certainly weren't the ones preaching hell, fire and brimstone at home. My parents were FULL of grace. I don't think it was my church, either. Although I can still see very clearly that group of church members who definitely aided in my distortion. They were grumpy. And never paid attention to the kids. And wore panty-hose. :) I'm not totally a "every thing is grace..." person, and we're not into the whole "Grace Based Parenting" thing. I think consequences must be had when you or your child is in sin. But my oh my how my eyes have been opened just a little bit more as to <i>who</i> He is and <i>what</i> He is about. Grace, anyone?Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-18434841627755498782011-05-02T17:46:00.000-07:002011-05-02T18:06:02.455-07:00Raising Real MenI am praying now that my boys never meet girls like me. I was catty, manipulative, and easy. I threw my jeans in the dryer 20 minutes before leaving for youth group so they'd be as tight as I could get them. Literally. Seth and I joke around constantly about how thankful we are that we didn't grow up together. I would've thought he was a pleated-pants-comb-over dork. His parents would've put me on the "don't ever get near that girl" list. :) What I once considered "sheltering" I now greatly desire for my sons. Boys will be boys, and God designed them to be visual, but I want to make sure I'm raising men that will one day be good husbands....not good boyfriends. I purchased this <a href="http://www.raisingrealmen.com/tag/hal-and-melanie-young/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333FF;">BOOK</span></a> a while ago but didn't think the authors looked "up to date", so it sat on the shelf. :) I picked it up a few weeks back after my oldest son proclaimed that only girls with very long blonde hair could be pretty. Ugh. What have I created, and how could I have done so much damage in only 5 years!?! The book was totally from the Lord and has given me a new perspective. I now know that my boys have a love for fighting, and guns, and adventure because God created them with the attributes needed to defend and fight for their families some day! It's the over abundance of super-heroes and violent video games that turn those wonderful God-given desires into violent acts that seem so disruptive and immature. I'm not quite finished the book. My dear husband stole it to read on his long flight to Hawaii. But it has already produced a change in the way I parent. I always thought I wanted to be the parent of the "cool kids". Now I'm not so sure. I think I'd rather be the parent of the "will know how to lead and provide for his family" kid.Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-6232818136649177552011-04-29T11:02:00.001-07:002011-04-29T12:11:42.097-07:00Part Three - the finaleTO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:<div>God created Seth and I for each other. He orchestrated my up-bringing, my lifestyle, my likes and dislikes, my personality, my strengths, my weaknesses, my goals and my dreams to prepare me for this moment in time. I will not apologize for the way I was raised, or the fact that I lost my dad, or where I hope to be in 10 years. I was not created to be you. I was not meant to have the husband that you have. I was not meant to have the amount of patience, or knowledge, or opinions that you possess. I am a rather out-spoken person, but I do not use my blog to vent. I stated in Part One that it took me two months to decide whether or not I wanted to share the reality of what was going on in our home. Seth has approved of every word that I have written. I haven't said a bad word about him, or what church we go to, or our childhood memories, or where he works. But I have been honest. Circumstances are not what brought us to our breaking point. It wouldn't've mattered where we lived, or how quickly we started a family, or how my husband made a living. If you took offense to what I have written, I am sorry. If the way I choose to blog doesn't seem appropriate to you, feel free to stop reading. :) The reality is, we are two sinful people. I got married with a lot of baggage. But guess what? <i>He did too. </i>I will <b>never</b> share what happened. Therefore, I don't necessarily think it should be your job to assume you know who was at fault and what would make it all better. </div><div>TO THE REST OF YOU (<i>wink wink</i>):</div><div>My oh my how nice it has been to know that YOU have also walked this path of darkness! Christians can make mistakes, huh!? :) WHO KNEW??? I am so tired of legalism, and status. Never knew there were so many people out there who felt it was their Christian duty to hide what they were struggling with. Some people are really private. I get that. I don't think it's wrong. I don't think everybody has to know your "business". But it sure is neat to shed a little bit of light on reality, and to stop pretending that you're perfect. :) Thank you for assuring me that we are not alone, and for also giving really good advice on how to keep growing!</div><div>IN CONCLUSION:</div><div>Whew. What a whirlwind of blog posts! To recap in short.... We were considering divorce in January and February. <i>Not last week</i>. At this present moment we are deeply in love and fighting hard to make the "wrongs", "rights". He did not quit his job because I couldn't handle his traveling schedule. He quit his job because a) he knew it wasn't what God had created him to do, b) he felt he couldn't be the influential father that he desired to be, while living life on the road every other week of the year c) the unique set of circumstances that we found ourselves in made it impossible for us to work on the weak areas of our marriage without him actually being at home. I do not think that a man traveling for business is wrong. There are plenty of men "bringing home the bacon" and still thriving with a wife and kids. Let's not forget the amount of men serving our country, and therefore being absent from their families. But what is right for one family is not always right for another. </div><div>Sooooo very glad all of this is OVER! :) I have a million other things I want to blog about. Our preschool homeschooling year is coming to a close, we've completely changed the direction we were heading in for kindergarten, I've started reading an amazing book about raising sons, and I have a whole new respect for all those moms of the piano students I used to have. Silas is in piano lessons and violin lessons now, and the fate of his next lesson is completely dependent on ME! Ugh. I now know why some of those kids failed, and some flourished. FYI for those of you sweating right now....the kids who "failed" don't have moms who read this blog, so you and your reputation are very safe. :) </div><div>I am Megan. I was homeschooled and my father was killed tragically when I was 19 years old. I gave birth to 3 babies within the span of 2 1/2 years. My husband and I have been through a really rough time and have come out of it better people. I type my opinions freely and my struggles unashamedly. If you don't like it, find another blog to follow! :)</div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-4649204644861566352011-04-23T06:21:00.000-07:002011-04-23T19:39:08.119-07:00Part TwoWell I wasn't proven wrong! I thought I'd better jump on here real quick and share some more before I continued to be bombarded with emails! #1: we are still married! #2: we have NO plans on divorcing. #3: thanks for caring enough to check in on me and write your own words of wisdom. :) I am not ready to share the personal details of what happened. Another thing I haven't decided on yet is how much I want to share about what we've learned in counseling. It sounds like such a wonderful, sincere effort to make, but I need to be cautious that no one else is hurt by what I share here. One thing I have learned is that you forgive, and forgive, and forgive, and forgive, and forgive. And forgive again. Another very interesting fact. Did you know that you can both be raised in loving, Christ-centered homes and yet grow into adulthood, get married, and still serve a very different God than your spouse? NEWS FLASH! That one just about blew me out of the water. One of us has "accepted the God of our earthly father", and yet one has not. Can you guess who is who??? Hehe... :) We both serve the same Creator, but our idea of that Creator is sooooo completely different. Who knew!? Not us! You know what else I realized? I am so.utterly.sick. of husband bashers. And competitive momma's! We started out on such a good foot. No tv, we prayed together every night, we even (please don't gag) made it a point to brush our teeth together e<i>very single night</i>. And then you buy a house, and worry about what the other young wife is going to think about your decorating ability. And then you get cable tv, and stay up late watching shows that convince you every man on earth is a rich, sexy jerk and every woman needs to be able to fill a D cup. <b>You become dissatisfied</b>. The babies start coming and now you're wondering if yours are wearing the right thing, if you're nursing the right way, if you're reading enough books, if they're memorizing enough scripture, if they wipe their own bum after they poop. Then you get a promotion, and a nicer car, and start shopping for bigger houses. We both say we were the happiest when we had no money and no internet and no car bill and no freakin' cable tv. Do you know why? There was less temptation, and less stress, and less distraction. I seriously don't think the phrase "the honeymoon is over" has anything to do with the amount of years you've been married. I think it has everything to do with the other things you let into your marriage. I loved my house and my furniture until I started reading blogs. He loved his old job until he found out that there's more money to be made elsewhere. I "needed" to redecorate so I was a worthy blog to read, and he "needed" to work more to pay for the motorcycle and bigger house. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">which, by the way, never ended up happening because we started the stupid dave ramsey program. :) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What would happen if you were handed an older car and moved into a smaller home without magazines, tv, or internet. And you couldn't go to target. :) My life would change. Drastically. And what about freakin' facebook!? Do you know how many times a day I check to see what you're wearing, how much weight your husband has gained, if you sat your kid in front of the tv at all, and what color you just painted your bedroom? I'm just sick of it all. I want my kids to be smart and advanced and mature. Do you know what that has resulted in? I can't even look at them without seeing a booger, or fingernails that need to be trimmed, or an outfit that doesn't match. We live our lives trying to impress people we don't even like! And look where it has gotten us. I took a week off of facebook, just to see if it would effect me. No blogs, no facebook, and no weather.com (my guilty pleasure of being freaked out that the world is coming to an end by 5pm because of all the "record storm outbreaks!" notifications flashing at the top of the screen) for a week. I was calmer, enjoyed every moment more, and learned how desperately I need to LIVE my life instead of wasting time watching you live yours. Our husbands need wives who aren't so keenly aware that the guy down the road is pulling in three figures and just completed P90x. We need husbands who put God and family first, not their job....or their paycheck....or their hobby....or their very real desire for skin and boobs and long legs. :) My husband once traveled with a man in the same business. They were discussing how much time they had spent away from their families. My hubby hadn't been home in three weeks, but the other man "won" because he had been gone for six. Seriously? You're okay with that? You men out there that are so desperate to climb the ladder and provide for your families....what are you providing other than a paycheck? Money is not everything. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. Do you know how many families out there are losing the hearts of their children because they're too busy with "the ministry"? And do you know how many very wealthy, successful men have pulled my hubby aside and quietly said that it wasn't worth it? They now have kids who are grown and too involved in their own lives to care to keep a relationship with their father, and a wife who got too used to her independence and money to need her man for anything. You.would.be.shocked. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We are going to attempt a retracing of our steps. When did we get lazy? And let distractions in? And stop caring? Our priorities are so out of line. All because we care about what you think. :) Because it's cooler to say that you were at the gym for an hour today, instead of saying you read your Bible for an hour today. A marriage has suffered. Badly. By God's grace we have started the healing process. I LOVED the text I got last night from a friend that reminded me that I CAN'T make this marriage work, but He can. For us, it's now a matter of eliminating the distractions, one by one, so we can see Him clearly. The road ahead seems so long. But we made a promise. My life is not my own.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">To be continued, yet again....yes, there's more...</span></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6619111691322381201.post-64703470262944991182011-04-22T10:32:00.000-07:002011-04-22T11:07:23.294-07:00My life is not my own...This has been my ever present motto for the past three weeks. It took me two months to figure out if I wanted to open myself up and share with the blog world what's been going on. Still not sure that I want to. But, the last time I was real with all of you, I had an overwhelming response of emails stating you had walked that same road. Why is it that you don't know what's <i>really </i>going on in lives until those lives have ended? What's the harm in being honest? Would it be encouraging if you knew I was going through the same thing that you're afraid to admit is happening in your own life? I would take ANYONE like that, right now. The past year has been rough. I told my hubby last night that I really truly believed that our hardest years would be while we were adding more babies into our family. Ha! How can you go from such a like-minded, passionate love, to phone conversations that end with the certainty that things will never be the same. Funny thing is, we've had the same problems since the second week of marriage. You'd think we'd learn! Now after 6 1/2 years of thinking you can work it out "one more time...", you crash. Fall. Afraid at any moment the emotions will make you literally sick. I remember saying "I have to get off the phone. I think I'm going to throw up." Why do we always think we can handle things on our own strength? Lest you be deceived, Seth and I brought a pretty equal amount of baggage into this marriage. One is definitely not more at fault than the other. It takes two. I guess I was just surprised at how much WORK all of this is. The best words of advice I was given before our wedding day was "Everyone takes months to prepare for the wedding, but no one prepares for the marriage." Indeed! Quitting is so tempting. I am not strong enough to fight. I used to be, but I think I lost it the day my dad was killed. I'm not competitive, or strong, or in the mood to fight for what I know is right. And that's wrong. I know it. And then the voices in your head start emerging. "You know what the Bible says, but that's not what you're capable of, humanly speaking." I couldn't wait for him to leave for another business trip. He dreaded coming home. One night we quietly agreed that he should just stay there. But the images of three little children growing up without a father were too overwhelming....for both of us. So....we have sought counsel. He has quit his job. And we are probably relocating. You wouldn't say that's too drastic, would you? :) We have three children who need a godly example of what marriage should be, and we have to keep the covenant that we made before God on our wedding day. My life is not my own. <div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">To be continued....</div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15975347051307319089noreply@blogger.com0